Sam Marlowe's Arc

Chapter 3 of 14

Sam ran until the fog thinned. He had the cannery's location now, but Knuckles Malone had heard it too. The ogre had survived Blackwater's hook. He was hunting Sam through the dark streets, and one wrong turn meant a bullet. Sam needed the enforcer gone before he could reach the relic. He couldn't outrun him. So he decided to outthink him. He made for the one place Knuckles wouldn't follow. Eight stories of brown stone rose ahead, cell windows barred, a helipad crowning the roof. The police station. A hood with a gun didn't walk through those doors. Sam did. He climbed the steps and asked for the only cop who might listen. Lieutenant McSnork worked Homicide. Sam had crossed him before. The Ork was squat and grey-green, with small horns and a cigar clamped in pointed teeth. He looked up from his desk and frowned. He didn't like Sam. He liked liars less. "Marlowe." Smoke rolled from the cigar. "You look chased." "Knuckles Malone," Sam said. "He opened fire on me at the docks tonight. He's outside now, waiting for me to leave." McSnork stood. His yellow eyes narrowed. "Malone. Crime boss muscle." He chewed the cigar. "You bring shooting to my streets?" "He brought it. I brought it here, to you." The Ork studied him a long moment. He didn't trust Sam. But a gun going off near citizens was a line he wouldn't let a hood cross. He grabbed his coat. "Show me." They stepped out under the station lights. Knuckles waited across the street, purple face bruised, one hand under his coat. He saw the badge on McSnork's chest and froze. "Malone," McSnork called. "Hands where I see them." Knuckles hesitated. His hand twitched toward the holster. That was the mistake. McSnork drew first, fast for a squat thing, and three uniformed cops spilled out behind him. Guns leveled from every side. The ogre weighed it. One cop he might beat. Not four, not under the station's own lights. Slowly he raised both hands. "Discharging a firearm at the docks," McSnork said. He snapped cuffs around the thick wrists. "You'll sit in a cell while I check the story." They walked Knuckles up the steps and through the doors. At the threshold the ogre turned his bruised face back to Sam. He said nothing. He didn't need to. His look promised he'd remember. McSnork stopped beside Sam. He didn't smile. "Malone's off the street. For now." He bit down on the cigar. "But you lied to me once, Marlowe. I don't forget that either." He turned and followed his men inside. Sam stood alone on the steps. The hunter was in a cage. The path to the cannery was open. But Knuckles wouldn't stay caged long, and a lieutenant who half-trusted him now watched his every move. Sam pulled his coat tight and headed north.