Neb watched for my reaction very attentively. But my poker face didn’t tell anything.
“You’re not just a lone wolf, are you? It’s okay, I won’t dig deeper. Your cover as street rat has been really good. Too good, otherwise you wouldn’t have been treated so roughly. The colleagues seem to be really worried about that. They’re only relieved that your rescuer and you have got away unhurt, but have no clue about the Cartel. Except for one, and that one has disappeared.”
“Dragon snot.”
“But we’ll get him. I believe you don’t need to worry about him. He’s burned, for both sides.”
“Maybe I did the others injustice. Sorry. Anyway—who was the insider in the precinct and where does he live?”
“Why would you still bother?”
“Because that was our deal. In exchange, I tell you which people attacked the precinct.”
Chapter Five
My scrutinizing gaze wandered across the furniture. Worn-out armchairs with small chip crumbs in the gaps facing a TV, a couch table with sports magazines and picture magazines of undressed women, a few overloaded shelves and a few pictures on the wall—a police academy group photo, a family portrait, probably with his parents, an older commendation certificate. Dust wasn’t removed here often or thoroughly.
So that was how a police officer lived.
I didn’t know what exactly I was looking for. If my target had shown up here recently, the two colleagues who were observing the place from outside would surely already have taken him into custody. If there were any obvious traces here, the police would surely have found them. However, they hadn’t turned the place upside down, or it would look different.
What kind of guy was this man? For a bachelor, the place looked rather tidy. No beer was spilled here. I only found stains on the newspapers, not on the table itself. Nor could I find any specks of sperm or pussy juice in carpet or upholstery, so he probably hadn’t fucked in this room. Nevertheless, I could smell a residue of sperm—ah yes, he probably had touched the magazines with smeared hands.
Worn-out sportsmen’s biographies were piling up on the open shelves, while the crime stories next to them looked freshly printed. Unread gifts? Behind the doors of another shelf, I found two rows of DVDs—sports and porn films, both categories with clear traces of use.
I noticed what I didn’t find—items that would have indicated active participation in sports. Here were no balls, no gloves, no baseball bats, no club pennants, but also no devotional objects of famous sportsmen. This man seemed to be a pure consumer, perhaps lost in dreams, but too passive to get his own ass going. Perhaps it was the same with women? Who never went out, but only sat at his home TV, wouldn’t find a mate for his bed. Or you had to do with female suspects.
This all didn’t help me. I was no super psychologist who could derive a profile from a few clues and deduce the culprit’s next steps from it.
Well then. What did the kitchen look like?
A current duty roster was magnet-mounted to the fridge door, next to it hung a three-years-old ticket for a football game. Denver Dream against Dallas Desire—I thought the local team was named Broncos? No—this here was the Lingerie Football League.
There were no secrets hidden in the cupboards. They were neatly tidied up. And the fridge? Before opening, I pulled the plug, so that the light couldn’t give me away. Then I examined the beer supply that occupied most of the space. Nothing.
Think, Jo!
The guy had noticed the assault, too. Perhaps it was stupid chance, but the situation had entirely gone bad. Suddenly, it wasn’t the Cartel against a street rat, where you’d briefly look away. Instead, a lot of colleagues were affected—hit—and all because of him. For whom would they come? For him.
The Cartel might have paid him, but surely not enough to start a new life. The old life no longer existed. It had turned into ruins together with the precinct. Oh yes, I could follow this line of thoughts.
As opposed to me, he didn’t have a second life to pull out of the hat, and he also wasn’t used to leaving everything behind and simply starting anew in a new city. His life depended on order and clear rules. The Cartel might not easily fit, but on the other hand, they might have been a normal part of his world for him?
Perhaps he had been risk-averse. To openly disagree with the Cartel was a big risk. To sacrifice a street rat, whom nobody would miss, was no risk. Or was this reasoning flawed? Alan had visited me, so someone could have missed me.
Someone could have examined me and found traces of abuse, another threat to the familiar order. Then it would be better if the street rat disappeared beforehand, wasn’t it?
That all had gone wrong. Botched.
Where could he turn to?
I returned to the living room. What was written in the topmost opened sports newspaper?
LFL season schedule.
The next weekend, Denver Dreams would have a home game against San Diego Seduction.
Okay.
Chapter Six
He didn’t even flinch when I sat down in the seat next to him. He only stared at the dark field in front and below us.
“Am I arrested?” he asked.
“I’m not in charge of that.”
Now he briefly looked up. “You!” But right next he stared forward again. “What do you want?”
“A name.”
“What for?”
“For a talk.”
“With a Cartel killer?” He laughed out. “That will be a short talk.” Then he cocked his head. “Why are you still alive, anyway?”
“I didn’t drink the knockout drops,” I lied.
“How did you learn about it?”
I remained silent.
