“Keep me out of your plans from here on out, Hunter. I see you again, you won’t live to regret it.”
“Threats. Consider me duly intimidated.” Hunter turned toward the city lights. “We’re going to need each other before the end, Mick. You’ll realize that before long.”
My fists clenched when I turned and walked away, leaving Hunter to his empty suite and his magnificent view.
Chapter 22: Laying Low
Lambrou’s Diner. Breakfast was cured bacon, two eggs, grilled Halloumi cheese with sautéed mushrooms and char-grilled tomatoes with whole grain sourdough toast. I sipped a mug of steaming java and watched the sun glimmer from between the nearby buildings. Poddar sat beside me at the table, his arm wound in a sling from the slug he took the previous night. Benny sat opposite, every movement ginger because of the still-tender stitches in his side. Neither of us said much. We basked in the simple relief of the mess being over. I was a sleep-deprived, bullet-ridden wreck of a human being by that point, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I kept replaying the conversations in my head, over and over…
A man of your skills is wasted playing Russian roulette in this Haven. You must be tired of gambling with your life, hoping you don’t roll a snake eyes.
You cannot change who you are, Mick…You’re a killer of bad men. And as long as bad men need killing, you’ll never be able to settle down.
What a blissful quandary for you. Without your memories you can go on pretending to be this charming scoundrel of a man, putting your life on the line to help other people. What would those same people think of you if they knew how many people you’ve tortured and murdered?
You know how things work. How to be cold and mean as the people you take down. It’s how you survive. It’s who you are. And I can’t get in the way of that.
You go on these rampages after people are killed, become this righteous warrior. But it’s not because you care about them. It’s because that’s the only way you can create a facsimile of self-worth.
Benny looked at me, chewing like there was no tomorrow. “You all right, Mick?”
I cracked a wry grin. “Never been better, champ.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Never mind me. How are you doing?”
“Not too bad.” He hesitantly touched his side. “Getting stabbed wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Barely feel it.”
“Fantastic, kid. Like I said–we’ll make a bruiser outta you yet.”
“Yeah, about that.” He wiped his mouth with a thick white napkin. “I think I’m gonna get out the business, Mick.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Really? What’s your uncle think about that?”
“Haven’t told him yet. But my mind’s made up. I wanna do something else.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno.” His massive shoulders shrugged. “Just something else. I used to think I’d be letting everyone down if I didn’t fall in and do what they wanted. I don’t think so anymore. I think every person has to choose for themselves. So I’m choosing to get out.”
I raised my mug in salute. “Wish you the best, Benny.”
He grinned as he stood up. “Well, I’m not gonna stall. I’m gonna have that talk with my uncle now. Hopefully he won’t fit me for a New Haven trench coat afterward.”
“I doubt that, kid. I think Flacco respects a man with respect for himself.”
“Yeah?” Benny stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Mick. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
I shook his beefy mitt. “Sure, kid. Anytime you wanna get dropped from the skylanes or stabbed in the stomach, look me up.”
He laughed as he pulled on his jacket. “Gonna miss hanging out with you, Mick.”
“Me too, kid.”
He waved on his way out.
Poddar appeared thoughtful as he stared at the exit. “Did he just leave without paying?”
“He’s Mafioso, Poddar. They got fringe benefits.”
“That’s no excuse for–”
“Let it go, Pod. I got the tab. How’s the arm?”
He glanced down. “Not bad. Stings a little.”
“Sorry about that. Appreciate the backup, though.”
“We’re partners. Despite you dumping me for the mobster.”
“I didn’t dump you, Poddar. Geez, keep the bromance alive, willya? You didn’t want any of this anyway. Benny’s got the girth to brush off a stomach stab. The same thing might’ve killed you.”
His smile was sly as he sipped chai tea from a tiny mug. “I didn’t know you cared, Mick.”
I threw up my hands. “Oh for crying out loud–”
He pushed back his plate and gave me a critical glance. “How are you, by the way?”
“A walking wad of pain, Poddar. But I’ll get better.”
His dark eyes were solemn. “I’m not talking about your wounds. I’m asking how you are.”
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I don’t know, Poddar. I’ve never been a good judge of how I’m doing.”
“You should learn. A man who does not know himself knows little else.”
I stared at the table. “Do you think a person can change, Poddar? You know–become a different man? A better man?”
His brows furrowed as he poured more tea into his mug. “Ms. Kilby told you a story once. About some children stolen from my village by pillaging slavers.”
“Yeah. She told me. Said you got the name ‘Prince’ by the folks there because you chased down the slavers and brought the kids home.”
“That’s right.” His expression darkened. “I killed every one of those men, Mick.”
“You did what you had to do.”
“I did what I wanted to do.” Tea spattered on the table. He set the mug down with trembling fingers. “I still see their faces at night sometimes.”
I took a bite of egg and toast. “That was a long time ago. And I bet the children you rescued weren’t crying about it.”
