INSIDIOUS ASSASSINS

by Jack Ketchum

  “She died this morning,” I said.

  “Holy shit.” Jack sunk into one of the chairs and lit a fresh cigarette.

  I popped two Rolling Rocks. I brought Jack one and then checked out the CDs. One was a Prong album I didn’t recognize, so I put that one on.

  “I remember these guys from high school,” I said. “Music to break bones to.”

  Jack’s face had gone white.

  “Hey, sorry. I’m not trying to sound tough. You are in trouble, though. I guess you know that.” I sat down on the couch and drank half of my beer in one gulp. I was sweating, and for some reason Jack didn’t have the air cranked. I ground out my cigarette.

  “I know Snyder wants the money I’m down,” Jack said. “The money that Rachel didn’t cover. He won’t get it if I’m dead! My band is at the tipping point. We’re going to be big, I can feel it. If he just gives me a little more time, he’ll get his money and spades on top of it.”

  Jack wasn’t just bullshitting me about the band. They had been on the verge of something back in the early 2000s. Then the little record label in Philly that had signed them went under, and Jack’s band didn’t get the rights back to their music. Took years. Everyone just kind of moved on. A year ago, they got asked to reunite for a benefit show—this old punk promoter had MS and no money left. The band started writing new material and getting a lot of play on local radio. And the fans weren’t just aging rockers like us. Rachel was only twenty-one.

  “The problem is a lot bigger than the money,” I said. “You’ve made too many people angry. There’s the drugs you didn’t pay for. And then there’s the nighttime sessions with Betty.”

  He stood up and pointed at me. “Betty is into me. She doesn’t charge for me.”

  “Jack, we’re friends from way back, but if you try lying to me tonight, I will kill you. Now sit down and drink your beer and listen to me.”

  He sat down.

  “And, no, Betty isn’t into you. She’s not into anyone as near as I can tell.”

  Betty is one of Snyder’s ladies. She’s a big girl with big assets, but she wears them smoothly like a pin-up from another decade. The faint wrinkles around her mouth add to the idea that she’s from another time. She’s gotten more gray-haired lawyers and bankers in Wilmington into honey traps than you could ever imagine. She’d look great on an album cover, I’d give her that.

  “So on those two counts,” I said, “Snyder is down money thanks to you. Now we add in Rachel. The Prescotts make plenty of legitimate money, but they’re also in bed with Snyder. You’ve put Snyder in a jam with them. Because he’s been letting their sweet little angel go to his hangouts, drink his booze, buy his drugs, and support the bad habits of this thirtysomething punk rocker she’s so in love with. Think about how much pressure he’s under, from them, to kill you.”

  Jack had finished his beer. He looked like he was about to cry into the bottle.

  “Have some of the whiskey,” I said. “I think you need it. Hell, let’s both have some.” I stood up and took a pull from the Seagram’s bottle. Then I handed it to him. He did his from his chair. I took it back and gave him another bottle of beer.

  “On the other hand,” I said, sitting on the arm of the couch, “it’s not exactly a secret that you’re in debt to Snyder. If someone kills you, the police are going to be all over him. It’s a headache. But that’s where you’re really in trouble. Because there are guys out there who aren’t in with Snyder, and they want to be. And knocking you off cleanly could make any one of them a star.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “My Uncle Dick visited me this morning.” I didn’t really call him that anymore—Dick wasn’t related to me by blood—but that’s how Jack would know him. My dad left when I was a little kid, and Dick dated my mom for a while. After he broke things off with her, he still helped me out here and there. He’s a weird guy, but he’s the closest thing to a dad I ever had. He’s also a triggerman for Snyder. Jack had seen him around when we were teenagers.

  “Why would he want to help me?”

  “He doesn’t. This is just between you and me. Dick laid all this out for me because he knows we’re friends. He gives you around twenty-four hours. He can’t go against Snyder, but if I happen to know this stuff and decide to help you, no one has to know. It’s just one of those things if you get away.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll explain it in a second. Do you have shot glasses in here? Or any sort of glasses? I think we need another shot. At least I know I do. This is a big deal.”

