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Authors: Frank Chadwick
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brought in from off-planet—real pros, good enough to penetrate a secure facility and take out old Sarro, his kids, driver, bodyguard, and anyone standing around watching. Anyway, they do the deed. What comes next? Time to leave.”
Maybe. But something just didn’t add up.
“We know the kids aren’t kidnapped?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Only fools are positive, but I’d say ninety percent. Blood of one of the kids was on Jones and at the original scene. Besides, no percentage in keeping them alive. This is a very, very rich family, Sasha. You never, ever kidnap kids from families this rich, because all that buys you is a life of running, and a very ugly end. If you’re going to fuck with them at all, better kill ’em and be done with it.”
“The family won’t do the same if the kids are dead?”
“No. No. You’re a hopeless romantic, Sasha, God love you. But the truth is, it ain’t a very romantic world.”
I already had that much figured out. But hell, everyone was a romantic compared to Bernie—with the possible exception of Kolya.
“See, with the kids dead, it’s easier to disappear,” he went on. “No contact for the ransom transfer, no buckage to trace, not as many leads without the kids to help. Kidnapping is a humiliation, and that you have to deal with if you want to stay on top. You know? But death . . . death is just a tragedy, and tragedies you endure, with dignity. Besides, now that the kids are gone, somebody else in the family inherits all that buckage. Very consoling. Very consoling.”
* * *
Bernie had given me part of the puzzle, but not a part that helped with my immediate problems all that much. I was holed up in a little flat in a building Henry owned. Shower, kitchenette, foldie-bed, and a desk with a viewer was about all there was. In a funny kind of way, I liked it. It was basic, and right now, basic was good. My environment was stripped down to bare essentials, uncluttered, and that helped my thinking. If you don’t think that your environment shapes the pattern of your thinking, you don’t know much.
If I was careful—and I was—I could still move around a bit during the day, like to find Bernie. I just dressed like a gutter bum, and nobody looked twice. I kind of liked the sense of freedom that gave me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to press my luck.
“So what’s our move, boss?” Henry asked as I poured him hot tea.
Where would I be without his guy? He could have just stood back and watched, or could have turned me over to Kolya, but he’d gotten me out of Quann’s without anyone recognizing me, and gotten me here to this place, where I’d been able to sleep off the drug. Why? I’d asked him.
“Maybe I don’t want your job any more than you want Kolya’s,” he’d answered.
Yeah, maybe not. But I doubted that either one of us could afford the luxury of that choice much longer.
Kolya had scoured the city for me all last night. He’d regroup today, think things over, but he’d start beating the bush tomorrow at the latest. Beating the bush meant hurting my people, so what was our move?
“We punch,” I answered. “But if we punch now, we’re punching blind. We aren’t strong enough to punch everywhere, so we have to look for a soft spot. There’s something with these two leather-head silencers that’s mixed up with all this, but I can’t make it out. We’ve got to make somebody talk to us, and right now—tonight.”
“Archie?” Howard asked.
“No. Too hard to get to. Archie, Bear . . . everybody’s going to be bunkered up.”
“Okay, so who then?”
* * *
The “glass” on the balcony sliding door was actually a high-density synthetic, but that was pretty standard on these upscale lease units, and my ultrasonic cutter went right through it. I reached in the hole and undid the latch, and then slid the door open, slow but steady. I hadn’t done any of this second-story stuff in quite a few years, but I was surprised
Maybe. But something just didn’t add up.
“We know the kids aren’t kidnapped?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Only fools are positive, but I’d say ninety percent. Blood of one of the kids was on Jones and at the original scene. Besides, no percentage in keeping them alive. This is a very, very rich family, Sasha. You never, ever kidnap kids from families this rich, because all that buys you is a life of running, and a very ugly end. If you’re going to fuck with them at all, better kill ’em and be done with it.”
“The family won’t do the same if the kids are dead?”
“No. No. You’re a hopeless romantic, Sasha, God love you. But the truth is, it ain’t a very romantic world.”
I already had that much figured out. But hell, everyone was a romantic compared to Bernie—with the possible exception of Kolya.
“See, with the kids dead, it’s easier to disappear,” he went on. “No contact for the ransom transfer, no buckage to trace, not as many leads without the kids to help. Kidnapping is a humiliation, and that you have to deal with if you want to stay on top. You know? But death . . . death is just a tragedy, and tragedies you endure, with dignity. Besides, now that the kids are gone, somebody else in the family inherits all that buckage. Very consoling. Very consoling.”
* * *
Bernie had given me part of the puzzle, but not a part that helped with my immediate problems all that much. I was holed up in a little flat in a building Henry owned. Shower, kitchenette, foldie-bed, and a desk with a viewer was about all there was. In a funny kind of way, I liked it. It was basic, and right now, basic was good. My environment was stripped down to bare essentials, uncluttered, and that helped my thinking. If you don’t think that your environment shapes the pattern of your thinking, you don’t know much.
If I was careful—and I was—I could still move around a bit during the day, like to find Bernie. I just dressed like a gutter bum, and nobody looked twice. I kind of liked the sense of freedom that gave me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to press my luck.
“So what’s our move, boss?” Henry asked as I poured him hot tea.
Where would I be without his guy? He could have just stood back and watched, or could have turned me over to Kolya, but he’d gotten me out of Quann’s without anyone recognizing me, and gotten me here to this place, where I’d been able to sleep off the drug. Why? I’d asked him.
“Maybe I don’t want your job any more than you want Kolya’s,” he’d answered.
Yeah, maybe not. But I doubted that either one of us could afford the luxury of that choice much longer.
Kolya had scoured the city for me all last night. He’d regroup today, think things over, but he’d start beating the bush tomorrow at the latest. Beating the bush meant hurting my people, so what was our move?
“We punch,” I answered. “But if we punch now, we’re punching blind. We aren’t strong enough to punch everywhere, so we have to look for a soft spot. There’s something with these two leather-head silencers that’s mixed up with all this, but I can’t make it out. We’ve got to make somebody talk to us, and right now—tonight.”
“Archie?” Howard asked.
“No. Too hard to get to. Archie, Bear . . . everybody’s going to be bunkered up.”
“Okay, so who then?”
* * *
The “glass” on the balcony sliding door was actually a high-density synthetic, but that was pretty standard on these upscale lease units, and my ultrasonic cutter went right through it. I reached in the hole and undid the latch, and then slid the door open, slow but steady. I hadn’t done any of this second-story stuff in quite a few years, but I was surprised
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