His smile was bitter. “Most of those children are probably dead by now. It was a very poor place, and you know what poverty does to people. I couldn’t deal with what I did, so I ended up leaving. I thought I could leave that whole life behind me. I met Ms. Kilby and worked for her. I went to new places and saw new things. I thought things were better. Then we came here. Then she went missing.”
I saw where the conversation was headed. “So you did what you had to again.”
He was quiet for a long moment before he picked up his mug again and sipped. “I don’t know if we can change who we are, Mick. I just know I have to try.”
“Amen to that, brother.”
“You see Natasha yet?”
“No.”
“You can’t avoid her forever, Mick.”
“I checked on her. Dropped by to have Whiz collect my stuff and put in in holding until I found a new pad. He told me Natasha was holding a meet and greet for the folks at her complex. She’s widening out, trying to get to know people. I thought it was a good idea.”
Poddar tilted his head. “Yes, but did you talk to her?”
I sighed. “I saw her. She was in the ballroom getting things set up. She looked…happy. Haven’t seen that look in a long time.”
“Then you left before she spotted you.”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you want, Mick. But you can’t have it both ways.”
“It’s all right. She knows what she wants. That’s more important than little ol’ me.”
A very familiar voice spoke beside me. “More coffee, Mr. Trubble?”
I glanced up. There she was, perfectly attired as a waitress. Her soft curls were pulled back in a bun and a knowing smile curved her lips.
“Ms. Sinn. I thought you might show up.”
“You thought correctly.” She expertly filled my mug up from the pot in her hand.
Poddar rolled his eyes. “Sounds like my cue.”
“Don’t sweat it, Poddar. Stick around.”
&
nbsp; “It’s no problem. I have to meet Ms. Kilby. And I know trouble when I see it.” He politely smiled at Sinn, who returned the favor. Pulling on his jacket, he paused. “You’ll be at the office, right?”
I shook my head as I poured sugar into my mug. “Not for a minute, anyhow. Gonna take a wise man’s advice and lay low for a while.”
Poddar failed at hiding his amusement. “That’s the most absurd statement you’ve ever made since I met you. I’ll see you soon, Mick.”
Sinn slid into a seat opposite me as Poddar made his exit. She looked me over with concerned eyes. “You look like you can barely stand, Mick.”
“I keep hearing that. Better than dead, I guess.”
“That’s the optimist in you, Mick. Nothing ever gets you down, does it?”
I shook my head with a sigh. “If only that were true, Ms. Sinn. Everything gets me down. Everything about this rotten little situation has me down.”
“I’m sorry, Mick.” Dressed in her waitress garb and with the sun shining on her almond complexion, Sinn looked younger all of a sudden. The morning rays cast light across her eyes, turning them the color of aged brandy.
“I’d probably be dead in a ditch if you weren’t there to help me out.” I took a stab at my eggs, but my appetite had fled. “I know you didn’t do it for nothing, so you might as well tell me what I owe you.”
“Where is the god lode, Mick?” Seeing my hesitation, she gave me a reassuring smile. “I took the liberty of blocking out surveillance for our conversation. No one is listening.”
I leaned back in my chair and tapped the edge of the plate with my fork. “Straight to business, is it? All right–say I do have this ‘god lode’. What of it?”
“When I scanned your holoband I noticed a small compartment drive installed. Do you have it hidden in there?”
I resisted the urge to look at my wrist. “Maybe.”
A pleased smile lit up her face. “That’s all I want to know.”
My fork rattled as it fell from my hand. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Dr. Faraday was an important member of the organization I am employed by. To say his work was groundbreaking is saying water is wet. You’ve experienced some of it yourself. So has your synoid friend.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“He’s tied to you with strings you cannot even begin to comprehend. That’s a concern for another day. For now it’s enough to know Dr. Faraday’s death was not completely in vain. We feared the god lode was destroyed in your encounter with the New Man, so it’s a tremendous relief to know that’s not the case. Faraday lives on in a way, and his work is safe and sound.”
“With me.”
“With you. You may not see yourself in such a light, but you are a very formidable man, Mick. I trust you will keep the god lode safe until the time when it is needed.”
“Why not now? I might not be in such an agreeable mood the next time.”
“The numbers say otherwise.” She stood and picked up her coffee pot. “Enjoy your coffee.”
“Wait.”
She paused.
“What is this thing? Why call it the god lode?”
Her gaze turned ethereal, as if she stared beyond me into a realm undecipherable by human eyes. “It’s what gods are made of, Mick. Keep it safe.”
“Where will you be?”
“Away. Events are in motion that need my attention elsewhere. If you need technical support, call on Lord Troll. He’s had a severe change of heart and will be more than willing to lend you a hand.”
“I won’t need him. I’m laying low for a while.”
Amusement touched her lips. “I won’t bother quoting the numbers on that one, Mick.” She turned and drifted to the next table, where she aroused laughter from the two little old ladies sitting there. For all intents and purposes, she was the world’s most attentive waitress. I had to smile as I picked at my food.
