Fire

by Jim Heskett

  Tenney came to a halt a couple meters away. He noted the pistol sitting in a holster at Santiago’s hip. "What's going on?"

  "New operation. A big one.” The leader turned his steely gaze onto Tenney. “Do you think you’re up to this task?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In your short time here, I have to say, Tenney, I would give you a mixed progress report.”

  Tenney stood, stone-faced, his gaze unflinching. He knew he should say something to assuage Santiago’s concerns, but words of conviction wouldn’t come to him at the moment.

  “Nothing to say for yourself?”

  He had to remind himself of the important information he could glean from them. Tenney cleared his throat and forced his lips to move. “I want to be a member of the team. The last few days have been hard for me, for reasons I don’t want to explain.”

  Santiago sighed as the men worked together to push the heavy footlocker deeper into the back of the van. “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do.”

  “Well, lucky for you, we’re spread thin today, so we need you. Perhaps you can redeem yourself on this operation, so we won’t need a group discipline session. Now, get in the van."

  “Where are we going?”

  Santiago looked pleased with himself. “We’re going to hit them in the pleasure center."

  "Pleasure center?"

  The boss nodded. "Today, my brother, we are going to blow up a brothel frequented by some of the king's highest-ranking officials. This is an act of rebellion they won’t be able to ignore.”

  Tenney’s heart constricted. The footlocker did contain the remainder of the explosives, as he’d suspected. “The brothel near the capitol building?"

  "That's right. Zan’s. Do you know it?” Santiago spread a wry grin. “Have some gold stashed in a nearby abandoned building you need to recover first?”

  Tenney shook his head. “No. I only know of the name. I’ve never been inside.”

  That had to be the brothel where Yorick, Rosia, and Hamon worked. Some or all of them were either there right now, or they could be there soon. Plus innocents. Maybe dozens or even hundreds of them.

  Rosia had asked Tenney to keep an eye on the sun worshipers, but that probably did not include accompanying them on a mission to kill civilians needlessly.

  Santiago waved toward the van. “Time to get inside. No more discussion.”

  "No," Tenney said.

  Santiago's lips parted. "Excuse me?"

  Tenney came to a solid realization. This brothel bombing would happen. No amount of persuasion or complaining was going to stop it. Unless he did something drastic, dozens of people would die. Maybe even hundreds.

  “You get in the van right now,” Santiago said, “or we go in the basement, I let the group beat the mierda out of you, and then we all get in the van. Would you prefer that?”

  In a flash, Tenney snatched the pistol out of Santiago’s hip holster and placed the barrel against the boss’ forehead. He kept his body back, out of the range of Santiago's arms. Finger on the trigger.

  Tenney’s heart thumped against his chest so hard, he could barely hear the reactions from the sun worshippers. “Open the footlocker,” he said. By now, the others had noticed what was happening, and all raised their weapons.

  “Do it now, or he dies,” Tenney said.

  Santiago raised his hands and offered Tenney a pitying smile. “You have no idea what you’re doing. This is not going to end well for you.”

  “How many detonators do you have?”

  “Five.” Santiago flicked his head to one of the sun worshippers, who opened the footlocker. Tenney could see the gummy white material of the explosive, and five detonators sitting in a plastic container on top of them.

  “Take the detonators out and smash them,” Tenney said. “Do it.”

  Santiago sighed. “You’re going to die an incredibly painful death for this insubordination, and for what? To save the lives of some putas? Do you have a favorite down there? Someone you’ll miss?”

  “Do it now.”

  “Destroying these detonators is meaningless.”

  “Smash them,” Tenney said. “I’m not going to say it again.”

  “Go ahead,” Santiago said to his men, still looking at Tenney. “After we’ve flayed the skin off this traitor here, we can get more later today.”

  And Tenney knew he was right. Still, when the sun worshippers took the detonators out and crushed them under the heels of their boots, Tenney felt a little better.