“It was nothing personal.”
“I know. I’m just a street rat.”
“Yes. It seemed to be the easiest way.”
“Without resistance.”
“Exactly. You can’t deny if the Cartel kindly asks.”
“That would be the hard way.”
“For suicide.”
“Perhaps. I’ve resisted, and I’m still alive.”
“What could a single person do, anyway?”
“Disarm a nuke in the city center?”
He flinched.
“Why did you become a policeman?”
“I don’t know. My father was a police officer, too.”
“His idea?”
“Yes.”
The easiest way. No resistance against the father, and moreover, a way to law and order.
“Give me a name.”
“What’s in for me?”
“I won’t bother you any longer.”
“In exchange for a Cartel killer.”
“Your colleagues are looking for you. Everyone knows about it, and you know a name. The killer will try to close this hole. He’ll be after you anyway—except if I deal with him first.”
“You can’t win.”
“It’s not about winning.”
“What else then?”
“About playing the game well.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I know.”
He sighed. “Well then. I’ll tell you. You—”
Wait, there’s something!
The next moment, a shot echoed through the stadium.
Chapter Seven
The shot could no longer surprise me, after my Analogy had noticed the laser-sight reflex. With a firm push, I had got my talking partner behind the cover of the next seat row just in time.
Now, I was invisible, and, with long jumps, on my way to the stadium’s opposite side, where the sniper just tore his rifle up and turned to escape. Had he seen me becoming invisible, or only generally noticed having lost sight of his target?
In any case, he didn’t try to save the situation. His mission had failed, so he shut it down and retreated.
Or, more precisely, he tried to retreat. No, sir! With giant leaps, I reached the staircase from where he had shot and dashed down t
he stairs. I reached the lower platform immediately after him, became visible again and jumped at him. He’d believe I’d been lying in wait for him here.
I wasn’t inclined to a long wrestling fight. Instead, I reached for his crotch and pressed firmly. With a high-pitched scream, he went down.
With my free hand I tore his rifle away and tossed it across the hallway. He immediately jerked and tried to free himself. So I had to press his balls again.
“Shall I tear them off?”
Again, he tried to wriggle himself free.
“That’s enough.” With a sharp fingernail I cut the tendons at his left knee.
But now, he had torn a knife out. I pushed myself away from him and out of his left arm’s reach. For one moment, we watched each other.
“You!”
I only smiled.
“Bloody slut!”
“Does the shoulder still hurt?” A comminuted collarbone fracture had to be unpleasant. I found it amazing that he already was active again, as our last encounter lay only two and a half days behind.
“Fuck yourself!”
With one hand, I reached into my nano shorts, pulled it out again and joyously licked my fingers. “I’m ready, and you?”
He tried to get up. However, his leg didn’t play along. With a curse, he gave up.
“Put that knife away.”
“Dragon whore.”
“Put that knife away, or I take it from you.”
“Try to.”
My right hand shot forward like a striking cobra, squeezed his left hand and made him scream again, and then I could take the weapon from his powerless, broken fingers with my left.
“Okay, let’s start over. Good evening. I am Jo, your job. You are my killer. Who hired you?”
“I won’t tell.”
“That’s what you believe now.”
“If you kill me now, they’ll all be after you!”
“I won’t kill you. You’re only doing your job, and I’m doing mine. About that, I have to talk to your client, and for that I need his name. That’s all I want from you.”
“You’d let me go?”
“No. You’ll have to crawl, unless I carry you to your car.”
“What about the cop?”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re an ice-cold bitch.”
“Good that you’ve recognized that. So, what’s his name?”
Chapter Eight
Innocently, my next target entered his office and headed toward his desk. I took the time to study his even face, the gel-glossy hairdo, and the sporty suit. Thus looked the man who had hired my killer.
Finally, my patience was rewarded. He had to come at some time—his office was shielded and secured, the only room in the house where he could hold delicate conversations undisturbed and unoverheard.
At least so far he could assume that, and I wasn’t inclined to teach him better. So I didn’t show myself—while I was about to firmly step on the Cartel’s toes again, I wasn’t crazy enough to do it openly.
Instead, since I had heard his steps approaching, I hung from the ceiling of his office invisibly. This position was uncomfortable in every regard, and under normal circumstances, the muscles of my outstretched arms and legs would surely burn like hell by now. However, I had forbidden that to my body, just like sweating or loud breathing.
His phone only rang once before he picked it up.
“How did it go?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Failed,” came from the speaker.
“What’s happened?”
“The floozy got there before me. She must have noticed something—just when I pulled the trigger, she dragged him away from the line of fire. I then decided to cancel.”
“Right so. What about the floozy? How could she spot you?”
“She’d already been there and talked to him when I assumed my position. Perhaps chance, perhaps she’d seen a light reflex?”
