by Mike Smith
She would never hear the end of it from Alex.
With his warning about staying out of trouble, at least for a couple of days, still ringing through her head, she was therefore somewhat relieved by their next words.
“You watch her, I’ll go and see what I can find. Posh place like this must have something valuable; gold, jewellery, anything that we can sell in a flash.”
Jessica didn’t know if she should be relieved or insulted. They were just common thieves, burglars, out to steal whatever they could get their hands on. She was worth so much more than any jewellery or gold they might find in the house. However, if nothing else, she had learnt her lesson from her previous foray with the criminal element on this planet and wisely kept her mouth shut. But she had forgotten that they were not alone, and it immediately became apparent that Lucifer had no such qualms about remaining still.
It was the eyes that immediately drew everybody’s attention, for they shone like two yellow sapphires, the colour of sulphur, as they reflected the weak light from the room. Lucifer sat on his haunches, his gaze fixated on her—and the arm currently wrapped around her waist. From his jaws reverberated a deep, throaty growl. Nobody moved a muscle, not Jessica, not the man with his arm around her or the other one holding the lantern. Only one of the men moved and then only ever so slightly, the gun swinging round to point at Lucifer’s eyes, his finger tightening on the trigger.
“Lucifer, no.” The cry surprised everybody, Jessica most of all, as the words came from her lips. Still Lucifer continued to ignore them, his muscles straining in preparation for launching himself at the intruders. “Lucifer, roll over,” Jessica said the first words that came to mind, wincing at the stupidity of them, yet, they seemed to have the desired effect where others had failed, as miraculously Lucifer did indeed roll over, showing his soft underbelly and his tongue hanging out, as his feet pawed at the air.
Jessica could feel the man behind her relax his muscles, loosening his hold over her ever so slightly. More importantly, the gunman lowered his weapon, chuckling slightly. “Cute dog,” he commented, “But not a very effective guard dog.”
“We don’t have time for this,” the man with his hand around Jessica’s abdomen uttered. “I overheard the Sheriff saying he might swing past here before he retires for the night. Just shoot the damn dog and let’s get this over with.”
“No!” Jessica cried out, but this time using the little freedom that she now possessed, pivoting around, catching the arm from her throat, using the leverage and her strength to lift him from his feet.
“What the hell—” the man shouted, but his cry was cut off as she effortlessly threw him several feet into the air—straight into Ewan, who had been holding the light. Both went crashing to the floor in a jumble of arms and legs and everything went black, literally, as the lantern fell to the floor, flickered for a moment and then went out.
“Shoot her you fool, before she gets away. She knows what we look like.”
The gunshot was incredibly loud in the confined space, the echo ricocheting off several walls like a multitude of explosions. Jessica could feel the bullet whisk past her face, missing by inches. The noise and bullet galvanised her into action and she turned round, sprinting back the way that she had come. This time she navigated the hall not by sight, but memory, and behind her she could hear the grunts of pain and frustration as the obstacles impeded her attackers. Still it did not slow them down for long and Jessica could hear the crashes and collisions from close behind as they pushed, threw or kicked the furniture aside. The several seconds of time that this gave her was enough to make it back to her room, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in the lock. Yet, she was under no illusion that the door was going to buy her any more time than the previous impediments. Without hesitating, she rushed straight to her bedside drawer, hunting around inside of it by feel alone, her hand finally clasping around the cold metal barrel of a gun—the one that Alex had given her, along with instructions to shoot him if he ever came near her.
Well, she had no plans to shoot him, at least not today, but would have no qualms about doing so to the men on the other side of the door.
A loud crack had her whirling around, the weapon raised in her hands, pointing unwaveringly at the large fracture that appeared in the middle of her door. With another loud thump a second hole appeared, and she instinctively pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“Damn,” she cursed, fiddling around with the weapon in the dark, looking for the safety catch that Alex had pointed out to her days earlier. “What I wouldn’t give for my fusion pistol. This antique is a piece of junk.” She finally managed to find the side mounted safely and switched it to the firing position. Once again, she pointed the weapon at the door and pulled the trigger. Still unused to the recoil, the shot went high, but the large calibre, steel jacketed round, still travelled all the way through the door. As the last echoes of the gunshot reverberated around the house, everything went still.
“Excuse me, is anybody hurt?” she called out sweetly, her finger tightening around the trigger.
“You crazy bitch,” a voice screamed from the other side of the door. “You almost killed me.”
“My mistake,” she replied coolly, adjusting her aim in the direction of the voice. Emptying the rest of the clip into the door and surrounding wall.
*****
Alex looked on in complete astonishment as everything went white in front of him. For a brief moment he thought perhaps that he had died and gone to Heaven, except he was certain that he would be heading in the other direction—straight to Hell. Hence, he dismissed the absurd idea, as soon as he thought of it.
It was only when long, jagged cracks started to appear in the pane of glass that he realised what had happened. The glass separating this office from the others was obviously bulletproof and had miraculously stopped the first salvo of bullets. It was also clear from the way that it was cracking that it wouldn’t stop the next barrage, hence instinctively he ducked back behind Rifkin’s desk.
