The Jet City Murders
I knew she was trouble the moment she walked into my office. She was the kind of woman who never went to Lower Seattle without a pair of sentinels on a leash, yet here she was on my doormat, rain-soaked, alone and vulnerable. So why was I afraid?
He was some WTO hotshot, that's how she started. He ruled the New Seattle society and had the SSC in his back pocket. The only way she could find a detective brave enough to go after him was by heading down the inclinator and to my office. Was it brave enough? Or stupid enough? Didn't matter to me, I would have done anything for a curve like her. That, and the bill collectors had drained the last of my credits.
She was afraid he was going to rub her out, try and lay his hands on her family fortune. He had a mistress somewhere on the platform above, and she was in on the plot. Then there was his bodyguard, "Barry the Juice". After the last time I crossed him I knew even a holo-mail from him would try to strangle me. Getting involved in all this was a bad idea, but hell, bad ideas are my job.