"How do you know they're not here for only you?" Reuben asked as he cowered behind his desk.
"If they were here for just me, they'd come to your office rather than start a firefight. And I doubt you ordered the folks out there to protect me," Joe grumbled.
"I didn't."
"Exactly." Joe went to stand next to the door and nodded toward the screen in Reuben's desk. "Check the videos. What are we up against?"
Reuben raised his head just far enough to peek over the edge of his desk. He brought up one hand and tapped along the screen. "It looks like we're being attacked from the front."
"Have they gotten into the bar yet?" Joe asked.
"No. The shields are holding. But, my God, the street's full of cutters." His jaw slackened as he looked up at Joe. "They're all Iron Guild." His brow furrowed, and he hit the desk with his fist. "Damn it, Cat. It's one thing to try to steal my clients. It's something else to attack me outright."
Joe frowned. "She's never been one for a frontal assault. That's not her style."
Reuben pointed at his screen. "She's out there. I see her. And it looks like the entire Iron Guild's with her. There are only six hunters here right now. We don't stand a chance against her." He gulped. "I should use my tunnel."
Joe held up a hand. "Not yet. You're safe in here until they breach the bar. If they do that, then you can run. Until then, stay here. I'll send in the customers. Lock the door behind them. We don't know what the Iron Guild's up to."
"You're leaving me?" Reuben's voice practically squeaked.
"Like you said, there's only six of us here, and the shields won't hold them off forever." Joe inhaled, opened the door, then stepped through the private room into the bar. He scanned the place in a quick second: The patrons cowered behind tables and the bar, except for the drunk who was still passed out at the bar top. The four other hunters in the bar were lined up on their stomachs below the shielded front window, each of them shooting out through small, round sniper's holes that were the only unshielded spots on Harry Haft's.
"Everyone not with the agency, into the back with Reuben, now!" Joe shouted. The customers remained frozen until Arthur Law jumped to his feet and sprinted to Reuben's office. The remaining dozen or so patrons and the bartender followed. Joe strode over to the drunk, holstered his blasters to grab the man by the shoulders, and dragged him into the office. As soon as the man's feet were through the door, Joe returned to the bar.
This time, he unslung his rifle and slid into place alongside the other hunters shooting at the Iron Guild forces, who'd parked their vehicles tight together and in two parallel rows. Their attackers hid behind their rigs for cover, firing at the building while remaining protected.
Joe pressed a control near the floor in front of him, and a sniper's hole opened. He leveled the tip of his rifle just behind it.
"Glad you could join us," Bolt said dryly to his left.
"I had nothing better to do," Joe said as he picked a group and fired a series of shots, sending two hunters ducking behind a blue cutter.
Bolt fired at a nearby group as well. He not only missed the hunter, he missed the entire vehicle.
"Wow, you're a lousy shot."
"I make up for it with my many other talents."
"I don't want to know," Joe griped as he continued firing.
"Besides," Bolt went on, "it's not like we can hit any of them behind those cutters, and their blasters can't penetrate our shields. We're in a stand-off."
"You think they're here as a diversion?"
Bolt shrugged. "I have no idea why they're here."
Joe frowned as he analyzed the positions of the cutters. "The lineup doesn't make sense."
"Yeah, it does. They set up a barrier to hide behind."
Joe stopped firing to motion outside. "The first row does that, but the second row should have gaps in case they need to fall back. Otherwise, they could get trapped between the two rows."
"They probably assume they won't have to fall back. It's obvious they outnumber us."
"I don't like it," Joe muttered.
"Is there anything you like?"
"Sure. A big red steak. And lemons."
"What are lemons?"
"They're a small roundish fruit that's yellow. Very tart in the best way. I had one once from the silo's gardens when I was a kid. That was the best thing I've ever eaten in my life."
Joe caught a glimpse of dark metal when the back of a cutter in the second row began opening. He paused his shots. "A photon cannon."
"You like photon cannons?" Bolt asked.
"I do, but not the one they're pointing at us."
Bolt scanned the area. "I don't see—oh. I can't believe they'd use that with me in here."
"They must not have gotten the memo that your armor is too pretty to scuff," Joe said sarcastically.
The photon cannon lifted from the back of the cutter's bed and started cranking around to point directly at the window.
"Incoming!" Joe yelled.