It was only a moment later the glass did explode inwards, showering them both with fragments, the bullets that followed close behind all going high.
“Friends of yours?” he called out loudly to Rifkin, who, although only crouching a few feet away, he had to shout to be overhead by the thunderous roar of the guns.
“Disgruntled customer,” Rifkin shouted back. “Perhaps you would like to discuss their complaint with them? After all it’s you that they’re most dissatisfied with. It was a contract killing remember, and they were most insistent upon a corpse.”
Suddenly everything went still, the only sound the occasional spent shell case hitting the floor, as even with an extended clip, firing at six hundred rounds per minute was going to empty any clip in short order.
“Sure,” Alex agreed, surging to his feet. “Let me respond to this grievance.”
Bringing his fusion pistol to bear, he took aim at the first gunman, the one at the front of the line. Snapping off a shot, the beam flashed, lasting less than a millionth of a second, but in that time it covered the short distance, passing cleanly through the gunman, as if he was as insubstantial as a ghost, piercing the wall behind him, then the next and finally the next. By then Alex was already shifting his aim, targeting the next gunman in the line, and the next. He was dimly aware of simultaneous shots coming from beside him, as Rifkin similarly took aim, working down the line of gunmen, in the other direction.
The gunmen were still frantically trying to reload, before they even realised their monumental mistake. For having lined up, each abreast of the other, ensuring that all had an unimpeded line-of-fire, they were also now lined up like sitting ducks. It was a mistake that the two seasoned combat veterans didn’t hesitate in taking advantage of. The two of them ducking back under cover a few seconds later, as their remaining attackers finished reloading and the sound of gunfire resumed.
“It was a good thing that I installed that bull
etproof glass,” Rifkin commented, sliding a fresh clip into his pistol. “Twice now it has saved my life.”
“This a regular occurrence for you then?” Alex muttered. “Somehow I’m not surprised. I’d only known you for a few minutes and had wanted to shoot you.”
“We’ll be fine,” Rifkin replied. “They’ve got no cover out there, it’s just a question of time before they run out of ammunition. I, on the other hand, always come prepared.” He slid open one of the draws of his desk, revealing dozens upon dozens of spare clips.
“You really haven’t changed one bit, you know that, right?” Alex sighed, but before he could explain, once again everything fell eerily quiet.
“Let’s go,” Rifkin urged, about to get to his feet, but Alex caught him by the forearm first.
“No. Wait. Something’s not right,” Alex cocked his head, listening carefully. That was when he heard it, a clatter of metal hitting another hard surface, the floor perhaps? This was followed by a clash as something bounced over their heads, finally coming to a rest at their feet.
Alex and Rifkin exchanged horrified glances, before both instinctively dived forward trying to catch the grenade in time. Alex was slightly quicker, managing to grasp the grenade, when Rifkin landed on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs and the grenade from his hands.
“Got it,” Rifkin exclaimed in an exalted tone of voice, brandishing it in the air above both of their heads like some sort of trophy.
“Great,” Alex wheezed, still trying to catch his breath. “Now go ahead and swallow it. I hope you choke on it too.”
“What?”
“Do something with it you idiot. Get rid of it, before it goes off.”
“Oh right. Good point.”
Alex could only sigh, wondering which of them was the greater fool. Rifkin for waving around a live grenade, or himself, for walking eyes wide open into this obvious trap. He should have done like his counterpart in the journal, stayed at home and lived to a ripe old age.
*****
With a click the clip ran dry, and not for the first time.
Alex in his infinite wisdom had demonstrated to her how to reload the pistol, without giving her any spare clips, or telling her where she might find new ones. So, as she had already done many times before, Jessica casually discarded the pistol, reaching into a large, particularly ugly vase, and pulled out another.
Whoever said that cleaning wasn’t good for the soul?
For her it had been good for both body and soul, as over the past few days she’d come across dozens, just like this one, hidden in every conceivable nook and cranny. They were a health and safety nightmare and she had already vowed that Alex would have to remove every last one of them, before she would permit any visitors. What possible reason could he have for needing all of them? It wasn’t as if a band of marauding bandits were going to descend upon the house…well, perhaps in this instance it was, but surely this didn’t happen all the time?
Jessica had left one man, wounded, outside her bedroom door, where one of the bullets had passed cleanly through his shoulder. He wasn’t going anywhere and, having taken his pistol and casually tossed it out the nearest window, was not much of a threat. She had easily found the second—she just had to follow Lucifer’s growling. Ewan, as the others had called him was in the living room, prostrate on the ground, trembling, with Lucifer standing over him, teeth bared, centimetres from the man’s throat. Like the first, he was certainly not going anywhere, which left the third and final one.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called, taking a couple of steps in his direction. Raising her pistol, she aimed it down the corridor where she had last seen him running. Jessica fired a couple of rounds and the massive shells punched gaping holes in the plaster, all along the length of the corridor.