  Jack went into the kitchen and came back with a couple of plastic cups, the tall ones with three indentations. I pointed to the coffee table for them, and then I poured whiskey into each one, a little bit past the first indentation. The Prong was ringing in my ears, and my throat was getting dry. I had a little more of my beer. Jack put his empty beer bottle down on the table.

  We were standing close enough that I could smell his unwashed odor. I clinked cups with him, drained my shot, and sat back on the couch. He stayed on his feet and drank his slow.

  I needed another second. So I decided to ask a question about something I was curious about.

  “Before I tell you my plan, can I ask you something? Why would you sleep with Betty and then not take care of it? You knew that Snyder’s people were having Rachel cover your debts. It was going to get back to her that you nailed another woman.”

  Jack rubbed his face, up and down. “That fucking Rachel. Goddamn!” He took one of the beer bottles off the coffee table and whizzed it at the wall. Broke into a thousand little pieces of green glass.

  “Knock it off! The last thing we need is any attention.”

  “I know. Sorry. I know!” He started to pace around the room. “Listen, I feel terrible that she’s dead. I do. But she made so many problems for me. She was supposed to be a groupie, but she acted like we were married ever since I first let her backstage. She was a lot of fun, but she wouldn’t take a hint. I tried blowing her off, and she would just get all psycho on me. I should’ve just sat her down and told her it was over, I know I should’ve. But I was scared that she would sabotage us somehow. We’re getting so close. She did a lot of our promotional stuff. She was actually a big help.

  “I was thinking that maybe I’d just wait it out, and then dump her when we got our record deal. You know, the typical rock star move. But then I got impatient. I figured that if she heard about me and Betty, it would break her heart and get her to kind of just fade away.”

  “But instead she OD’d.”

  “Yup.”

  “You can’t blame that on yourself. You didn’t kill her.”

  “Try telling Snyder that. Or her family.”

  “I don’t think that’ll work. That’s why I hatched this plan.”

  I laid it out for him. I wanted us to get in my car and leave, tonight. Now. Head down to North Carolina, where a friend of mine from college had some rental property. Stay out of sight for long enough that the pressure eases up on Snyder—maybe some people would credit him for the disappearance, but there wouldn’t be any evidence. Let the grief pass by and then, when Jack did come back, he just wouldn’t be a priority any more.

  Jack didn’t like it. I could tell right away. He lit a cigarette and shook his head. His hand was shaking, too.

  “My band is too close,” he said. “We’re about to make it. I can’t just run away now.”

  “What good is your band if you’re dead? I’m not kidding here. You wake up in Delaware tomorrow morning, it’s going to be the last morning you see. Because someone’s gonna come gunning for you. And if they do, believe me, I won’t give a shit. I’ll know I tried, I offered to put my life on hold, and you didn’t play ball. You got it?”

  We heard a series of knocks outside. It wasn’t at Jack’s door, though. Probably a couple doors down. Jack went to the eyehole, and I stood by the door. We heard a door open, and then a bunch of happy greetings.

&nbs
p; Jack took a few steps and then crumpled into his chair. “That’s the second time I almost had a heart attack today. Okay. Let’s do it. I want out.”

  I told him that he shouldn’t bring anything, just his wallet. He was fine with that, since all his good gear was up at the house in Wilmington. I also said no final phone calls or anything.

  “But I do think you should leave a note,” I added. “Leave it for your parents, just so they have something to hold onto when they don’t hear from you for a while.”

  “What am I supposed to say?”

  “I don’t know. ‘I love you and I will see you again someday.’ Just so they know you’re not dead.”

  He didn’t seem all that convinced, but he was scared enough to listen to me. He had a notebook for lyrics and stuff, and he ripped a page out and crouched down at the coffee table. I think that’s when the weight of what he was doing really hit him. He started to cry. It was embarrassing. But he managed to get the note written.

  “Why don’t you leave that necklace you’re wearing, too? It’s seems kind of distinct to me. One less thing that’s identifiable.”

