Dark Crypto (Thorne Inc. Book 1)

by Neil Mosspark

  There was a long pause. Olivia pushed her remaining noodles around in her bowl. “How is he?”

  “Still tough as nails. The years haven’t softened that guy.”

  “Maybe one of these days I’ll make peace with him.”

  “You should. He misses you. You were one of his favorites.”

  Olivia smiled. “You think he would talk to me?”

  “Time fixes a lot, Olivia. Heals things and stuff.”

  “This was a pretty bad thing. I made a mistake, chose the wrong side. It was fifty-fifty. At the time Anvil seemed like the best way to get paid the most.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  “Not well. Still costing me. Even after so many years, they are still churning up problems.”

  “Only for you.” Jay laughed. The switch from somber to jovial was almost unsettling.

  She smiled again. “Yeah. Your only problems are a fat wife and three kids.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, ‘fat wife, happy life.'”

  “I’m not sure that’s what people say.” Olivia laughed.

  The conversation meandered as they finished the noodles. Eventually, the heaping bowls of noodles were empty, and with nothing left to bind them together, they parted ways.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia made good time on her way back to the office. The midday sun had warmed the air enough that she ditched her jacket and stuffed the holster, complete with pistol, inside the zippered liner. With only a t-shirt on, she let the warm rays bathe her skin. The possibility of an early spring tan seemed almost tangible.

  Pulling open the lobby doors to her office building, she walked through the dim foyer and pushed the “up” button at the elevator. Dismayed, she realized that she had not called the client. It had been two days since he stopped into her office. At least now she had something to tell him. Olivia plucked her phone from her pocket and began flipping through the numbers she had entered.

  The elevator descended, rumbling quietly, and its aging steel doors creaked open. Olivia stepped inside, pausing her search only to send the elevator to the second floor. Once the doors closed, she returned to her phone, leaning against the back wall.

  Olivia was sure she had entered it into her phone. With each flick of her finger, she scrolled through the contacts. The prospect of losing a client’s contact number left her with a twist in her stomach. Not being paid for two day’s worth of work only made it all the worse.

  The doors slid open, and she stepped onto her floor, pocketing the phone. Dana would have the number somewhere. It was likely still in her drawer.

  Pushing open the office door, Olivia could smell the mix of Dana’s sweet perfume alongside blood and sweat. Olivia’s stomach tightened in a knot as three tattooed men turned to look at her. A large man wearing a rubber apron and a skull-patterned mask stared intently at her. Dana, tied to her office chair, lifted a bloodied face and opened up a swollen eye. Crimson dripped from a split lip. Her torn dress was spattered with her own blood.

  Plastic had been rolled out onto the floor to catch the evidence and likely to carry away a body ... or two.

  Her own feet crinkled the thick material.

  Olivia’s hand instinctively clutched for the holstered pistol under her left arm but grasped only at air. Her lungs hitched as she realized her fatal mistake. The weapon was zipped up in her jacket liner. She could feel the weight dangling from her left hand.

  The frosted glass door behind her clicked shut, pulled closed by spring hinges.

  A muscular man covered in a black rubber apron turned to face her. Blood dripped from his black leather gloves. She could see Dana's blood on the white skull print of the mask that wrapped around the lower half of his face. The macabre effect was disturbing.

  “Olivia Thorne?"

  "Who wants to know?" She scanned for weapons. There weren't any guns that she could see, but it didn't mean they didn't have any.

  The men began to flank her. "I think you have some information for us.”

  “And you are?” She stepped backward and felt her foot touch the closed door.

  The man to her left spoke and shifted his weight. “We are looking for your client. We want his name."

  "Where is he?” the apron asked.

  “Who are you?”

  The man to her right took another step toward her. “This can be very easy for you, or very difficult.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  The man to her right continued slowly closing the gap.

  “How do you contact him?”

  Olivia shifted her weight back. “He contacts me.” She lied. If they got her phone or the business card in her wallet, they would know she had lied to them.

  The aproned man tugged at his gloves. “I think you're a liar.”

  Olivia let the weight of the jacket slide through her fingers until it hung by the collar in her hand. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Neither do we. Tell us the name of your client, and where he is, and we will leave. You have my word.”

  She continued talking, realizing that talking was buying her time to think. “Is this about the thing I found attached to a little girl we extracted?”

  The man to Olivia’s right paused and kept his distance. She could smell his body odor.

  “Where is he?”

  Olivia realized that none of the other two were wearing balaclavas; they weren’t expecting to leave any witnesses. She was as good as dead the moment she said anything.

  “Why did the Yakuza have it?” she pressed.

  “Who is your client?”

  “Tell me why the Yakuza had the box, and I will tell you where my client is.” Olivia controlled her breathing, focusing on the man’s answer.

  “He stole something from us. We just want it back. That’s all.” The man was telling the truth.

  “Will you kill me if I tell you where he is?” Olivia asked.

  “No. We just want some information so that we can leave. That’s all.” The man smiled under the mask, raising his bloody hands. “I promise.”