Upon reaching the end of it, she stuck her gun around the corner, emptying the rest of the clip. She could hear the sound of glasses, vases, tables and chairs exploding under the withering gunfire. Behind her she had left a similar trail of destruction, from smashed doors, shattered windows to bullet-ridden rooms. Jessica didn’t give any of it a second thought, so incensed at the memory of that man pointing a gun at Lucifer and insisting on the others to shoot her. She was certainly going to have strong words with him about that, assuming that he was still alive to hear them. Dead or alive, she didn’t really care. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d ever felt such heart-stopping fear. The mess she could clean up later, but first she would catch the last gunman and make him pay—dearly.
Tossing the now empty pistol aside, she reached under a side table withdrawing yet another one that had been taped underneath. Jessica quickly glanced round the corner and took note of the figure disappearing through a pair of adjoining doors. Whistling jovially, she side-stepped the trail of destruction and followed the fleeing figure.
Alex had warned her against having any houseguests or getting into trouble. Well, she was just doing as he had asked. As these were mostly definitely unwanted houseguests and it wasn’t the least bit of trouble to get rid of them all.
*****
The resulting explosion shook the room. The light was blinding, the noise worse, like a dozen express trains all passing in a single moment.
Alex had to shake his head before he could focus, disorientated by the intensity of the blast. Struggling to his feet he turned round to a scene of devastation, even he, immune to the horrors of war had to look away. For in the enclosed space of the room the explosion had been magnified and the resulting injuries gruesome in the extreme.
“Javier!” Rifkin bellowed from beside him. “You promised me that you would spare me if I offered him up to you.”
Alex swung round, just in time to see a figure duck out of the main entrance to the offices. He only had a fleeting impression of the man, as their gazes had locked for only a fraction of a second. Tall, with blond hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. Alex jolted with a start, as if he’d touched an electrified wire and something seemed to pass between the two of them, almost akin to recognition. Which was strange, as Alex knew he had never laid eyes on the man before, because he would have remembered a face like that.
“Javier huh?” Alex glowered at Rifkin. “What happened to Smith?”
“Uh, Javier Smith?” Rifkin replied innocently.
Growling in disgust, Alex jumped through the shattered window, the sound of glass intermixed with blood crunching underfoot as he dashed after the fleeing figure. He had some questions that he wanted to ask and it seemed that this Javier was the one most likely to have the answers. Sliding to a stop, just before the door that Javier had disappeared through only moments before, Alex turned round to face Rifkin once more. “Don’t go anywhere. You still owe me a lot of money.”
“Of course, I’ll remain right here until—”
Whatever else he was going to say was cut-off, mid-sentence, by the flash of the fusion beam, striking him squarely in the chest. He toppled backwards, striking the floor, motionless.
“Damn right you will,” Alex muttered. “I’m not in the mood for chasing you both down.” Certain now that Rifkin wouldn’t be going anywhere, Alex stepped through the door, which was almost the last thing he ever did.
It was only a flash of movement from the corner of his eye that saved his life, diving to the ground, as a hail of bullets passed through the space that he’d been occupying only moments before. His fusion pistol flashed back in response, firing almost involuntary, an extension of himself and his thoughts. But his quarry appeared to have reflex actions that matched his own, ducking back behind the cover of a doorway, the beam flashing past him.
Before he’d even caught his breath, Alex was up and running after him. Sliding along the polished floor, this time taking no chances as he passed the doorway, his fusion beam reaching out once again—but his prey had disappeared. The sound of footsteps further down the corridor had him sprinting in that direction, but before he could reach the junction he r
an smack into two more people. These two must have come from the same troop of gorillas as the last bunch, as taken by surprise at Alex’s sudden appearance, they were slow to react.
Alex rammed an elbow into the throat of the first and the man dropped to the floor clutching it in agony. The second managed to pull a heavy pistol free from a shoulder holster, but Alex was able to catch hold of his wrist, deflecting the first round up and away from his face. With both of them struggling for the pistol, Alex was forced to let his own drop to the floor as the two of them fought back and forth over the weapon. The man was extremely strong, taking Alex by surprise and he was forced to duck as another round exploded from the pistol, almost taking his head off. Fortunately, the shot gave him a brief reprieve and using one hand to continue to deflect the pistol, drew his other hand back and, making a fist, rammed it into his attacker’s face. The blow had almost no effect and, with time quickly running out, Alex drew his arm back once again, unleashing a massive blow. With a crack and spray of blood, the man’s nose broke. Three more quick successive blows and the man collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Still, by then it was far, far too late. Alex checked all the adjoining corridors, but Javier had long since disappeared. He quickly debated attempting to rouse one or both of the men he had incapacitated, but he recognised hired thugs when he saw one and knew that neither of them would have any useful information.
Picking up his fallen pistol, Alex turned round, heading back in the direction of Rifkin’s offices. If nothing else he would get his money back, hopefully then the entire trip wouldn’t have been a complete waste of time.
*****
Jessica stepped into the room, swinging the pistol right, then left, this time hesitant to just spray gunfire around the room—for this was Alex’s library and the room had sentimental value to the both of them. For she felt that it was here that they had finally reached some sort of understanding, or perhaps truce was a better term. For while they both came from backgrounds light years apart, they still seemed to have a lot in common, with a love of reading and history, just two of them. Anyway, some of the books were almost five hundred years old and she was loathed to risk damaging even one of them.
