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Blince’s face anxiously.
    ‘ These from the stand?’ asked Blince, biting into one. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say you and your flunkies were usin’ unsweetened dough in these. But of course that couldn’t possibly be the case.’
    Tredwell sniggered uncertainly, his eyes evasive.
    Blince stared hard. ‘You’re a waste of hair, Tredwell. You wouldn’t make an impression on a goddamn pillow. Get outta here before I rip out your spine and dip it in your eye.’ Tredwell scampered away. ‘We’ve fallen on our feet this time, Benny. Such a poignant exchange o’ gunfire is a clarion call to those sworn to shorin’ up the chill dream o’ justice.’
    ‘ Right, Chief,’ said Benny, his voice flat as a dog hit at sixty.
    ‘ Eh?’ Blince gave Benny his full and frowning attention. ‘Are we, Benny, or are we not sworn to shorin’ up the chill dream o’ justice ?’
    Benny’s reaction was a heady brew of indifference and neutrality.
    ‘ You on line, Benny? Your eyes are as glazed as this doughnut.’ He shook it in front of Benny as bullets and shrapnel spattered the ground around them. ‘As this doughnut , Benny.’
    Benny was absently thinking that the doughnut which Blince held against the night sky resembled a giant blood cell, when its centre was pierced by the white lightning of ballistic track. The sight was burned into his cortex like the insignia of some forgotten crusade.

 
    6
    IN THE SITUATION VAN
     
    In the situation van, Tredwell Garnishee regarded a carnage strata graph. It had never been easier to be shot in the face with a softnose bullet. Instead of drugs, entire skeletons were being flushed down the john. A lion had escaped from the zoo and been eaten by a kid. An old guy had blinded a traffic cop by spitting out a gallstone. A plane had crash-landed on a porn theatre, killing hundreds of lawyers. This very day Beerlight was host to a snipers’ convention. Tredwell felt he was at the heart of the issue.
    Due to the high rate of Chief-strangulation in the uptown precinct and an official inquiry which put it down to ‘stress and hate’, uptown Chiefs were now appointed on a monthly rotation from the lower ranks. Tredwell had quickly made the leap of imagination from the real world to one in which he was loved and respected. The guys even had a nickname for him - Choke Chain.
    ‘ Let’s kill the fatted calf, Benny,’ said Blince, bellying in. ‘And tell Bazooka Joe here to lay out the scam.’
    ‘ It’s like this, sir,’ Tredwell began eagerly.
    ‘ I seriously doubt it,’ rumbled Blince, dropping heavily into a chair.
    ‘ The manager didn’t show, there’s the first odd thing. Then a denizen drove up in a junker just before lock-up. We beamed this out of security.’
    A video scan of the bank floor appeared on a tatty monitor. Tredwell zoomed in on a young disaster in an ANTI-CYCLONE T-shirt and froze the image.
    ‘ Findley Taz,’ Blince nodded. ‘The Entropy Kid.’
    ‘ What’s he holding?’ asked Benny.
    ‘ Cod -eye forms,’ said Tredwell.
    ‘ And he’ll be packin’ a Kafka gun - an ammo-guzzler. The Kid’s an escaped bullethead, Benny. Lives a life o’ danger to everyone else. Got a psychosis you could hang your hat on.’
    ‘ Could be in town for the convention, Chief.’
    ‘ You’re puttin’ the cart before the horse has bolted, Benny. I saw the Kid take an Uzi machine pistol to a palm-court orchestra. His intelligence will surprise and delight you. Get Specter in here - he’s a whipsmart fella.’
    Benny went out and Blince bit thoughtfully into a pie. ‘This changes everything. Except me.’
     
    Harpoon Specter peed on a fire and felt relieved that he portrayed his trade in a town where justice was a verbal luxury. His lucky stars were tarnished with the thanks of years. A night of tank-chasing had ended in his misrepresenting a wealthy gran who had witnessed the brotherhood breaking a kid’s neck - denial had reached such a pitch it was illegal