The safe house was an actual home, in one of the older stately neighborhoods that fringed the Transit district. The Queen-Anne styled houses had seen their heyday in the past, but the Transit expansion proved too noisy for the majority of the inhabitants. The locales fled, the property values dropped, and the neighborhood was mostly abandoned after several attempts at image reconstruction. But it was the perfect place to arrange for a pad to lay dormy.
Natalie’s floater hissed as it touched down in front of the entrance. A few seconds later her footsteps tapped up the concrete stairs. The front door squealed as it opened. Her hand drifted to the light switch, where it paused.
She sniffed the air.
I held a gasper between my fingers and exhaled a stream of smoke from where I sat in the shabby-chic styled living room. “Come in, Natalie. Make yourself at home.” I gestured with the Mean Ol’ Broad. “Don’t think about pulling that firearm. Unstrap the holster and drop it to the floor.”
She complied, keeping her eyes fixed on me. Her mouth was a firm line. I could tell she was concentrating. Trying to figure out the angles, the myriad of possible ways the encounter might end.
I gestured again. “Have a seat. Keep your hands on the table where I can see ‘em.”
She slowly approached and sat opposite me at the dining room table. I nodded to the glass in front of her. “Poured you a drink. Don’t worry, I didn’t bother to poison it.”
She hesitantly raised the glass and wet her lips. Her eyes widened slightly. “Silver Tree American vodka. Michael, did you–”
I raised the bottle. “Just used what I found on the shelf.” I poured myself a glass, keeping the Broad leveled at Natalie. “Who’s Maxine?”
A bitter smile touched her lips. “It always comes back to Maxine.”
“Who was she?”
She sipped her vodka, studying me over the rim of the glass. I tensed, my trigger finger quivering. But she didn’t throw the glass my direction as I figured. She set it down, tapping her fingernail against the rim.
“Maxine Dalton was the first informant you were assigned to. Pretty girl. Smart, but young. Naïve enough to fall for the dashing young artist you pretended to be. She was a spy, leaking sensitive information from her Haven to resistance leaders on the outside. You worked her long enough to discover her contacts, then get rid of her. The first part was no problem. The second part was where you failed. You apparently had a soft spot for the opposite sex.”
I tried to keep my voice emotionless. “What happened?”
“I happened.” She folded her hands together and leaned forward. “I was your superior, responsible for your actions. Your failure was my own, and I had to teach you a lesson. So after capturing Maxine, I called you in. You helped me tie her down. You watched what I did to her. How I cut her up while she screamed and begged for mercy while you did nothing. Then you killed her.”
Natalie picked up her glass and downed her drink. She licked her lips and smiled. “Lesson learned. You never had a problem cleaning up behind yourself after that.”
I shook my head. “How did we get like that, Natalie? Don’t you see how twisted all of this is? I mean, is there some damaged goods database the SS uses to find the most screwed-up people for agent training?”
She looked almost pityingly at me. “You buy wholesale into the bogeyman stories, don’t you? People who do nothing have the luxury to throw stones at those who protect them. You don’t know the savagery of the animals outside the Havens. They use the word ‘resistance’ to cover the most atrocious acts, while becoming folklore heroes to settlers who don’t know any better. But I know what they’re capable of firsthand.”
I studied her face. “They hurt you.”
She gave a dismissive shrug. “It was a long time ago. When I was weak. I was caught off guard on a routine training assignment. A band of the so-called resistance captured me and a few other students.” Her face contorted in rage. “And boy did they work us over. Male, female–it didn’t make a difference to them. They had their fun.” Her eyes glazed, staring into the beyond. “No one survived except for me. If you can call it survival.”
Her gaze focused, glaring as if daring me to sympathize. “I was found by a Haven patrol. They nursed me back to life. Trained me to channel my rage into something extraordinary. When I was ready, we pulled up the DNA samples they found in and on me when I was rescued. I was given absolute impunity to hunt those bastards down and make them suffer for what they did.”
“You killed them all.”
