“Drop.” Female voice, loud, coming from the street. Without hesitation Adelaar went down, curling round as she dropped, landing on hip and elbow, shenli darter out and ready.

She didn’t need it. Two men lay crumpled on the walkway some five or six meters off. She swung her legs under her and was on her feet a breath later. A flit curved over to her, its offside door open.

“Jump.” Same voice.

She grabbed the case’s tether and jumped. As soon as she was inside, before she’d sorted herself out, the driver slapped in the lever and the flit took off as if she’d goosed it. Adelaar straightened up, clipped the darter back under her arm and arranged the case by her feet. “Thanks.”

“Nada.”

“Ahhmm, kill them?”

“Nope. Stunned ’em. Didn’t know maybe they were friends of yours playing a prank.”

“Not.”

“Takes all types.” The driver swung the flit round a corner and slowed to a more decorous pace. “That should be enough to keep us clear of lice. You just in? Thought so. You want to believe the shit they tell you at the Gate, mess with a local and you lose. You got credit, they suck blood, no credit, Bolodo gets you. Reason I yelled, one of your unfriends had what looked like an Ifklii yagamouche; if he was a pro, he could’ve fried your brain ’fore he went down. I loathe those things.”

Adelaar shivered. “I owe you. Let me…” Moving her hand slowly so she wouldn’t startle her rescuer, she eased a business card from her belt. “Here. Give me a call sometime.”

“Shove it in the abdit there in front of you, no need, though.”

“I know. Nonetheless…” She dropped the card into the hollow, “That’s a quiet stunner you’ve got, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Built it myself. Any place you want to go?”

“City Center, the Directory. You’re not a local.”