The Austin Job

by David Mark Brown

  He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill her, while knowing it to be a potential outcome. Meticulous planning balanced with graceful improvisation—they were the twin pillars of Buza combat. Live or die, she’d remain bound until he reached the dock south of the financial district.

  “You like quarters?” He yanked a second restraint from the wall behind him and bound her waist to the ladder before binding her feet as well. “I panel cabin and conning tower with walnut for down home feeling. Plus soft on noggin when ride get bumpy.” He stood and looked her in the eyes, thumping her twice on the head and grinning. “You have something to say?”

  “Why did you kill her? She was faithful to you.”

  He sucked his teeth. Blinking slowly, he turned toward the helm and began prepping the sub for departure. His mind fogged with emotion. “She did not deserve to live.” Daisy gasped before falling quiet. He imagined his daughter to be like her—strong, angry, deceptive—offspring he could be proud of. He tried to focus on the task before him, but Daisy’s presence made him vulnerable—stirring up his darkest fears. What if his Tatiana was not proud of him? What if she could not forgive?

  He breathed deep, clearing the fog. Stepping onto the rung level with Daisy’s knees, he reached overhead to close the hatch. One hand cupped beneath her chin, he squeezed the muscles in her jaw ensuring she couldn’t bite him. He let go only after jumping down.

  “Don’t worry.” He slapped her cheek like a kindly grandfather. “You I respect. Boyfriend too.” She stared coldly. “Hmm? You wish to talk about something else? Nothing? Very well.” He turned back to the helm, flicked a lever to fill the rear ballast, then another to fill the main. Finally he cranked over the engine, filling the cramped space with a muffled roar. He let it run the whole time the ballasts filled. Completely submerged and batteries primed, he shut down the diesel motor and closed his eyes.