“Of course I did–when I was finished hurting them. Do you think you would have done anything else?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the truth hurt.
“You might not have, of course. You were always different. Most of the agents were bred to enter the Service. Reared in specialized camps.” She shrugged. “We were raised in a sterile community by synthetics. They educated us, trained us, and selected the best candidates for particular duties in the Havens. You were a different case. Troubled orphan. That’s why you never took completely to the program. You were corrupted by abandonment issues. In a way that made it easy to manipulate you. But in the end you were never satisfied with what your orders were. You wanted to know why.”
“And that’s where you came in.”
“That’s where I come in.” Her eyes practically steamed. “Come on, Michael. You know this isn’t what you want. I took care of you. I gave you guidance. I gave you someone to confide in. I gave you mental, emotional, and sexual stability. Don’t tell me you want to throw all that away for a trench coat and a fedora.”
“A flogger and a Bogart, you mean.” I tapped the brim of mine. “You think I want to head back to Psychoville with you and your SS pals so we can butcher some women and laugh over drinks? Think again, sweetheart. I got a new start in New Haven. I’m fine right where I am.”
“You’ll be dead right where you are. You should know how we operate. Newman’s mission failed, so they sent me. If I don’t bring you back, they’ll send someone else. Maybe the Wolf next time. This city will bleed, Michael. And it will lie on your head.”
“Why? What’s so important about one lousy agent?”
Her face practically seared with scorn. “You still think it’s all about you? You have no idea what the endgame is, do you? Think about it–you were sent here for a reason. You at least must have found out what that was.”
“To kill Dr. Faraday and recover his data.”
“Bingo. Faraday’s dead, but his data was never recovered. Tell me where the god lode is and I promise I’ll leave. I’ll tell them I killed you and no one will be the wiser. You can live your life in peace.” Her eyes turned pleading. “Just tell me where you hid the god lode.”
“Sorry.” I took a swallow of vodka. “Can’t help you. Don’t know nothing about this god lode. Wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So what is this, Mick? I know you’re not going to kill me. You’re reportedly still soft on killing women.”
“Ask the Red-Eyed Killer about that.”
Her smile was twisted. “Please. You told Newman that kill was set up by an auto-defense system hotwired to your car. You didn’t have to guts to do it yourself. And you don’t have the guts to do it now.”
I shrugged. “You got me. I’m not gonna kill you, Natalie. You’re damaged goods and a verified psycho, but we got history and I can’t just rub you out like it’s nothing.”
“So what are we doing here?”
“Stalling. You killed two women, Natalie. That’s something I can’t let you walk away from. I made a call before I got here. I’m afraid you gotta pay your debts, sister.”
“You called the police? That’s rich.” Her shoulders shook with mirth. “I’ll be out in the time it takes to show my badge.”
I paused with my glass upraised. “Who said anything about the brass?”
Her humor vanished. She looked at me with pensive eyes.
“You di
dn’t know? Sophia ‘Scarlet’ Flacco was the daughter of Moe Flacco–New Haven’s biggest Don. That’s who’s coming to pick you up, Natalie.” I turned at the sound of a vehicle outside. “In fact I think that might be them right–”
I knew it was a mistake right about when Natalie kicked the table, overturning it and sending me sprawling across the floor.
Chapter 20: Most Dangerous Dame
The Mean Ol’ Broad tumbled from my hand when I fell backward. My head rebounded off the floor, giving me double-vision long enough for a worm’s-eye view of Natalie’s feet sailing over the table. Both were planted in my chest, crushing the wind out of my lungs. As I writhed and gasped for air, she kept moving. Somersaulting off my body, she landed smoothly and snatched up the Mean Ol’ Broad. I thought she had forgotten about the bio-recog and would try to shoot me again.
Instead she whipped around and caught me square in the chin with the pistol grip. Stars exploded across my vision and the coppery taste of blood laced my tongue as my head snapped back. Natalie didn’t stop moving. She dropped the Broad and snapped off one of the table legs. Her eyes were wild when she hoisted it above her head.