  She could see that it was a lie, even without her talent.

  Olivia’s muscular arm swung the weight of the holstered pistol in the jacket. The two and a half pounds swung like a hammer, cracking the nose of the man to her right. Spinning, she ducked as a heavy fist swung over her head. The large man to her left had planned on knocking her out cold, and the incoming swing was wildly overpowered. It passed over her head as she coiled to the balls of her feet in a sprinter’s stance. Swinging the jacket again, she threw it at the skull-faced butcher, covering his face.

  She exploded past the off-kilter brute and dove toward her office. The momentum of the spring bounced her off the frame. She kept her balance enough to make it through the door before throwing herself onto the floor behind her desk. Dropping to her side, she looked under her desk. Fingers scratched the underside for the hidden revolver.

  Through the space under the desk, she could see black boots making their way to the doorway. The quick evasion had only startled them for a moment.

  Olivia’s thin fingers plucked heavy cold steel out of the nylon holster nailed in place under the desk. Wrapping her hand around the handle, she pointed the heavy caliber through the wood at the pair of legs. The man bent down to grab her foot and pull her out.

  She pulled the trigger twice. The deafening explosion tore two holes in her desk, but the lead pushed through the oak and into the man's face. Even before the man tottered and fell to the ground, she pulled herself to the opposite side of the desk. The other two had begun to draw the weapons tucked into the back of their waistbands.

  She fired again, now with a clear line of sight on the butcher. The revolver bucked, and the bullet passed through the open door then through the man’s brain case, ejecting the contents onto the far wall. Adjusting her aim, she lowered the pistol and fired three rounds through the wall where she suspected the other man had been standing. The thump
of another body hitting the floor signaled the man’s end.

  Doing the mental math, she realized she had no bullets left in the revolver now, and it would take time to reload from a locked gun cabinet. She had the advantage and risked pressing it. As she stepped from behind the safety of the desk, she leveled the empty weapon confidently before shuffling forward, carefully checking for other attackers.

  Stepping over the dead man lying in her office door, she bounded forward into the foyer. The butcher was obviously dead, and the boxer who had tried to take a swing at her was lying on the floor amid a growing pool of his own blood. Olivia kicked a nearby handgun away. The metal rumbled across the wooden floor until it clattered against the far wall.

  The bleeding man's chest rose and fell rapidly as he attempted to seal the spurting wound. The thick-fingered hand that attempted to stem the flow had a distinct anvil tattooed on it. This one was encircled by a thick black line.

  Black Anvil was upping their branding game.

  Picking up her jacket, she calmly retrieved the full pistol from the holster and stood over the man, considering the choice between trying to stop the flow of arterial blood and putting a round in the braincase of a man who tried to kill her and her secretary.

  She continued to decide as his face slowly paled.

  A noise behind her snapped her to the present moment.

  Dana was still tied to the chair, now crying in the release of tension.

  Olivia tucked her pistol into her waist band and rushed to her secretary, pulling at the ropes.

  “It’s going to be okay. I got you.”

  The woman was sobbing, and as soon as her arms were free, she leaned on Olivia, holding tight. Olivia matched the desperate clinging sensation to that of the little girl she had found in the hole. The same clutching desperate grasp to hold on to something safe enveloped her.

  “I’ve got you.”

  Dana’s heaving sobs stopped for a moment. “I quit.”

  IT TOOK TWENTY MINUTES for the police to arrive and another five for the ambulance to cart Dana away. Only after Olivia had given her initial statement to a less than interested uniformed cop did Gabe arrive.

  She sat on the couch in her office as the cop wrapped up his questions and left. Slowly the police filtered out, leaving her and Gabe alone. Olivia leaned back on the worn leather couch and sighed.

  Gabe stood by the desk, looking at splintered wood. “How many people have you killed in the last week?”

  Olivia avoided eye contact. Her headache was back with a vengeance.

  Gabe continued despite her silence. “Back in the day we would have hauled you downtown, interrogated you, likely charged you for murder, and then held you until trial.”

  “They were working over Dana and would have killed me. It was self-defence.”

  "What did they want?"

  "Probably something to do with the last case maybe." Olivia had told the previous officer that she had startled them. She had left out the details regarding the thugs asking specifically about her client.

  Gabe scratched at the stubble growing under his chin. “If I retire, I’m not going to keep your fat out of the fire. You’ll have to deal with other people who are less interested in helping. More interested in climbing the ladder.”

  “Please. Spare me.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “This would have been a cut-and-dry date in court.”

  “Sure, but you would have had to go. It’s not as simple as saving the girl, shoot the bad guys.”

  “It is that simple.”

  “Well, it looks like you’re up to your neck in it now.” Gabe pulled out a notebook and a pen.

  “Yeah. They were all Black Anvil. This isn't good.”

  He paused for a moment before writing things down. “Anyone you know? Names would be helpful.”

  “Nope. Don’t recognize any of them.”

  “The guys said that none of them had that tattoo you have. Really think they are these anvil characters? Not just some copycats trying to use someone else's name?”