  “You’re a dead man,” Santiago said.

  Tenney nodded. “I know. But so are you.”

  He pulled the trigger. The pistol roared in his hand, and the bullet blew out the back of Santiago’s head. For a split second, the half-dozen cultists standing around didn’t know what to do. Santiago staggered back before the life went out of his body and it collapsed to the ground.

  Tenney pivoted the weapon toward the gallery of stunned faces. He shot three of them before they could point their weapons at him. Two in the chest, one in the leg.

  He pivoted to shoot a fourth, but the pistol jammed. The man on the other end raised his gun and pressed the trigger. Tenney felt searing pain slice through his left arm, and the pistol jammed a second time.

  He spun on his heel and ran. His feet struck the pavement with everything he had in him. As soon as he turned and began his escape, he could hear the boots behind him. Lucky for him, they weren’t smart enough to know they could stand in place and shoot him. Or, they wanted him alive so they could torture him to death. That was more likely.

  As he ran, he could feel blood from the bullet wound in his arm whipping around, droplets dotting his face.

  In five more meters, Tenney reached the next building, and he cut right around the corner. This current street seemed mostly desolate. Dozens of points for him to choose to escape. He crossed the street and hopped a fence, and told himself he would not stop running until he no longer heard the boots behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Yorick’s fingers fiddled with the control chip in his pocket. Now reprogrammed, the thing could allegedly spread a virus throughout the entire royal network of plantacións and industrial communities and cities operated by loyal bosses, as long as he and Rosia could find the proper computer terminal. And, doing so inside the most dangerous building in the entire kingdom. No big deal.

  Not to mention the fact they didn’t know where to go once they’d made it past the first obstacle: lobby security. Maybe it would be as simple as seeing a list of the rooms on the floors above and finding one that contained the royal servers. Or, maybe that room would have additional safeguards for entry. A room as important as that would probably not be easy to find, right?

  Those were future problems.

  Yorick’s hand felt constricted inside his pocket because he was wearing his kitchen uniform from Zan’s brothel. He and Rosia had both dressed in their costumes, to play the part of new crew members hired to work on the king’s food staff. That claim wouldn't stand up to scrutiny, however, so that's where Tenney came in. Tenney would cause a distraction in the lobby of the capitol building, which would hopefully make the receptionist and security guards present pay less attention to Yorick and Rosia.

  But Tenney had not shown. Fifteen minutes past the two-hour timeline they’d given him this afternoon.

  Yorick and Rosia wandered around the outside of the capitol building. They didn't want to appear to be loitering, so they busied themselves by picking up stray bits of rubbish and depositing them in the garbage bins on the street corner. Public servants, hoping not to attract attention.

  "Where is he?" Rosia asked.

  Yorick didn't know what to say. This whole plan hinged on Tenney providing a distraction for them. Without him, even entering the building was too dangerous. "I don't know."

  "We can't stay out here forever. I think we need to abort.”


  He thought about the warning hacker Camila had given them this morning about the king doubling the size of his security team tomorrow. “We’re already so close. This only gets more difficult next time.”

  “We might not have a choice.”

  Yorick nodded as he studied the building. Then, he saw a curious thing. A man Yorick didn't recognize pulled out a set of keycards from his pocket. Each displaying the royal markings. When he entered the building, he ignored the receptionists and walked straight to an unmarked door in the back. He held that keycard against a panel next to the door and it open immediately for him. No one batted an eye at this man who didn’t follow the normal protocols to enter the building.

  Maybe that was the trick. Royal keycards.

  Did Diego have some of those?

  Before Yorick could talk to Rosia about it, a dozen soldados in formation marched around one side of the building. Yorick and Rosia put their heads down and pointed their bodies away from the soldados. Rosia led the charge, crossing the street. Seemed they would abort, after all.

  “Wait,” Yorick said.