“You had to go and ruin everything. You always were the weak link.”
The table leg blurred as she swung downward. There was a sharp crack as I blocked the blow with my arm. I couldn’t tell if it was the wood or my arm that splintered. From the agonizing jolt of pain that flared from wrist to elbow, I figured the latter.
She raised the leg again. “I told you I’d kill you before I ever let you walk away. You obviously don’t remember I always keep my word.”
I kicked the side of her knee before she swung. I couldn’t put much power into it while lying on my back, but it was enough to buckle her leg and stagger her. I leapt to my feet, trying to flank her long enough to make a grab for the Mean Ol’ Broad.
Natalie wasn’t having it. The table leg blurred in her hands when she charged with a snarl. I took a hard shot in the chest that nearly cracked my sternum, but I managed to latch on to the leg and rip it from her grasp. My bum arm prevented any counterattack and Natalie took full advantage, seizing me by the collar with an enraged scream. Her forehead battered my face, knocking me nearly senseless. My vision blurred as I groggily tried to shove her away. Her knee slamming into my groin put an end to that. I ate the carpeted floor with a groan, queasy from the explosion of pain in my guts.
Her hair flailed across her face. “I took you in, Michael. I protected you when everyone called you soft. I saw the potential in you and I knew you would come around in time. I made you one of the best, and this is how you repay me.” Each sentence was punctuated by a savage kick. I barely felt the impacts, still occupied with the earlier blow to the nether regions. Somehow I managed to catch her foot and shove. She stumbled back, tripped over the discarded table leg and fell.
The door banged open, admitting two swaggering Mafia boys in pinstriped suits and Trilby hats cocked on their heads. Both toted Thompson machine guns. The taller goon took in the scene with an exaggerated smirk.
“Looks like we got here just in time, Donny.” He sniggered. “Looks like Mick can’t handle his moll. Whaddya say, doll? You gonna be a good girl or do we hafta put a little lead in ya to get you to cooperate?”
His face crunched when struck by a flying table leg. His Thompson erupted as he fell, sending a blaze of bullets across the room. His partner Donny cursed and ducked for cover from the ricocheting slugs. I dropped to the floor as the hot lead whizzed dangerously over my head.
When I looked up, Donny gurgled in fear. Natalie had disarmed him, taken his Thompson and used it to strangle him from behind. His eyes widened for a second before she gave the weapon a savage twist. His neck crackled. Natalie let his limp body fall to the floor.
I dove for the Mean Ol’ Broad. The trail of gunfire that trailed me was faster. I felt fire flare in my shoulder and leg before the blaze of slugs stopped. My limbs refused to respond as the agony flared. I took a painful glance at Natalie. She yanked a spare drum magazine from Donny’s belt and reloaded her weapon.
Tires squealed outside, accompanied by the sound of yelling voices as the windows flooded with the glare of headlights. Natalie finished reloading and crouched by the window, peering from the cracks in the blinds.
“Looks like more of your friends. I’ll deal with you after I take care of them.” She sent an offhanded burst of gunfire my direction. The slugs missed, but tore apart the china cabinet behind me. The heavy frame groaned agonizingly as it buckled. I could only stare in disbelief as the plates and dishes upended on my head.
Followed by the entire cabinet.
Things got hazy at that point. I recall blacking out, but it must have been only for a few seconds. Lightning was the first thing to greet me when I came to. Paparazzi-style flashes filled the room, along with the nonstop rumble of heavy gunfire. Crippled by bullet wounds and half-buried in china, I could only turn my head.
It was perhaps the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
Natalie stood in the middle of the living room, toting a Thompson in either hand. They blazed as she unloaded on the Mafioso. Windows exploded in glittering shards, slugs whined across the room from their return fire. The walls were perforated with hundreds of holes that streamed light from the cars outside. Chunks of drywall and insulation drifted in the air. Natalie’s mouth was wide open in a furious roar, her face flushed, her eyes gleaming. Men screamed as they died in the streets outside. Seconds ticked by impossibly slow while Natalie fired as though she would never stop. She faced the impossible odds with an air of exhilaration, like she knew she couldn’t die.
