Get Katja by Simon Logan

of Lady’s D notorious transvestite crew instead. He takes the pistol from his shoulder holster and checks it. Slips it back in and starts to button his coat over it then thinks better of it. Then carefully reaches into a pocket and takes out the syringe which had earlier been stuck in him, still with a thumb’s height of fluid inside the plastic chamber. Puts it back.
    He gets out and casually walks towards the alley then straight past it, again relying on peripheral vision, but it’s enough to let him know that the white van is still parked there, facing him. He slows after a few paces then turns back, fumbling in his pockets as if having forgotten something. Stops when he reaches the alley and peers into it.
    At first all he can see is the van, then a figure emerges from behind it. Tall and broad, high-heeled and with shoulder-length blonde hair.
    Lady Delicious, rummaging around in her handbag. She turns away from him and he rushes to the other side of the alley, then along the wall towards the van. He ducks underneath the driver’s side window and shuffles towards the rear wheel so that his legs and feet will remain hidden. Listens.
    He hears her mumbling something to herself then there’s a thud against the van, coming from the inside. DeBoer jumps back in shock but doesn’t move. A voice, coming from inside, too muffled to be able to tell what is being shouted. More pounding.
    Then Lady Delicious’s heeled footsteps, going towards the front of the van. DeBoer edges himself in the opposite direction, ending up at the rear of the vehicle. He peers around it and sees the Tgirl leaning in through the now-open passenger door, then stands on his tip-toes to see through the van’s rear windows. There’s movement inside, a figure lying on the ground, barely visible, but skinny and with a shaven head.
    He reaches for his gun then thinks better of it. Instead he retrieves the syringe.
    It is all so exquisitely perfect: to not only get his hands on the punk again but to steal her from the very one who was about to be sent to collect the debt from him—and to use the weapon which had been used to take her from him in the first place.
    Footsteps again, so he retreats back around the side of the van. Crouches down, watching Lady D’s incongruously muscular legs, then realizes he can see her reflected in a pane of glass which is laid up against a dumpster straight ahead. She’s got a phone in her hand now and is thumbing a message or number into it. She turns away from him and he doesn’t waste the opportunity, jumping around and stabbing the syringe into her neck, squeezing the end to deliver what remains of the sedative into her bloodstream. She grabs at her shoulder, tries to twist around but DeBoer has a hold of her. She claws at him blindly, one of his sleeves rucking up and her fingernails raking along his skin to ignite a line of pain but he holds firm until she slumps in his arms. The phone drops from her hand and he lets her crash to the ground, ending up folded in half, her forehead and left shoulder in contact with the ground, hair cloaking her and her ass high in the air.
    DeBoer takes out his gun, edges up to the door. He listens but it’s all gone quiet inside. Stands on his tip-toes again but can no longer see the figure inside. He stands as far back as he can whilst still reaching the handle then opens the door, gun pointed at the opening.
    Nothing.
    No one.
    “Alright,” he says, stepping from side to side, trying to see into the darkness. “Come on out you little bitch.”
    Movement, then a hand, held up high, fingers spread, quickly followed by another in a gesture of surrender.
    DeBoer suddenly lunges at the punk and grabs her, pulling one arm up behind her back farther than is necessary to restrain her, smiling as she squeals in pain. He forces her towards the car, slamming her into it then throwing her into the back while she is still stunned. With his grip on her finally gone she spins around to