  Rosia shook her head and did not answer his plea. She continued up the street, and Yorick took another look back at the building. Tall, dark, foreboding. And seemingly impregnable.

  He couldn’t help but feel like their best chance was now slipping away from them.

  Waiting out here for Tenney seemed pointless, though. Even though they might have to face twice as many building security after today, Rosia was right to walk away. Forcing this attempt might be a death sentence.

  Where was Tenney?

  When Tenney’s eyes opened, he was in total darkness. And stink. The smell of rotten food, soiled clothes, and other offenses to his nostrils.

  In a rush, it all came back to him. Escaping from the sun worshippers. A gun battle in the street. Evading all but one of them, then doubling back and launching himself into this dumpster behind a restaurant.

  Tenney pushed a hand up to raise the lid but had to stifle a scream when he experienced a stark reminder of the final detail he now remembered. The bullet in his arm. He used his other hand to lift the lid.

  When the late afternoon sunlight trickled in, he took a look at the injury. Blood caked along his shirt. The bullet appeared to have struck him in the fleshy part of his arm. At least, it hadn’t hit an artery. Tenney didn’t know for a fact, but he had to assume so since he had not bled out inside the dumpster. Either way, he couldn’t move the arm.

  He stood, wincing against the pain. This now made twice in two weeks he had taken a bullet. The one in his side still hurt. His smashed foot still hurt.

  Tenney didn’t so much mind the physical pain, though. He preferred that sort of pain.

  He eased himself out of the dumpster, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t growl against the agony. It pulsed up and down that side of his body, making him feel lightheaded and heavy at the same time.

  But, he had to keep calm and make no noise. No guarantee the sun worshippers weren’t still out looking for him. Still out there, looking to capture or kill him.

  He wouldn’t be welcome back with them, that was for sure.

  He limped out of the area and out from behind the restaurant. Pedestrians wandered up and down the sidewalks, and a line of cars cruised along the street. A few looks came his way, probably due to the visible dumpster muck clinging to his clothes.

  He wasn’t sure where he was, but he knew he was a little outside the central business district, and not too far from the sun worshipper base.

  And then, yet another piece of memory jumped up inside his head and demanded attention. The meeting at the capitol building. He checked the time listed on a clock above a bus stop and saw he was already an hour late. No way they would have waited for him this long.

  And, judging by the fact there didn’t seem to be pandemonium in the streets, he could assume they had not succeeded inside the capitol building.

  Tenney could only hope they hadn’t failed, either. The best option would be that they had called off the operation.

  He bit down on his lower lip until he felt the tang of blood in his mouth. Guilt throttled him. His friends had needed him, and he’d spent the last few hours unconscious in a dumpster.

  Maybe he could still find them. But, when he took a step, the pain in his arm throttled him. His eyes landed a few hundred meters to the south, toward a building with a large red plus sign on the side. Medical building. Even better, it appeared to be a clinic, rather than a full-scale hospital. A clinic might not keep records. They might not alert the soldados of his appearance there.

  He couldn’t do much good for Yorick and Rosia if he passed out from an untreated wound. Or if infection sent him into a delirious fever.

  Tenney did his best to cover the blood stain with his free hand as he hurried down the street. He earned a few odd looks from passersby, but no one said anything to him.

  Two minutes later, he entered the clinic, the doors whooshing open automatically to allow him in. Tenney was a little too overwhelmed with all the other things to feel impressed by the technology at the moment. The overhead lights sizzled his eyes, and the bleach smells infected his nostrils. Sensory overload weighed down on him, and he had to steady himself against a row of chairs in the waiting room.

  A woman in all-blue scrubs with dark skin and braids smiled at him, then her expression turned into a frown when she saw the blood running down his arm. She first emerged from behind a reception desk and then waved him forward as she lifted a small communication device and spoke into it.

  Alerting the clinic security? Tenney would find out soon, one way or the other. With his good hand supporting his weight against the chair, he didn’t know if he had the strength to run from them. And, maybe he didn’t care.