My arm outstretched. My fingers snapped twice. The tiny Ruger hissed as it released from the automated sleeve holster to my open hand in less than a second. My thumb released the safety as I aimed and squeezed the trigger.
All I heard was thunder.
“He’s still alive.”
I groaned as arms dragged me from the rubble and set me to an upright position. My eyes slowly opened. I recognized No-Nose Nate immediately. His customary smirk was replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment. Probably at the fact I was still alive. I scanned the room. Suited Mafioso wandered the ruins of the living room, slightly dazed expressions on their faces. A massive hole still smoldered in the ceiling where I unloaded the Ruger’s explosive load, dumping everything upstairs on Natalie’s head.
Scars stood a few paces away, looking as skeletal and forbidding as ever. He gave the tiniest nod when his gaze met mine. Moe Flacco stood next to him, shaking his head as he stared at his new prisoner of war.
Natalie’s face was half-covered in blood from a scalp wound. Her combat suit protected her from damage that would have killed a normal person, but she still didn’t appear to be in the best of shape. She repeatedly blinked and tottered back and forth as if fighting the lure of unconsciousness. She had been raised to her knees with her hands cuffed behind her back.
“This is the person who killed ten of my soldatis? This…girl?”
Her bloody lips smiled. “This girl can do a lot more if you untie me. Go ahead–you’ll be amazed at how fast I can kill ten more of your useless outfit. Any rookie SS band would make mincemeat out of your whole crew in a few seconds.”
I could only shake my head in admiration. Her bold words weren’t just empty bravado–it was a reminder to Flacco, letting him know he wasn’t dealing with the average goon. If he made his move he might have to deal with the concentrated wrath of the Secret Service, the kind of heat no one in their right mind would want on their backs.
Except maybe Moe Flacco wasn’t in his right mind. His icy gaze betrayed no unease as he stared at her. “Sophia Flacco was my youngest child. You killed her.”
“That’s right.” Natalie spat a glob of blood on the floor. “I killed your precious daughter. I’ve killed daughters and sons and wives and husbands. So have you. What are you going to do–take me to some grindhouse and take your time with me?”
Moe held out an open hand. Scars stepped up and placed snub-nose magnum in it.
Moe checked the ammo clip. “We’re not comparing death notes. And I’m quite sure you hope I’ll try torturing you. That takes time. Time for someone to get sloppy, make a mistake. Give you the opportunity to use your deadly skills to escape. That’s not how this works. You should have done your research before you took my daughter’s life.” He snapped the cylinder back in place.
Natalie’s sneer spoke for her contempt. “You can’t kill me. I’m untouchable. You understand the principle. The payoff isn’t worth the consequences for you. Think about it, Flacco. This is bad business. You can benefit much more by securing my release. The Service will be in your debt.”
Moe didn’t say anything. He just stared her long enough for beads of sweat to slide down her face. Finally he leveled the handgun at her forehead. “Let me ask you a question, Ms. Secret Service. Right now, in this very moment–do you feel untouchable?”
Natalie glanced to where I sat against the splintered wall. Her demeanor was still calm, but the tension showed up in her voice. “Michael. Tell them this is a mistake.”
Moe’s eyes were cold enough to chill drinks with when he glanced my direction. “I let you clean up your mess last time, Mick. This is my mess. I’m cleaning it up this time.”
I lifted my arms to Flacco’s soldiers. “Give me a hand here, boys.”
She hissed my name. “Michael. Snap out of it. You can’t let this happen.”
It took every ounce of manhood I had to not scream in pain when they raised me up. I took a last look at Natalie. It was strange how I pitied her in that moment. After all she had done, after all I knew she was, I still didn’t want to see her die like that. But she dug that grave the moment she butchered Moe Flacco’s daughter. There was nothing I could do to change that.
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 21