  “Almost positive.”

  Gabe penciled down some thoughts. “Well, if I were a friend I would tell you to get out of town for a while ... but I’m also a cop, so I’m legally bound to tell you that you need to stay in the area in case we have more questions.”

  “You still a friend, though?”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah.” He laughed softly. “And it looks like you need some right now. Might want to call someone and stay at their place for a few nights just to be safe.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Your couch available?”

  “Nope. Full up these days. Plus, I don’t want the walls aerated by bullet holes. My benevolence only goes so far.”

  “I can see that. Thanks for nothing.”

  “Sure thing.” With that, he snapped the notebook closed and tucked it in his pocket. “By the way, what are you going to do now?”

  Olivia paused. “Call a friend.”

  Chapter 7

  Olivia locked the front door of the office and paused for a moment in the calm of the hallway. The police had dissipated after taking pictures, and the coroner had removed the bodies. The plastic tarp covering the floor had been thrown into the dumpster, but the floor was still covered with spatters of Dana's blood, and the walls had been repainted with the mercs’.

  Inside, she had felt overwhelmed by the dried carnage. Mostly she didn’t want to have to deal with the smell of blood while she was on the phone. The plain white business card of her current contract was pinched between her thumb and forefinger as she tried to decide what to say.

  With her other hand, she keyed the sequence in and waited. It only took two rings before her client picked up.

  “Hello?” came the familiar monotone.

  “Mr. Grey. I wanted to give you an update about your case.”

  “We were expecting your call two days ago.” The statement stung almost as much as the bruised eye did when Olivia winced.

  “There were ... complications with the investigation. I had some difficulty getting to a phone.” Olivia thought about how much joy it had been to wake up in a jail cell after being tasered.

  “We are interested in any information you may have collected.”

  “Well, so far it turns out that the girls were likely first abducted by a Mr. Kimura. He’s ex-Yakuza. I believe he’s no longer affiliated with the mob, so they are not behind the kidnapping. Complicating this is that a group of mercs known as the Black Anvil are involved somehow. They may have subcontracted Mr. Kimura to kidnap the girls, and Mr. Kimura, in turn, hired the local gangs as protection.”

  “By definition, mercenaries are hired by someone and do not work of their own accord. We need to know who controls this ‘Black Anvil’ group.”

  “I’ll do a bit more digging, but I think it's important to tell you that these guys roughed up my secretary pretty bad and tried to kill me.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Olivia continued, “They were asking about my client. That would be you, Mr. Grey. They said you had taken something of theirs. Know anything about that?”

  Mr. Grey continued his silence.

  “These guys are hard hitters, and I had a few of them digging around my office for your contact info. I haven’t found out who hired them as of yet, since most of my leads have dried up.” Olivia’s shoulders sank after realizing that she had told the client she was at a dead end.

  “Did you find out who did the surgery on the girl?”

  Olivia paused, wondering how much to convey. “I don’t know. Someone other than Kimura or Anvil did the operation on her, but aside from that I’m at a bit of a loss.”

  “Perhaps someone at the Neotech corporation may have more answers for you.”

  “What?”

  “We have been informed that Neotech collected the box after they assisted with the removal at the hospital. It is currently in their possession. They were called in by the hospital to safely remove the device from the gir
l when it was determined that components of it are from the Quarantine Zone.”

  Olivia mashed her palm silently against her forehead. She hadn’t considered following up with who had the box, and it was starting to look like Mr. Grey was better at her job than she was. “I’ll see if they’ll have a chat with me.”

  “Miss Thorne, there is a bonus if you can confirm what the box is intended for. We have our suspicions but are unable to verify them.”

  Olivia lowered the palm from her face wondering if she heard him correctly about the bonus. “I’ll keep that on my list of things to check up on. Any more insight that you can give? Maybe about your history involving why Black Anvil wants to talk to you? And by talk I mean kill?”

  “None at this time.” The line went dead as she was hung up on.

  “Well you’re a peach!” she snarled, shoving the phone into her jacket pocket.

  She paused for a moment and dug it back out again. Considering that she had killed a total of three mercs, one assassin and a handful of gang members, she was almost out of leads. Barring returning to interrogate the defamed Yakuza again, she only had the new information provided by Mr. Grey.

  Pulling up the map on her phone, she searched for Neotech's address. She would have to pay a visit. Random phone calls asking to talk to important people had never panned out in the past.

  While she waited for the info to load, her free hand blindly patted the wall. Fingers on her other hand blindly searched for the “down” button of the elevator. Olivia was engrossed with the screen. From what she could see, Neotech was located in one of the eight new mega block structures to the west of the quarantined zone.

  Each was the size of a city block and appeared like a standard square steel-and-glass structure. The difference was that they were designed to be atmospherically sealed off from the rest of the environment. They contained a private police force, a small governing body, and even their own hydroponics farms. The same technology used on the newly constructed Martian habitats was being used on a vastly larger scale here on Earth.