Read Video Star (Voice of the Whirlwind) for Free Online Page B

minutes to complete our transaction. Go ahead and test any of the packets at random.”
    “Yeah,” the kid said. “I’ll do that.” He crouched by the table, pulled vials from his pockets, and made a series of tests while Jesus counted off at fifteen-second intervals. He managed to do four tests in three minutes, then stood up. Ric could see he was salivating for the stuff.
    “It’s good,” he said.
    “Let’s see your key.” The kid took a credit spike from his pocket and handed it to Jesus, who put it in the computer in front of him. Jesus transferred two hundred fifteen thousand in Starbright policorporate scrip from the spike to his own spike that was jacked into slot two.
    “Take your stuff,” Jesus said, settling back in his seat. “Captain Islam will take you back to your car. Nice doing business.”
    The kid gave a sniff, took his spike back, and began to stuff white packets into his duffel. He left the cabin without saying a word. Adrenaline was wailing along Ric’s nerves. He stood and took his own spike from his left-hand jacket pocket. His other hand went to the squeeze bottle of nasal mist in his right. Stray novae were exploding at the peripherals of his vision.
    “Look at this, Virgin,” Ric said. “Look at all the money sitting in this machine.” He laughed. Laughter wasn’t hard, but stopping the laughter was.
    “Twenty percent is yours, Marat,” Jesus said. “Give me your spike.”
    As Super Virgin stepped up to look at the monitor, Ric brought the squeeze bottle out of his pocket and fired acrolein into her face. His spin toward Jesus was so fast that Virgin’s scream had barely begun before he fired another burst of the chemical at Jesus, slamming one hand down on the shotgun to keep him from bringing it up. He’d planned on just holding it there till the boy’s grip loosened, but nerves took over and he wrenched it effortlessly from Jesus’ hands and barely stopped himself from smashing Jesus in the head with it.
    Virgin was on her hands and knees, mucus hanging from her nose and lips. She was trying to draw the pistol. Ric kicked it away. It fell on muffled plastic.
    Ric turned and pulled the spikes from the machine. Jesus had fallen out of his chair, was clawing at his face. “Dead man,” Jesus said, gasping the words.
    “Don’t threaten me, asshole,” Ric said. “It could have been mustard gas.”
    And then Marlene, on the ridge far above, watched the sweep hand touch five minutes, thirty seconds, and she pressed her radio button. All the buried charges went off, blasting bits of the other cabins into the sky and doubtless convincing the soldiers in the other buildings that they were under fire by rocket or mortar, that the kid from California had brought an army with him. Simultaneous with the explosive, other buried packages began to gush concealing white smoke into the air. The wind was strong but there was a lot of smoke.
    Ric opened the back door and took off, the shotgun hanging in his hand. Random fire burst out but none of it came near. The smoke provided cover from both optical scanners and infrared, and it concealed him all the way across the yard behind the cabin and down into the arroyo behind it. Sixty yards down the arroyo was a culvert that ran under the expressway. Ric dashed through it, wetting himself to the knees in cold spring snowmelt.
    He was now on the other side of the expressway. He didn’t think anyone would be looking for him here. He threw the shotgun away and kept running. There was a cross-country motorbike waiting a little farther up the stream.

25
    “There,” Ric said, pressing the Return button. “Half of it’s yours.”
    Marlene was still wearing her war paint. She sipped cognac from a crystal glass and took her spike out of the computer. She laughed. “A hundred K of Starbright,” she said, “and paper packets of happiness. What else do I need?”
    “A fast armored car, maybe,” Ric said. He pocketed his spike. “I’m taking