World of Fire (Dev Harmer 01) by James Lovegrove Page A

have to say for yourself?”
    Dev struggled up to a sitting position. Every organ in his body seemed to be slipping out of alignment. His brain was trying to ooze out of his cranium via his eye sockets and his nostrils. His stomach was pushing against his lungs; his heart slumped a little further sideways with every beat.
    It was the mother of all hangovers.
    “Latrine’s over there, if you’re going to barf,” Kahlo said. “Just be sure to aim away from me. I put a fresh-pressed uniform on this morning.”
    Dev peered blearily around. A bunk, wipe-clean walls and floor. Recessed overhead lighting behind shatterproof plastic.
    Holding cell. He was back at the Calder’s Edge police headquarters.
    “I must lodge a complaint with the management,” he said. “This isn’t the five-star penthouse suite I was promised. Where’s my hot tub?”
    “Hey, count your blessings. You got a private room and your own bed. You could’ve been stowed with all the other drunk-and-disorderlies, but last night was a busy one. Seems like half of Calder’s went on a bender. The drying-out tank was full. They were packed on the floor like sardines. Can’t blame them, I suppose. These quakes. The pressure’s getting to people.”
    Dev did a quick inventory of his injuries. Contusions everywhere, several stiff muscles, swollen knuckles. One loosened tooth. A half-closed eye. What might have been a cracked – but was probably just a badly bruised – rib. Maybe a torn rotator cuff tendon.
    “Ouch,” he said as he experimented gingerly with the shoulder. If not torn, the tendon was certainly wrenched.
    “You treat these host forms like rental cars, is that it?” said Kahlo. “Doesn’t matter how many dents and dings you put in the bodywork because they’re not your own?”
    “No,” he said. “Well, kind of. Not exactly. Put it this way: it doesn’t matter as much . I’m only in it for the short term, not the long haul.”
    “Hence you pull these stupid stunts. I mean, you had me beating you up about three minutes after you got here. Then you assault the doorman at Inferno.”
    “You know about that?”
    “Jacko Dusenberg, the owner, filed a complaint. We extrapolated backwards, cross-checked security footage, found you in the vicinity of the club at the correct time. Dusenberg IDed you. You assaulted him as well, but I talked him out of pressing charges because he was associating with Franz Glazkov.”
    “Who I was tailing.”
    “Right. I put two and two together and threatened Dusenberg with arrest for consorting with a known dealer in unlicensed pharmaceuticals. He caved.”
    “You’re my guardian angel.”
    “Don’t get cocky,” said Kahlo. “And now, to cap it all, you wind up in a bar fight. You hospitalise three mine employees.”
    “I didn’t start it. I only made sure I finished it.”
    “Fortunately for you, I believe you. We have eyewitnesses saying the three guys followed you into the men’s room. They were talking about teaching you a lesson. They didn’t want ‘your kind’ stinking up their favourite watering hole.”
    “They weren’t the most enlightened human beings I’ve met. You could have them up for hate crimes, if you like.”
    “I think they’ve been punished enough already. But Harmer, help me out here. Why is it you can’t seem to stay out of trouble? You haven’t been on Alighieri one day, and shit just keeps happening around you.”
    “It’s not something I encourage.”
    “Were those miners another attempt on your life, do you think? Did somebody pay them?”
    “No, it was a... misunderstanding. They got an idea into their heads that they shouldn’t have. They’re the sort of people who don’t need much of an excuse to pick on the sort of people they don’t like.”
    “You’re sure about that?”
    “As much as I can be.”
    Kahlo grunted in annoyance. “So, doesn’t tell me why you’re incapable of keeping a low profile and simply getting on with what you’re