Chapter 19

Another forty-five percent of the police force had orders to guard Corporation Plaza and City Hall.

That left less than five percent to maintain order in all other areas of Night City. No wonder the NCPD was stretched so thin.

Because of that, petty theft wasn't a big deal in Night City. If Jackie had tried to steal some junker car from a poor nobody, Stints might have turned a blind eye, given they both hailed from Heywood. But Jackie had gone after a wealthy man's ride, so there was no sweeping it under the rug.

Of course, simply letting them walk free was out of the question. Usually, Stints would have beaten them up for good measure, taught them a lesson, and then dumped them somewhere near a trash bin.

He had been about to do exactly that when someone unexpectedly showed up.

...

.

"These two are the thieves? Just a couple of street rats?"

A suited man, speaking with a thick accent worthy of a Japanese colonel, walked over.

Stints pressed a hand to his forehead. "Dammit, what's he doing here?"

It was Fujoka Kaoru, a wealthy Japanese man whose fortune outstripped that of everyone in Heywood combined. He owned one of the four Rayfield "Aerondight" Guinevere supercars in Night City—the same man Leo had seen on that video, raving about "culling the poor."

Stints wanted Fujoka nowhere near this situation. Rich folks like him never saw the poor as real humans. If Jackie and the girl ended up in his clutches, they might not make it out alive.

"We've already apprehended them, Mr. Fujoka," Stints said hastily. "We'll take them in right—"

Fujoka Kaoru cut him off with words Stints hadn't expected. "You're wasting your time. I won't be appearing in court, nor will I cooperate with any investigation."

Stints froze. He couldn't believe how easily this rich man was letting things go. Tentatively, he asked, "You…you mean let them go, sir?"

"I mean take both of them to the bay, keep them cuffed, and break their legs so they don't float back up," Fujoka declared. Then he strode off with two bodyguards who looked like sumo wrestlers.

Stints glared at Fujoka's retreating figure, resisting the urge to spit. He knew it—filthy rich types were all the same.

"You heard him," he muttered to his fellow cops, giving them a look. Of course, once Fujoka left, how would he know what really happened? If it were up to Stints, he'd never do something so barbaric. But he also had no interest in groveling or acting like this snob's lackey.

The officers holding Jackie and the girl both drew their batons. They were about to start beating them when, from not far away, a small cylindrical object sailed through the air and landed near their feet.

A blinding white flash erupted, overwhelming everyone's vision. All they saw was a glaring field of white. Then a few more cylinders rolled toward them, each shaped differently—smoke grenades this time.

Hiss!

Greenish fumes spread through the garage.

"Damn it, are there more of them?"

"Don't shoot! I'm telling you, do not fire!"

Stints yelled frantically. Bullets in this chaos could easily hit fellow officers rather than the suspects.

In the confusion, Jackie felt someone haul him to his feet. His eyes still stung and saw nothing but afterimages, but he had no doubt it was Leo.

"Don't worry about me," Jackie rasped. "I got this. Go grab her."

"You sure?" Leo asked.

Jackie was convinced the job from Wakako was legit. The NCPD's sudden arrival had only one explanation—the girl must have triggered some kind of alert. That was why the cops showed up so fast.

"Positive," Jackie said firmly.

Leo left Jackie and hurried over to where she lay, throwing her arm over his shoulder to lift her.

The girl was startled and reflexively tried to jerk free.

"Stop struggling. I'm getting you out of here," Leo said.

The flashbang effect and the billowing smoke wouldn't last forever. They needed to leave before it dissipated.

Leo supported her as he led the way out; Jackie followed close behind, the three retracing their steps. They got into the elevator, rode it back up to the alley, and stepped outside.

Jackie's vision had recovered somewhat. He took the lead, forcing himself to focus, but Leo held him back.

"Not that way," Leo said. "This way."

He pointed behind them, toward the far end of the alley, where a large dumpster stood. A quick climb on top of it would let them reach a car ramp above.

Jackie scrambled up first, then helped her, and finally, Leo clambered up. Right then, the NCPD officers burst into the alley below.

Leo hurled another flashbang, ignoring the cop's cries as he, Jackie, and the girl scrambled over the ramp and hailed a passing cab. The three of them disappeared into the neon-lit night.

…

They climbed out of the taxi near the El Coyote Bar. Jackie and the girl still blinked away spots in their vision, but at least they could walk without trouble.

She gave them a grateful look. "Thanks. If it weren't for you, I'd never have gotten away."

She held out her hand. "Name's V."

Leo shook it, then pointed to himself and Jackie. "Leo, Jackie."

V's eyes went wide with surprise. "Jackie? Don't tell me your last name's Welles."

"Right on," Jackie confirmed.

"So you're Mrs. Welles's kid? The El Coyote belongs to your mom?"

Jackie rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. Wait… I think I remember you. Have you been to the El Coyote before?"

"That's where I picked up the car theft gig—through Kirk."

"Kirk?" Jackie repeated. He scowled at the name. "How'd you end up doing business with that turd?"

V's expression soured. She obviously knew Kirk was bad news. Sure, the city had plenty of fixers, and Kirk was technically one of them, but he was undoubtedly one of the worst: high risk, low pay, and bogus intel more often than not.

Little wonder no merc in their right mind wanted his gigs. His only real talent was spinning a good yarn—he could sell any fantasy. Sometimes V suspected he might have come out of one of the big corporations, since nobody pitched pipe dreams better than corporate suits.

"Pepe owed him a huge debt he couldn't pay back. I stepped in," V explained.

Jackie let out a short laugh. "So you let Kirk sweet-talk you into this? Huh. I've heard folks say some gang's backing him, but I'm calling bullshit. I know actual gang members, and nobody's heard of him."

He pounded a fist into his palm. "Let's go find Kirk and sort him out. No way a scumbag like that should think he can screw over Heywood folks and get away with it."