“Can’t help it. What happened next?”
“She followed me and somehow managed to intercept me.”
“What? And, did you finish her off?”
“No. She finished me off. That is, she cut the tendons of my left leg and broke my right hand’s fingers. I couldn’t do anything, she simply was better.”
“Damn. But she left you alive? Why?”
“She said it wasn’t anything personal, just a job. Afterward, she even carried me to my car, so that I could get away.”
“Afterward?”
“After I gave her your name and address.”
He looked up to the ceiling—toward me—and rolled his eyes. The fingers around the phone became white the way he pressed them.
“Ey, I couldn’t do anything. She’d massaged my balls until my sight went black.”
Yes, that, too. My pursuer wasn’t of the toughest sort. He didn’t care about shooting down other people. But once he was the target, he quickly had become tame.
“I’m out for a while. I have no whole trigger finger left. Watch out for yourself, as it’s possible she’ll give you a visit.”
“Hardly. Okay, my friend, thanks for the warning. For now, recover, and I’ll send another one for the cop. Can you tell where he is?”
“Checked that. He’s turned himself in.”
“Oh, well. I’ll see to that.”
He disconnected. So my traitor had rediscovered a residue of integrity after I had undeservedly saved him from the killer? Well—no matter. My target dialed a number in Nevada, which I memorized well.
“Hello.”
“How can we help you?”
“I need an exterminator. My cat can’t do it alone.”
“What kind of vermin do you have?”
“Rats, snakes—and the cat. Conventional means have failed.”
“Then we will send a specialist for difficult cases.”
“Thanks.”
So I was a difficult case. Good to know—and if he’d left the room now, I could have assumed a more comfortable position at last.
Instead, the telephone rang again. He frowned.
“Yes, please?”
“We’ve heard of a problem.”
He flinched.
“Yes. There’s been a—no, three complications.”
“What kind of complications?”
“The primary target managed to escape the corrective measure again. Moreover, it sabotaged the secondary measure. According to my preliminary assessment, the cause is the entry of a new faction.”
“The assessment is our responsibility. How could the primary measure fail?”
“The primary target damaged the corrective factor.”
Now that was a nice way to put it!
“So you’ve failed.”
Pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“I couldn’t foresee the new faction. They’ve been after the girl, too!”
“In which way did the new faction’s entry impede the primary mission?”
“They attacked the precinct—”
“Caution.”
“They attacked the target location during the corrective action’s critical phase. The target object was able to take advantage of the disruption. During the disruption, the corrective factor was damaged.”
Soo? My killer hadn’t admitted that I had got him before?
“The new faction’s effectiveness was amplified by the preparative measures for the correction. The target location’s workers were peeved about it in an unrecoverable way. All over, the disruption led to burning our contact.”
“Literally.”
“No—the secondary measure couldn’t be executed. The primary target intercepted the damaged corrective factor again.”
“It was a mistake to reuse a failed and damaged corrective factor.”
“Yes. I agree. It was a mistake to prefer the immediately available resource for a quick reaction. That’s why I asked for support now. I won’t make this mistake again.”
“So time was the r
eason?”
“Yes—the contact problem needed to be solved before he could turn to his colleagues. Obviously, the primary target was already about to facilitate this. The secondary corrective action would have happened just in time. Sadly, the primary target prevented this. We hadn’t expected it to be a professional target potentially. I propose a new assessment.”
“We accept your reasons for the resource decision. Due to your previous call, the reassessment has already been triggered.”
He took a deep breath. His composure relaxed.
“The primary target must be fought with all means. Collateral damage is irrelevant. Your exposition is acceptable. The secondary target is no longer in scope.”
“Understood.”
Uh-oh.
Chapter Nine
This was above my pay grade. With all means and Collateral damage irrelevant sounded to me as if they’d be prepared to blow half the city to pieces for my sake—perhaps not with a nuclear bomb, but with any smaller caliber.
My healing abilities wouldn’t help against that. Once I was torn into shreds, it was ultimately over for me. No, thanks. I’d better stuck to my proven recipe for success—nondescript and invisible.
In any case, I had a phone number. It told me of my next destination—Nevada. I only had to get out of here first.
However, after a brief contemplative pause, my involuntary host reached for the phone again. Scumbag, my arms are rotting off here, I thought, but then I pricked my ears.
“Yes?”
“We’ll have a visitor, a specialist. There will be some unrest soon. Pass that on.”
“Parole?”
“Keep heads down, and wait. I’ll call when it’s over.”
“That bad?”
“No considerations.”
“Damn. But not for the floozy, is it?”
“It is. Keep out.”
“Well then. Can’t take long.”
You’ll be surprised, I thought. But this call confirmed my plan to get away from here as soon as possible. As soon as I could do that inconspicuously.
Lover Page 2
