To Snatch a Thief - By Hazel Cotton Page 0,1

just that. Lieutenant Hunter: an officer in the law enforcing arm of the Military & Civilian Combined Forces, mid-thirties, mixed-heritage, with dark hair tied back from his lean face in a sleek tail. He was a snatcher and therefore the enemy, and right now she hated his guts.

King was heavier: seventeen, same age as her, a repeat offender, also like her, with a square face and solid jaw and a nose that looked like he’d sparred a bit. His brown hair was cropped short above a wide forehead. The grin on his face never wavered as he circled Hunter’s motionless figure. Skye felt a stab of pity.

When he lunged, grabbed, Hunter flipped back, whirled and with an easy sweep of his legs took King’s out from under him.

King went down with a thud and an explosion of colourful swearing.

‘You fight like a bull. If the assailant had half my speed you’d be dead before you hit the ground. Both of you, sim room, ten minutes.’ Without another word, Hunter strode out, slamming the door behind him.

‘Well, that went well.’ King sat up; gingerly tested his tailbone. ‘You lasted longer than me at any rate.’ He flashed a grin and stood. ‘You okay?’

‘Never better.’ Fuming, she wandered to the windows and relieved some of her frustration by kicking the skirting board. ‘Smug, stone-faced, self-satisfied, son-of-a… sod. I’ll bring him down if it’s the last thing I do,’ she promised.

‘Son-of-a-sod?’ King came and stood beside her.

Skye shrugged, wincing as her shoulder screamed in protest. ‘Had to find another ess. He’s in a pisser of a mood tonight, more than usual.’

‘Word is he’s beating himself up about Corporal Blake; she was on his snatcher team. The memorial service is next week.’ King’s eyes went flat, his eyes blank. ‘Official line, she went down in the line of duty. Snatcher’s know the risks when they sign on, but…’ He moved a shoulder. ‘I done a load’ve bad shit, brawling and stuff when I’m juiced, but offing someone…nah, that sucks. Blake brought me in coupla times and was nicer than most.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘She was okay, you know.’

They stood in silence each lost in their own thoughts. Outside it looked cold, very cold. Winter 2089 was gearing up to be a shocker. It had been raining sleet all day and snow was forecast. Despite the triple glazed windows and the heat pumping out of the climate control units, Skye shivered. Beyond Combined Forces Re-Adjustment Centre walls, frozen commuters would be swarming around the teeming beehive that was London; heads bowed and breath steaming as they juggled for shuttles, dived up and down the tubes, or grabbed a hot meal from the licensed street hawkers making the most of the rush-hour trade. The mono-rails would be full to choking now as offices spewed out workers, and those who could afford private vehicles made for the park n rides.

She looked up. Overhead in the leaden sky, a never-ending stream of refuse trains trundled their way to the transit depots for off-planet disposal on Lunar I, while freight trams bulleted around the capital scurrying down streets like cockroaches down holes. Soon the dives and brothels of the western suburbs would be heaving with punters eager to use sex, drugs, or whatever else they could, to blank out the misery of their lives for a time, while over to the south east, theatres, clubs, smart restaurants and the like would be opening their doors to the wealthy. It had been a rich hunting ground - she’d supplemented her income there for the last six years. And in the middle of it all, thrusting like a dirty great sword out of the city’s heart stood the Parliament Tower. Its sides were smooth, black and polished like glass. Eighty floors of power, topped with a spear-point of gold.

‘Are you going to stick to this deal?’ she eventually asked.

Flicking his eyes to the red dot flashing above the door, King lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. You know, as well as I do, what would happen to us out there once it got around.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Nah, I’m playing along with it for now to get the early release, but once I’m out, I’m gone. You?’

She’d struggled over this for days; ever since she’d been approached for the government’s new-fangled, use-a-thief-to-snatch-a-thief recruitment scheme. ‘I dunno, King,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘I’m eighteen soon. I’ve got a record.