  He fingered it for a moment, like he would miss it or something, and then he took it off and put it on the note.

  “So how are my parents going to get the note?”

  “When you turn up missing, the police will make their way here eventually. That’s when your parents will get it.”

  It was getting to him more and more. He went into the bathroom and threw up. I read the note—it was good—and turned the volume up on the boom box. And that’s when I sent a text message to Dick.

  I used the bathroom after Jack. “Ready?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said.

  I slid the chain off the door and opened it. Dick strode in with gloves on his hands and the noose all ready. I put on my gloves as well. Jack was barely able to get a sound out before the noose was around his neck. Jack struggled but it didn’t do any good. Dick was just too strong for him. When Jack lost consciousness, Dick dragged him to the bathroom. He tossed the rope over the bathroom door and then hoisted Jack up.

  “Hold the rope for a second,” Dick said.

  There was no time to hesitate. I grabbed the rope and pulled to keep Jack aloft. Dick tied the rope to the doorknob.

  I followed Dick back into the hallway. Jack’s face turned light blue, and his legs had these terrible spasms. Then he pissed himself and shit himself and it was over.

  The icing on the cake was this little plastic stool in the kitchen. Dick placed it on its side near the bathroom door to suggest that Jack had stood on it before stepping off.

  Then Dick went over to the coffee table and read the note. “Hey, this is great work, kid,” he said. “I mean it. I’m really proud of you. I think this is the beginning of big things for you with Mr. Snyder.”

  THE REPO GIRL

  BY PATRICK DERRICKSON

  Pina guided her compact, black ship under the larger yacht and, finding the metallic panel concealing the landing gear, attached with magnetic clamps. Her glowing computer display confirmed a solid connection. A quick security scan confirmed she had not been detected. Pina made a mental note to thank Martino again for updating her cloaking device. The upgrades from the tech wizard of her company were usually a couple of years ahead of the commercial tech available for nonmilitary ships.

  With a tap of her finger, the pilot’s seat contracted and slid under the console. This gave her petite, meter-and-a-half frame a little more room to shimmy into her spacesuit. Pina’s ship was usually used as local system racer. She had modified the Stiletto-class craft for getting in and out of tight spots. Pina owned The Lucy, paid in full from her five years of professional racing through the Alcon system. Missing the adrenaline rush of zipping through an asteroid course and dodging hurtling rocks of death, Pina pursued a different career that filled that need. And paid well. Very well.

  Pina strapped her carbon-ceramic knife to her leg, in the gap near her midthigh. Unless she was frisked or examined closely, the camouflaged weapon would not be seen. She had only needed to unsheathe it once before, when a drunken shipowner confronted her. He had been lucky that day, only losing a finger. Pina would have gutted him if the port security officers hadn’t arrived. When they attempted to arrest her for assault, she flashed her warrant and they backed off.

  No one messed with the Teras Bounty and Repo Company.

  When someone did try, it never ended well. A missing freighter filled with millions of credits worth of cargo would disappear without a trace. Or a tough-as-nails security chief, trying to gain support for a local office by investigating the business practices of Teras, died in a horrific accident. The long-term health and well-being of the people that opposed the Teras Company was historically quite short.

  Pina attached the small energy stun-gun to her hip. More a deterrent than an actual weapon, it was powerful enough to subdue anyone who resisted. She had drawn it on several occasions, but had yet to fire it. Not that she wouldn’t. Once her marks realized who pursued them, they knew to surrender. The gun’s best feature was that it could only be fired by her. Martino had programmed her biometric signature into the grip and trigger. Anyone else who tried to shoot the weapon would find it useless. And if someone other than Pina pulled the trigger two times in succession, the gun would discharge its energy with enough force to render the person unconscious.

  Pina pulled the diminutive helmet over her head, and heard the sigh of air as the helmet sealed itself to her suit. The cool wisps of oxygen tickled her face as her HUD, or Heads Up Display, activated. The Lucy’s 10,000-kilometer scan indicated no other ships nearby.

  Time to go to work.

