ZOMG!/1

Whack-a-Mole
"Boss?" Sven spoke on the phone in a voice between reassuring and anxious.

"Sv...Why HAVEN'T you told me about the dead guy!?" Elzm's voiced yelled at the other end of the line.

Damm, she found out through a third party. He was going to tell her... one of these days, when the time was right. His grandmother always told him that it was polite to give bad news together with good news. And he always tried to be polite with his bosses, "Well, I'm sorry boss, it must've slipped my mind. But not to worry, the man was closed like a oyster covered in concrete, nothing would get any useful information out of him. There's good news, though," he singsonged the last sentence.

Her curiosity momentarily spiked above her anger, Elzm asked, "What news?"

Smiling inside, Sven said, "Remember what we talked a while ago? Iqbal met with a chick very recently, I checked with the local government's databases, I'm sending the results...now...recognize her? The name's different but..."

"Polquin's cousin? Damm, I knew that woman would bring trouble," Elzm said, her voice regaining a tone of anger, that Sven thankfully knew was not directed at his person.

"Well, don't look at me. I only got in charge of security after the Polquin incident," in fact, his antecessor was fired for his sloppy handling of the matter, "Anyways, Iqbal called you about thirty minutes after finding her. He didn't mention her, did he?"

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"As I thought. Requesting permission to take some extreme security measures," he said, holding his crossed legs, his "Buddha position", as his subordinates called it, since he always assumed it when he need to sound calm.

"You have permission to do anything it takes. If Iqbal's got her and didn't tell me, then he's probably taking her to whoever we were trying to stop in the first place. Shit! And be fast about it. If we can get access to her findings on her brother's work, we might even be able to finish up Polquin's research, and I have various bidders for that research."

"Sure ma'am," Sven turned the phone off and stood from the chair, forgetting his other work. He picked up the desk phone and dialed a number.

Iqbal noticed the dark-blue car following them. It was just an ordinary car driving at ordinary speed, and he couldn't see the drivers very well. But he knew Razar's security personnel's modus operandi. And all kinds of tiny details that no one unfamiliar would see were there. He worked alongside them many times. It was this that encouraged him to try and beat Razar. This and the possibly multitrillionaire fortune he would amass in a single operation.

But now the game was on and it wasn't a matter of good guys versus the bad guys, because the good guys were nowhere to be seen. Like in all great conflicts in the history of humanity it was a matter of who was the best and brightest selfish bastard, the one that'd win their little battle and get magnificent wealth and then go on to proclaim to the world retroactively they deserved winning for some reason or another. Probably moral reasons.

He looked again at the pursuers. Both of them had sunglasses. One on the lapel of his floral tourist shirt and the other on his face. He knew those sunglasses had tiny little communication devices in the frames that connected to a socket in their right ears through a wire. This socket was directly linked to the cybernetic mix of alarm clock, phone and hearing amplifier, which was in turn, in direct interface with their brain.

Those were the sniffers that the security of Razar sent against those it didn't want to eliminate immediately or grossly. They probably had orders to capture them at worst, or to watch and wait for further instructions at best. Good. All Iqbal needed was to get the girl to the train, and they probably didn't know that. Only ten or twenty more minutes (thirty, if the traffic was bad today), and he would get her to the train.

Sometimes he lost them in the chaos of the other cars, but knew they were still following. He turned the volume dial for his radio up. It was playing "(Gonna Fuck Your Brains) Out!" by the Pistons of Love, a loud, mildly danceable Technofunk tune with badly written worsely performed lyrics. But the poor quality of the loud music was perhaps a bonus to foil cyber-enhanced hearing of the sniffers.

"We're being followed. Don't freak out. Don't look freaked out. They shouldn't even try to take us out where everybody can see it," better telling her now than letting her find it out later and show them he knew what they were doing. He manoeuvred the car, needlessly taking turns. He didn't trust his ability to take them out of his trail, and he didn't need to, but he wasn't about to give them an easy time.

The colourful sea of steel and smoke and dust from the cars around him, and their habit to change lanes, made it hard for him to keep an eye on the pursuers, but he had a fair idea of their location, and it didn't matter anyway. All he had to do was get to the train. He could make it. Elzm was a giantess and he was a mouse...no, he was a rat, smart little quick rat that started kilometres ahead. There was no way for her to catch up before he got his cheese. No way.

Then he noticed it. The pursuers were right on front of him, and the red light was on for more time than it was common. They were fast, before he could see it, they were out of the car and casually put a compressed air syringe on his left arm, as the other one did the same with the girl...

Iqbal was still angry when he sat down across from Sven. He should of figured it out faster than he did, and he was sure Sven knew enough to kill. The car got to him in no time, and when he came to, he was in the back of another one. Oh well, he could probably sell out his back hand exchanges and get off with a lost customer and reputation.

"You honestly thought we wouldn't figure you out?" Sven never did talking over a table, hassle to leap over.

"You know me, few extra bucks is all I want. Figured I'd take a little risk, squeeze a few pennies out. In the end, it'd end the same." Iqbal was trying to keep the situation calm. He'd talked a couple times to Sven and it always left him feeling cold.

"It'd end the same? This little Polquin theft group is making use of that data every hour, use which we need to stop. You think it will end the same?" Sven was leaning over Iqbal, who was trying to hide his obvious anxiety.

"They gave me a line and everything, you want the info?" Iqbal knew he couldn't worm himself out, he'd have to rat himself out.

"And I take it this will cost a price?" Sven had a smug look, it made Iqbal feel isolated.

"Well yes, I'd rather like to be ejected from this situation and forgotten about." Iqbal continued on, feeling a ray of hope when Sven nodded inwardly. Then Sven looked at him and the hope escaped. Sven leaned over, supporting himself on the arms of the chair. He couldn't look at the walls behind Sven; he felt cluttered.

"How about we get who's in charge straight here. You won't be buying your freedom from here, you'll be buying your freedom from pain." Iqbal darted his eyes away from Sven's cold eyes. He felt himself caving in, almost ready to snatch at the offer.

"Might I be able to buy myself out of death?" Iqbal felt his stomach shaking.

"Depends, what's the info?" Sven had turned away now, walking back and leaning on the wall. Iqbal sighed, he might actually have a chance with this.