  No, he did. He had to get back to Yorick and Rosia. They needed his help.

  As the braided woman approached, she collected a nearby wheelchair and motioned for him to sit. Tenney slumped into it, grunting as his arm jiggled. He found himself out of breath, woozy, eyes wanting to shut.

  The woman bent over and flashed a light in each of his eyes. “Can you understand me right now?”

  Tenney nodded.

  “What’s your name, amigo1?”

  He hesitated. “Is it okay if I don’t tell you?”

  The woman slipped the small penlight back into her shirt pocket as her eyes flicked over Tenney. Sighing. After a pause, she nodded. “Don’t you worry about it. We’ll take care of you.”

  And, as he moved behind him to roll his wheelchair through a set of swinging double doors, Tenney knew he had no choice other than to trust this woman to do as she said she would.

  1 Amigo: friend

  Chapter Thirty

  Yorick loaded the dishes into the machine. As he looked up and across the kitchen, Rosia walked a path toward him. After the failed attempt to invade the capitol building the night before, things had been a little tense. They hadn’t spoken much last night or this morning, with Tenney’s whereabouts unknown.

  But Rosia had spent her pre-work-shift time to search for their large friend. She came to a stop in front of Yorick, and she put on a smile. A hesitant one, but it looked genuine enough.

  “He’s okay?” Yorick said.

  She nodded. “I found him across the street from the tea shop. He’s injured, but okay. Bullet in the arm.”

  “What happened?”

  “He stopped the sun worshippers from blowing up this brothel. He killed their leader and escaped.”

  “Tenney killed the leader of the sun worshippers?”

  “I don’t think it’s the leader of them all or anything like that. But the guy in charge of their cell. Tenney shot him point blank and took out a couple others before he ran for it. He had to hide in a dumpster until they were gone, and then he found a clinic to treat his injury. That’s why he didn’t meet us yesterday evening.”

  The dishwasher clicked on, a wave of steamy heat pushing out from each side. Yoric
k let the idea settle on him. The terrorist sun worshippers had intended to bomb this building and everyone in it. Sure, there were plenty of government targets, but there were serfs and regular people. Innocent people.

  “But he’s okay?”

  She gave a slight shake of the head. “He’s been through a lot, but he claims he’s fine.”

  “Where did he sleep last night?”

  “Near the tea shop.”

  “Outside? Did you tell him he could come stay with us? I’m sure we could find a way to sneak him into our room.”

  “I offered, and he said no.” Rosia’s expression darkened. “Despite what he says, he’s not in a good way.”

  Yorick nodded. Tenney hadn’t been in a good way since before Malina’s death. None of them were. But, Tenney had been hit harder than Yorick or Rosia. No doubt about it.

  “I get it,” Yorick said. “We should keep an eye on him.”

  “He said he would stay in the area if we need to contact him.” Rosia kissed Yorick on the cheek, then tilted her head toward her workstation. Time to get to the morning food prep.

  Yorick focused on his dishes, cleaning up the ones the evening shift hadn’t finished from dinner last night. This had never been a problem before. Yorick usually came in to find a clean workstation, ready for the day.

  He shrugged it off and stacked bowls and plates on one side. After he’d run a few loads through, the kitchen door opened behind him, and a young man Yorick had never seen before hurried into the kitchen. Muscular, with bright eyes against dark skin, and bushy hair that extended out from his head like a popped kernel of corn. He walked directly toward Yorick, unrolling an apron and wrapping it around his waist.

  “I am so, so sorry,” he said, looking at the dirty dishes in the pit. “This is all my fault.”

  “You’re the evening dish guy,” Yorick said as he put it all together.

  The young man extended a hand. “Alejandro. I’m really sorry about this. Everything was loco last night, and then I got a wicked stomach ache, and I had to cut out early. Let me give you a hand to get caught up. Sound good?”