Joe's Diner, downtown NMK, about 10:45AM, Wednesday the 10th of March, 2055.

Over breakfast we decide that the best course of action is to get the story out to the media. As the only truly stylish way to pull off such a feat these days is to reveal all, as it were, at a rock concert, that's what we're going to do. Of course, we've only got Crash, so it'll have to be one of those 'intimate' gigs. You know, the ones they call 'intimate' because not many people turn up.

At first we think of holding the gig tonight, but then curiosity kicks in. If the gig's tonight, when are we gonna get a look at the bridge? So mindful of the old saying, "Curiosity killed the 'punk", we decide to check out the bridge tonight, and hold the gig off for 24 hours. Should things go wrong tonight, the gig may not even take place. Which, to be honest, would probably be good news for those people who might otherwise have paid to see Crash play.

And if I go out by taking an involuntary swan dive off the top of the bridge, well, at least it should look pretty cool. I just hope I go into the water nice and straight and don't make too much of a splash. They dock marks for that in competitions you know.

Shen says he's worried about his house. We admit that we were to. That's why we took most, if not all, of our belongings when we left this morning. He wants to drive by though, so we let him go. I hope the paperboy's not there when Shen's passing, he's likely to assume the poor kid is some sort of assassin and kill him. Why can't I get that old Rage Against the Machine track out of my mind? How did it go again? "This time the bullet cold rocked ya, da da da da da, Blasted through your head, da da da da, You got a fookin' bullet in your head!" Or something like that.

Anyway, as I've got a digital camera with me, me and Roland are gonna take a drive over the bridge in daylight, to quickly check it out. I doubt there's anything obvious, but you never know your luck.

Crash, Sykes and Yuki decide to stop at Joe's and have another coffee while Shen swings by his place and me and Roland scout out the bridge.

It doesn't take Shen long to get back to his place. As he rides by the front on his bike, he can't see any bodies, live or dead. The broken front window is still broken, but otherwise, all looks quiet. He parks his bike round the back and goes for a better look.

The front window has been broken more than it was and the reason for that is evident when Shen looks into the front room. The TV's gone. He'll have to get a new one if he's not to miss too many episodes of Cheerleaders In Space, hosted by an artificially youthful Marina Sirtis.

The rest of the house has been quickly ransacked, probably by kids. Knowing the kids in the area, it's likely they took the TV home on a skateboard. He finds Crash's amp is also missing. Only the basement, which Sykes locked earlier, has been spared. It's possible to see where they tried to force the door and failed.

Shen calls a local glazier to come and fix the window. While he waits for him, Shen rearranges the furniture in the front room, as he finds sitting in his favourite chair, looking at where the TV used to be, too depressing.

Meanwhile, me and Roland have made it to the bridge. It's exclusively a road bridge, with narrow emergency walkways down either side, protected from the rushing traffic only by flimsy crash barriers. Also there are signs all along the bridge saying "No walking on bridge. 2000eb fine. In emergency use walkways to access emergency phones which are located on each pier".

The piers themselves jut out from either side of the roadway, but their tops are no higher than the road surface. A number of the piers, obviously containing some sort of machinery, have access hatches and ventilation shafts visible at the top. Pier thirteen, though is just like the majority of the other piers and has no distinguishing features visible from the road.

I suggest that we drive back via one of the nearby bridges that runs parallel, so we can get a look from the side. Looking across from the other bridge, we can see that each pier has a metal ladder running down the side. Probably for inspection purposes, or in case debris gets caught around a pier or something.

Whether the tide is hiding anything lower down the piers, we can't tell. We'll just have to chance it when we come back after dark. We'd better find on when tonight's low tide is and time our return for then.

We call Sykes, as we head back to the bar, to ask him to try and arrange some form of boat that we can use later, as a stealthy approach by river seems the most promising. He calls Jake the Smuggler, who he's fenced stuff for before. Jake has a boat, and a 'driver', we can use, and suggests we get to his place about 20:00 as low tide is at 21:00. It'll only take us about 10 or 15 minutes to reach the bridge from Jake's, but it'll give us a bit of time to familiarise ourselves with the boat.

Shen's window has been fixed, at a cost of 150eb, and he's now on his way back to the bar too.

The three of us arrive almost simultaneously, and park out the front of Joe's. As we're about to enter the Diner, my spider-sense starts tingling. Glancing over my shoulder I see a dark-coloured saloon pull up on our side of the road, about 50 metres away. There are two suited gentlemen in it, and it seems rather familiar.

Shen and Roland don't seem to have noticed it. I tell them to watch my back and start walking along the sidewalk towards the car. As I do so, I call over the radio, for the benefit of those inside, to let them know what is happening.

Inside Joe's, Yuki runs to the bar and tells Joe there could be trouble. He produces a baseball bat from under the bar and hits the bar with it three times. The other patrons in the bar, being familiar with the sign, start making their way to the tables furthest from the front windows.

Crash takes a seat at the end of the bar and commences a wait for his first pint of the day. Sykes heads for the rear door. Having warned Joe, Yuki orders a ham and mushroom omelette and another coffee, and sits at the bar where she can see the video screen monitoring the sidewalk out front.