When I looked up, she was gone.
I slid into Maxine’s cushioned interior. Ran my fingers across the dash and patted the steering wheel. Leaned back and tilted my Bogart over my eyes as the seat adjusted for my optimal comfort.
“Take me home, Maxine.”
“Setting a route for the Luzzatti.”
I grimaced. “Nix that, Maxine.” I massaged between my eyes as the realization sank in. Natasha was at the Luzzatti. I couldn’t see her. Not in the condition I was in. She’d open her pity box and try to take care of me like she always did. I couldn’t ruin her attempt at a new life. She was free of me, free of the tangled strings of regret I inadvertently tied around her. I couldn’t go home anymore.
I thought about my conversation with Fats the Jazz Man. How he was looking for a partner with managing the Gaiden. How maybe I needed to take some time off and keep my name off the wire. There were worse places to end up, especially in the state of mind I was in.
“Head for the Gaiden.”
“As you wish, Mr. Trubble.”
Steam billowed from manholes in the streets, whipping by the ride like shapeless specters. I let the auto-drive system do its thing while I laid back and visited with ghosts of my own. Sophia ‘Scarlett’ Flacco. I saw her face again on a woman walking the crosswalk. She gazed at me with a blend of pain and scorn in her eyes before becoming a stranger I’d never seen before. And Desiree. I never even knew her last name. But I remembered her face. I’ll always remember her luminous face and her heartbroken gaze. Her image slid across the window, haunting me with silent accusation.
Another face sprang unsummoned from the depths. A young face, full of promise and charm. Her dark hair was cut short, adorned by a silver sequin and feathered headband. Her eyes shone with hesitant attraction when she gazed at me across the valley of time and space. I knew her once. Her name will always stay with me.
Maxine…
I remembered her. I remembered the pigeon-toed way she walked, the mischievous dash of freckles across her nose. I remembered the way she’d laugh when I said something that inadvertently amused her. I remembered sunlit days lounging in the park and rainy days indoors lying with my head in her lap and her fingers in my hair. I remembered her voice, the hesitancy when she gazed into my eyes and asked a simple question.
Do you think it will always be like this?
The windows glistened, erasing the lingering faces and leaving me alone with my misery. Everything blurred as beads of rain washed away the visages of bygone times until nothing was left except the sudden realization it wasn’t raining after all.
Just tears that slid down my face.
End
Enjoy the Troubleshooter?
Thanks for checking out this installment of the Troubleshooter series. I truly hope you enjoyed your time in New Haven. I’d love to keep writing these novels, but I need just a little help from you. Reviews help a great deal in spreading the word, which in turn helps sell more books. Which in turn allows me to keep writing. It doesn’t have to a long process: a simple 3-4 sentence review works wonders. Thanks again for reading, hope you stick around for the next installment.
All the best,
~BC
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About the Author
Bard Constantine firmly believes he’s living in the wrong age, so he creates timelines he feels more comfortable in. With this series he introduces Havenworld, a retro-futuristic dystopian age where humanity survived a terrifying Cataclysm by means of city-sized constructs called Havens. More info on this world and upcoming novels can be found on his website: bardwritesbooks.com as well as his Facebook page. You can also keep up with him on Twitter @BardConstantine.
What to Read Next?
Bard Writes Books. If you’re into gritty futures and far-flung fantasy, check out his Amazon author page for everything he’s published. Here are a few samples.
Franklin is a man haunted by visions of a family he can’t remember and the growing awareness his world is a fabrication by oppressors who control every aspect of his existence.
After being contacted by the mysterious Coalition, Francis is reluctantly persuaded to find the answers that elude him. His pursuit of truth puts him in a duel of wills against the Sovereign, the oppressive empire that uses the machine of propaganda combined with the brutal terror of their Dogmen to smother any spark of rebellion. With time running out and his life at risk, Franklin must choose between defiance or submission; a decision that will either further imprison him… or shatter an Empire forever.
Purchase here.
In a world where history has become myth, legend returns in sinister fashion. When a malevolent race of powerful beings reveals their existence, humanity must suffer the consequences.
An immortal lord risks everything to cure his people of their terrible curse, yet the cost may be that of his very soul. A newly anointed seeress discovers an artifact that may hold the key to an ages-old conflict, but her discovery may be her destruction. And a fallen knight pursues a path of vengeance, despite repercussions that threaten to consume all he has suffered for.
Their lives will intersect with others: men who shift their shape with a thought, an ambitious and brutal warlord fixated on conquest, a cunning agent with duplicitous loyalties, a crimson-eyed mistress whose name means Death, and a band of skilled fighters who dare to hunt the immortal. The resulting maneuvers for position and power will sweep the entire kingdom into a war where no outcome is predictable, and even the best intentions can go horribly awry.
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 23
