Free Hive Monkey by Gareth L. Powell Page B

a pistol grip fixed to the underside.
    “What does it do?”
    Ack-Ack Macaque reached out and took it back. He held it at arm’s length and aimed the ‘lens’ at the far wall.
    He pulled the trigger. Nothing seemed to happen.
    “Is it broken?”
    The monkey shook his head, and pointed a leathery finger at the wall. Amongst the papers, a small spot of plaster smouldered, molten red. The notes around it were charred at the edges; the photos had curled and melted, as if shrinking away from a flame.
    “Good, huh? It must be some kind of ray gun.”
    Victoria scratched her chin. “Or an x-ray, perhaps?” She wished Paul were here, as she was sure he’d know. “Anyway, be careful where you point it.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque gave a gleeful simian grin. “Yes, boss.”
    She turned. “Hey, Cole. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
    The writer looked up from wringing his hands. “What?” He stood upright, and shuffled over. “What is it?”
    “A ray gun,” Ack-Ack Macaque said.
    “Let me see.” Cole snatched the gun from the monkey’s hand, and glowered at it. He turned it over and over in his hands. His tongue poked into the side of his cheek as he inhaled a long breath. “Ray gun, indeed.” He stopped turning it and held it by the grip, forefinger resting on the trigger guard. He extended his arm and closed his left eye, drawing a bead on the futon.
    “Be careful,” Victoria said.
    He turned to her. “I’m not an idiot.”
    “I never said you were...” Victoria trailed off. It was quite obvious that Cole had stopped listening to her. His eyes were focused on something she couldn’t see: a thousand yard stare into the middle distance. His lips were working soundlessly, opening and closing, forming words she couldn’t hear. The breath rasped in and out of his nostrils. “Uh, Cole?” He didn’t react, and gave no signs of having heard her. She put a hand to his shoulder, and he went rigid. She could see beads of sweat forming at his temples. “What’s happening? What’s the matter?” She turned to Ack-Ack Macaque. “Is he having a fit?”
    “How the hell would I know?”
    Cole let out a moan. Every limb shook, and she thought he would fall. Then whatever was holding him seemed to relax its grip, and he sagged instead.
    “I have to go.” His voice was hoarse.
    “Go? Go where?”
    “Get away from me.” He shook her off angrily. “I’m not waiting around here to be killed. I’ve got to go. Got to get out.”
    Holding the pistol at waist height, he blundered backwards until he stood in the open doorway.
    Ack-Ack Macaque made to follow.
    “Hey, Cole, wait.”
    The writer brandished the strange pistol in the monkey’s face.
    “Stay back!” His eyes were manic-looking slits. His lips were drawn back from his teeth. As Victoria watched, his knuckle whitened on the trigger. The shot drilled a smouldering hole through the top of Ack-Ack Macaque’s fedora. “Stay back, or I’ll kill you both!”
     
     
    T HEY LISTENED TO the American’s footsteps clump down the stairs.
    Ack-Ack Macaque turned to Victoria. “Should I go after him?” He had his hat in his hand, one finger exploring the charred puncture. The beam had burned its way in at the front, and out at the back, singeing a few hairs on the top of the monkey’s head.
    Victoria waved him on. “Yes, but be careful.”
    “What about you?” He flexed his leathery fingers, and drew one of the silver Colts from beneath his coat. “No offence, but I can probably move faster without you.”
    Downstairs, they heard the front door bang.
    Victoria didn’t have the energy for a chase. She couldn’t keep up with the monkey, and she knew it. “I’ll get a taxi back to the Tereshkova, and do some digging around. Find out if Cole had a twin, that sort of thing. Meanwhile, you and K8 find Cole and get him into the car. Call me when you’re on your way back.”
    The monkey touched the barrel of the revolver to his brow. “Right-o.”
    “And