As I walk towards them, the suits start what appears to be a frantic conversation. Within moments the driver makes his decision and the car screeches into motion, its rear tyres smoking. The passenger reaches down into the footwell for something.

The driver yanks the steering wheel to pull away from the kerb. But the rear tyres are still spinning too much and as the front wheels the turn, the rear of the car pendulums round and mounts the sidewalk.

The car is now sliding sideways towards me and the passenger is looking none too happy about it. Shen shoots at the car. Why, I don't know. Appropriately, he hits the headlight and with the angle the car is sliding at, the bullet also penetrates the radiator.

The car is now getting pretty close, so it's time to make my move. With near perfect timing, and a great sense of style, even if I say so myself, I dive calmly out the path of the car. I roll as I land and come up in a comfortable crouch with my pistol drawn and levelled at the driver. Yuki, watching on the monitor inside the bar, complements me, over the radio, on my athletic grace.

Sykes has made his way out the back of the bar, and down a side alley, to find out what is happening. It's at this point that he pokes his head round the corner of the building. What is it with Sykes? He's always poking his round corners and doors, on the look out for trouble. It reminds me of those skinny little African prairie dog things. What are they called? Meerkats, that's the critters. Meerkat. I wonder if that's a handle that'll stick?

Having slid past me, the rear tyres bite into the sidewalk, the car shoots back out into the road, the driver regaining control and making to accelerate down the street. Shen just won't stop until someone's dead or there been a good deal of collateral damage though, and shoots out the near side rear tyre.

This sends the car sideways again, the rear end sliding out into the other lane, and it swerves back in towards the sidewalk, heading directly for Roland's car. SMASH! Roland is not gonna appreciate Shen causing that. Superficially it doesn't look too bad though. The cars have come together with the driver's side front wings in intimate contact. And there was the definite sound of breaking headlights. Chalk another couple of 'heads' up to Shen.

The suit's saloon has stalled and the driver is fumbling around trying to get it started again. Roland appears at his window, shotgun in hand, and taps the barrel on the glass. The driver manages to start the car despite his evident panic, and slams the gears into reverse. As the car starts to move, the passenger door swings open.

Roland fires at the front tyre and it pretty much disintegrates. Shen has made it to the passenger side of the car and tries to grab its occupant. He fails. He was trying to grab the guy by the arm or shoulder, perhaps he should just have gone for the head?

The one remaining rear tyre expires as Roland empties a shotgun cartridge into it. Shen makes another grab for the passenger, and gets him this time, pulling him from the car. To me it looked like the guy probably would have liked to have got out by himself, what with him opening the door and all. But hey. Why let events take their course when some unnecessary violence can speed things up!

Scrabbling for grip, the car backs out into the road and then with a loud grinding of the gears begins to move off. Feeling pretty fracked off with things, I vent my frustration on the one remaining tyre, piercing it with a single 12mm caseless round from my Colt.

A parting shot from Roland removes the driver's side wing mirror, but the driver ain't stopping for nothing or nobody. I suspect it's not only the car that's had it. I bet his underwear is sufficiently soiled to require disposal. Within moments the car is gone, but the passenger is still here.

Shen drags the guy to his feet, and starts barking questions at him. If Shen's an example of the British special forces like he claims, then it's no wonder they lost the empire to a bunch of colonial rabble-rousers with French backing!

Having just been dragged to his feet, the passenger, who's getting quite lippy in an "if you do anything to me I'll set the company lawyers onto you" kind of way, gets put back down again by Roland.

A quick search of the guy's jacket turns up his wallet. The guy's name is George McKensie and wadda you know, he's a Biotechnica employee according to his staff ID card. Apparently he's an Accounts Executive.

Why would Biotechnica be sending an Account Exec out to keep an eye on us? The driver obviously had no advanced driving skills, and I've seen learners with better clutch control. Then there was the solos who attacked at the house this morning. They weren't particularly good at their job either. And there was only two of them!

Why would Biotechnica only send two solos and a couple of accountants? With their resources they could easily have found a couple of AV-4s filled with highly trained special ops troops to ensure they got their package back and take care of any 'witnesses'. Thinking about it, even the way that 'bike rider was taken out last night was messy and careless. Something doesn't smell right.

I reckon this guy we've got here, or more likely his boss, has screwed up whatever it was he was in charge of at the Lodge. And now he's trying to deal with the problem himself, rather than admit it to the Biotechnica board, and lose his company car, or worse. I just know Biotechnica isn't as inept as the guys we've had to deal with lately.

Anyway, there's nothing else that's much use to be found on the guy who's still pinned to the sidewalk. A bunch of credit cards and family photos. Nothing interesting.

Back inside the bar, Crash has finally got his pint, and Yuki can smell her omelette being cooked as she sips at her coffee. I hope she gets a chance to eat it before the cops show up to investigate all the shooting, in the middle of the street, in broad daylight, and we have to split. Mind you, she and Crash won't appear of any footage of the incident itself, but they could be implicated by having arrived at Joe's with us. I wonder if I've got time for a quick coffee before we have to run?

This page © Greg Aldridge, 3 May 2003