  She slipped out of The Lucy and pushed off, floating across the two-meter gap between the two ships. Grabbing the underside of The Lady Jane, Pina pulled herself to the airlock, and typed in the override code she had received from the yacht’s manufacturer. The panel opened and she floated inside. The interior door slid open once the airlock had pressurized. The quiet hum of the environmental system greeted Pina, but she didn’t remove her helmet.

  She followed her HUD’s directions to the only other person on the ship, and found him unconscious on the galley’s table. Pina’s scan showed him alive, pumped full of Cota, a popular but expensive psychedelic drug. Damn. His enormous bulk covered most of the eight-person table, and easily weighed one hundred eighty kilos. She wouldn’t be able to lift him from the table and lock him in his cabin. She was strong for her size, but not that strong. An alarm pealed and the galley’s display screen turned red as the proximity alert warned of an incoming ship. Pina’s HUD lit up as her own ship’s alert flashed. The ship would intercept The Lady Jane within ten minutes. Right on time. She silenced the irritating tone. Pina’s hand reflexively went to her gun when the bloated man stirred, but relaxed when he did not waken. The man smacked his lips and saliva pooled under his reddened face. Pina shook her head in disgust. Stupid shit always happened when you lost control of yourself. She secured the man’s hands and feet to the table with carbon zip-ties, and disengaged her suit’s helmet.

  The reek of body odor stung her eyes. Pina coughed and backed away, waving her hands to dispel the stench. Holding her breath, she backed out of the galley. Users addicted to Cota suffered memory loss and often ended up dead. Thoughts of finding her brother, slumped in a closet, a few days after their parents had died, surfaced from the dark recesses of her mind. Pina suppressed them as quickly as she could; it was not the time to think about other people’s decisions. She needed to focus.

  As she made her way to the bridge, she admired the sleek, modern layout and real wood textures of the ship. The designer of The Lady Jane’s interior was a true artist. She settled into the luxuriously padded pilot’s chair, feeling the cushion alter its form to match her body type. Pina smiled. It would be a fun ride home. Her fingers flew over the console as she prepped the ship for the return journey. The navigation system was state-of-the-art.
Pina scrolled through hundreds of star maps. An elaborate map of her home system popped up on-screen. Each port and planet was exquisitely detailed, and the search function allowed her to find a specific good or service on any planet. This navigation feature itself cost more than her fee for completing this mission.

  An emergency signal from the other ship blared around the roomy bridge. The Rock Smasher had activated its distress beacon. Interstellar law was clear: If a ship activated its emergency protocols, and you were in proximity to offer assistance, you were required to render whatever aid you could. Failure to do so would trigger criminal charges. On several occasions, captains of merchant ships ignored those beacons and, when people died because of their inaction, were charged and convicted of murder. Pina wouldn’t ignore this emergency beacon. She was a responsible employee of the Teras Bounty and Repo Company, after all.

  “Rock Smasher, this is The Lady Jane. I’ve received your distress signal. Do you require assistance?” Pina said.

  “Oh, thank the gods. I thought I was going to die out here. Must be my lucky day,” a man’s voice replied.

  Pina snorted. Lucky was not a word she would have used in this situation.

  “What can I do for ya?”

  “I have a hull breach. Flew too close the asteroid I was mining and hit the damned thing. Put a hole in the side right near the bridge.”

  A quick scan confirmed the breach, as well as the minerals in his hold. Only a third filled. Just enough to led credence to his story.

  “You in a suit?”

  “Yep, I always leave it on when mining. Never know. Glad I did, too, the way that rock gutted my ship.”

  “Long way from a refinery rig. You a freelancer?”

  “Yeah. That a problem?”

  Freelancers didn’t belong to a mining company or guild. They gave up the security of controlled mining operations for the thrill of hitting it big on a random rock in a system. Some were successful, selling rare minerals for a huge profit. Neither group liked each other, but it generally wasn’t a problem until someone decided to mine in the same area, or on the same rock. When that happened, the local security force was called in to either stop a fight, or clean up the remains of the loser.