Chapter 3 | They'll Be Hunting Us
The BMIs met in up town on a busy corner near the high rise buildings in the business district. It was an area of town primarily filled with white collar business types and affluents. It was loud and noisy as people spoke on their CCDs. As the masses walked the streets and talked to each other, they pushed each other out of the way to get to where they were going.
Two men in suits bumped shoulders. One took his brushed aluminum briefcase and hit the other in the back of the head, knocking him off balance. He stumbled a little and looked at the guy that hit him for a moment. It was common place for people to lash out and hit each other when they thought the other person had pushed or bumped them too hard. It was a bit like travelling on a New York subway at rush hour. Everyone focused on where they were headed; they were rude and paid no attention to other pedestrian’s personal space.
It was 9:00 a.m., rush hour, time to get to work. The BMIs slowly appeared from different locations: one from the skytrain exit, one from skycab that had landed, one from an older street taxi, and the other two from around the corner of distant buildings. They all walked to the meet point in front of the Union Bank and continued to walk down the street as they formed their group.
The BMI leader, Grayson, said, “Not much time. I'll keep this brief.” He motioned for the group to walk slowly with him as he talked. “Okay, I’m glad everyone made it. First off, Terrack killed a spaceport screener. They know we're in the country and they'll be hunting us.”
BMI Peyton asked Grayson, “Who will?”
Grayson answered, “The agency, which means iCers.”
Peyton then asked, “We still need money to operate?”
Grayson answered, “No, not for operations. We’re covered. But I have a plan for diversion later that requires gold cards.”
Peyton then asked, “Bank job?”
Grayson replied, “No, there's an underground casino, 3rd and Broadway, under the Bradbury building. It should be the perfect place to make a donation to our cause. It’s an illegal gambling joint. They can’t report crimes, which means no cops.”
Grayson and the others were facing each other in a huddle formation when a lady dressed in a woman’s business suit walked through them, splitting their huddle in half. She was in a hurry and talked on her gold plated Montbalnc CCD when she pushed BMI Tosha out of the way. The lady yelled, “Move, underling!” at Tosha.
Tosha had pulled her right arm back and was about to punch the lady in the back of her head with a closed fist when Terrack grabbed her arm to stop her.
Terrack said, “Wait!”
Terrack looked and focused his attention on the lady and her CCD. The lady's CCD sparked and exploded; shards of plastic and glass hit her in the face. She grabbed her face and stood in the crowd dazed and confused as blood dripped down her face. The crowd just ignored her and continued on their way in both directions, too busy to have concern for a stranger.
Tosha tapped Terrack on the shoulder and said, “Thanks. That was better than a beat down she was about to get.”
Terrack, Tosha, Grayson, Peyton, and the fifth BMI, Jagger, all laughed at the bewildered lady.
Down the street, the BMIs saw two uniform beat cops headed in the direction of the injured lady.
Grayson motioned for everyone to gather a little closer and told them, “Okay people. Now that you had your fun everyone needs to separate. I'll send you the meeting time for the casino. Go now! I'll be in contact.”
The BMIs all walked in different directions and disappeared into the crowd.