Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) by Doug Dandridge

gave the user amazing energy, and the feeling of invulnerability and
omnipotence.  It was also highly addictive, and only put the user in the
desired state for several hours, after which the addict needed another dose. 
Sleep was impossible, eating became problematic, and most users died within a
month of becoming addicted.  Angel didn’t know why anyone would take the drug,
but there were plenty of people who would.
    That was the problem with
modern society, even though so many of the ills of the past had been cured. 
People no longer wanted for food or shelter, or cheap entertainment.  They
lived long lives, and could be cured of all known maladies, and most of the
unknown ones as well.  But many people were on the dole, unfulfilled, something
that many people overlooked among the wonders of a society in which every
working citizen could be many times more productive than at any time in the
past.  So there were still thrill seekers, and drugs, and crime for those who
wanted more out of life than sitting in their homes all day long dreaming of
better things.  There was less crime than in the past, but it still existed.
    “I’m looking for a man,”
said Angel, flashing a data chip that was encoded with over a thousand
Imperials.  They were legitimate currency, untraceable, used when people wanted
to buy and sell things and not have an official record of the transaction. 
Even the Imperial Government dealt in them, since it was always useful to be
able to get things without anyone being the wiser.
    “I took you as someone
who would want a woman,” said the Dealer, who it seemed was also a pimp.
    “The man’s name is Harold
Devries,” said Angel, his tone of voice indicating that he was not in the mood
for banter.  “I was told I could find him here.”
    The Dealer stared at him
for a moment, as if deciding what to do, then nodded.  “Wait here,” he said,
then turned and walked away, going to a table where four bored looking men
sat.  He got into an animated conversation with one of the men, and Angel focused
in on the conversation with the pickup built into the armor he wore under his
clothes.  The table had a security field around it, protecting the people from
being overheard.  It was a good one, but not good enough to spoof his systems.
    “I don’t know who he is,”
said the Dealer.  “But he was asking for you by name.”
    “I don’t like the looks
of him,” said one of the men at the table.  “He looks like the law.”
    “Go tell him you don’t
know where I am,” said one of the men, identifying himself to Angel as his target. 
“Give him this address, and tell him that I will meet him there.”
    And I will be met by a
dozen of his boys and made to disappear, thought Angel, putting his glass on the
counter and getting off the stool.  He walked to where the four men sat, aware
of their stares the entire way.
    “What the hell?” asked
one of the men.  Two of them reached hands under coats, and Angel was sure they
had the grips of pistols in those mitts.
    “ I mean no trouble,” said
Angel, holding up his hands.  He hoped the men had enough sense to not shoot
him in front of witnesses, but in this environment that might not be a given. 
People at other tables started to slide their chairs, probably to remove
themselves from the line of fire.  If I have to I can still take them out. 
But dammit, I didn’t come here to kill some hoods for no return.
    “What the hell do you
mean?” asked the only other man at the table who had spoken.
    “I need to talk with
Harold,” he said, looking directly at the named man so Devries would know that
Angel recognized him.  “I can make it worth your while.”  As he said that he
moved the fingers of his right hand slowly and a data chip appeared there as if
by magic.  It was a little trick he had learned in the Fleet, good for winning
drinks.  The chip was encoded with a hundred thousand Imperials, enough to
entice even a mid-level