  Only his and Daisy’s breathing interrupted the gentle hum of the electric propulsion. Slowly he guided the mini-sub through the canal running beneath the campus and into the Colorado River. “Your father, the sheriff. Killing him will be pleasure.”

  ~~~

  “Here.” Starr waved Lickter over. “These.” He stabbed the schematic in several spots. “These are moonlight towers.”

  “It’s another map.” Lickter’s vision blurred, forcing him to rest his elbows on the table.

  “You okay?”

  He lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his thinning hair in an attempt to dredge the murderous thoughts from his mind—images of Rodchenko dancing and broiling while hooked up to his own machine. He slammed his hand down on the map, spooking the mental specters. “What do you see?”

  “Just about every one of them has been checked off.” Starr scratched the scar on his cheek. “He’s planning something for the towers.”

  “He’s got access to ‘em from the tunnels.” Lickter took over the train of thought. “This morning I ran into a fella near the one on Fourth and Walnut. Or at least I think it was Fourth and Walnut.” He raked his eyes across the disheveled lab, grasping for clues, for some connection between the towers and the tunnels, for anything to help his Daisy. But his mind kept playing tricks on him.

  He couldn’t shake the smell of cooked human flesh. The charred bodies of Brutus and Oleander flittered across his field of vision. Clenching his teeth, he twiddled his fingers nervously. Where’s my damn toothpicks?

  “Oleg said something to me in the ballroom that I’ve been trying to figure out.” Starr interrupted his thoughts. “He said that the rules change when the objective isn’t to protect the king, and then something about the moon becoming the sun.”

  The words jolted Lickter. “Over here. I saw something earlier.”

  “He means the towers, doesn’t he?” Starr helped him right an upturned table and heave aside spoilt shelving to reveal what lay beneath. “What is it?”

  “Hell on earth.” Lickter picked up a broken model of a moonlight tower about three feet tall. Copper pipe connected the base to a compression tank while a wire and two alligator clips dangled from the top. He found a small battery a few feet away. They lifted the model onto a nearby table and connected the battery. Turning the knob for the gas, he flipped a switch for spark. Instantly, flame shot out the top of the tower.

  “He’s gonna burn everything.” Starr gasped.

  Lickter swore as Starr turned off the gas. “None of this tells us where he is, and if he still has my daughter.” He flipped the model off the table. “I should’ve never involved her.”

  “About that. How exactly is she involved, Sheriff?” Starr’s voice rose in intensity. “Are you using her the same way G.W.’s using me? Was it her job to keep me on your side?”

  “You preachy little twit.” Lickter turned on him, his fists clenched. “She wanted to come to the big city, and Gwen wanted to match her with you—make you look like less of a clueless country boy out of his league.” He cracked his knuckles. “I introduced her to you. That’s how she’s involved. That’s why she’s God knows where right now.” He used his height to loom over Starr. “You don’t deserve her.”

  Starr’s burning eyes reminded Lickter of a passion he’d lost years ago. Maybe it was time to get it back. Hefting a crate of brass nozzles, he smashed it into a nearby wall before getting in the younger man’s face. “I did what gave me the best odds of winning. Is that what you wanna hear?” Spitting as he spoke, he continued, “I used my own flesh and blood as an asset,” he backed down, “and then lost her.”

  “Look, Sheriff, I’m trying to help here. But you’re not giving me much reason—”

  “My daughter!” Lickter’s thunderous voice echoed about the cavern. “She’s the only reason you need, dammit. She loves you. That part’s real.” He cracked his neck, rising to his full height. “Forget the rest. The less you know the better.”

  “How is ignorance better?” Starr slammed his fist on the table.

  “Are you listening?” Lickter clutched him by the collar. “She loves you.” He shook the boy, letting the three words settle. “She’s the only thing I’m proud of in this life, the only good thing I’ve done. I don’t know what you believe, son, and I don’t care, but I believe in God. I don’t know how the scales of justice work, but I gotta hope bringing a rich life into the world can make up for living a poor one. You understand me?” Starr nodded. “We have to find her.”

  Lickter pushed past the senator and straightened the map of the moonlight towers. “Now help me see how this,” he slapped the map, “helps us do that.” Starr narrowed his eyes, and Lickter could tell he wanted more information—an explanation as to why a madman had been allowed thus far to harass the city unchecked. But Lickter didn’t have any satisfying answers for a future governor needing to maintain deniability.

  Hell, the answer didn’t satisfy himself anymore. Some power hungry bitch with daddy issues needed to prove herself to a bunch of power-hungry sons of bitches to get into a secret club for power hungry sons of bitches. He shattered a jar against the wall and repeated his plea. “Help me find my daughter.”

  Starr stroked the scruff on his chin. “Better?”

  “Just spill it, college boy.”

  Starr sighed. “Well, where would you go if the whole city were on fire?”

  Lickter reached for the toothpick that’d been absent for the last few hours before cursing and closing his eyes to think. “The river. It’d be the only place safe from burning up.”

  Starr nodded. “Exactly.”

  “So he’s got a boat.”

  “Not a boat.” Starr cleared a path toward the side of the room they hadn’t inspected yet. “It’s not his style.”

  “Right, because he prefers handcarts powered by teenagers.” Lickter flipped the table, shattering a rack of test tubes and creating a bubbling smoke.

  “Sheriff!” Starr barked, “Get a grip before you burn the place with us inside.”

  He chewed his lip, refusing to look Starr in the eye. “I
need a toothpick.”

  “Find a splinter or something.”

  He adjusted his hat, loosened his shoulders. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Submersible.” Starr searched along the base of the wall. “The tunnels, the lab, the dark, always hidden from sight. Always beneath the surface.”

  “Hot damn, your right.” Lickter searched the wall in the opposite direction. “Down here. Look.” He gestured toward the end of the room they’d smashed through earlier. “Look at the smoke.” As the cloud of lingering smoke reached the ceiling it swirled in a current of moving air. A few minutes later they found the lever to open the wall into yet another subterranean passage, but this one echoed with the sounds of lapping water.

  TWENTY

  Deaf Ears

  Guadalupe Street had been blocked by a clump of protestors, forcing Starr to turn east onto Fifteenth. As he neared the northern side of the capitol he realized the whole area had been overwhelmed. His doubts about spreading the word blossomed, but he still couldn’t understand Lickter’s outburst when he’d suggested they warn someone, anyone, that the moonlight towers were about to become spewing derricks of burning oil. Someone had to listen.

  Lickter had told him to get his head out of the clouds and focus on what matters. After a few comments of a more colorful nature, they’d split up—Lickter headed for the Grandview and Starr for the capitol. But while they’d been underground, the surface world had gone mad. Now more than ever Starr needed a partner. Willy was the only one he had left.

  With no other choice, he waded into the crowd. For the first time he wished he had a hat to hide his face. His tattered and charred mourning suit didn’t help his efforts to blend in. Angry individuals jostled him, but without focus. No one carried protest signs. No organized chants filled the air, and the mob felt more like a tidal pool—rising and falling, pushing and pulling at the command of forces well beyond its control.

  A voice wafted toward Starr from the direction of the capitol where a preacher had climbed onto the monument of the Ten Commandments. He pieced together enough fragments to deduce the sermon centered on the battle of Armageddon in the Valley of Megiddo. Starr shivered. If the towers erupted at dusk, less than a half-hour away, Austin would look like Megiddo for sure.

  “Hey, Senator!” A meaty hand clasped down hard on his shoulder. “Talked to Governor Hobby yet?” The stranger levered Starr around to face him at the same time he swung a monstrous right hook. Starr ducked it while throwing a rabbit punch to the man’s kidney followed by another just below his sternum to leave the man sucking wind. Starr tried to finish him with a quick pop to the chin, but a pair of arms encircled him from behind. They locked him in a wrestling move his university buddy had luckily shown him how to counter.

  Before Starr could react, the man slammed him into someone else, and the dominoes began to fall. A glancing blow struck the top of Starr’s head as he yanked down and forward. The bulk of the punch caused the man clutching him to falter. With a final surge, Starr laced his fingers together behind his attacker’s head and launched him over his shoulder into the crowd.

  The human projectile temporarily cleared a path, and Starr took it. But the fight had awoken the rage of everyone brushing against it. If one of the many fists flying in every direction connected solidly, he could forget saving Daisy or anyone else, probably even himself. After dodging another punch, he whipped the sonic gun from its harness. Without further thought, he fired it over the heads of the crowd standing between him and the capitol fence.

  From directly behind the weapon Starr barely registered the buffeting owl’s wings, but with red light flashing, the sonic burst accomplished its task. Those most slammed by the pulsing wave of sound howled and dove for cover while dozens of others clutched their ears in shocked confusion.

  At a labored sprint Starr hurdled cowering protestors. As he neared the fence to the capitol lawn he fired the weapon once more before holstering it. This time the shockwave of panic in the mob radiated well beyond the pulse of the weapon as the mysterious screams of those affected racked others with fear. Stampedes broke out in multiple directions as Starr leapt onto the steel railing of the fence.

  “Down from the fence, or I’ll shoot!”

  Starr recognized the guard, but couldn’t recall his name. “It’s Senator Starr! Don’t shoot!”

  The guard paused, possibly taking in the tattered suit and blood stains. Starr clutched his jacket around the holster while racking his memory for the man’s name. “Norris! It’s James Starr!”

  Holstering his weapon, the guard hurried toward the fence. “You look like hell, Senator.”

  “Long story.” More gracefully than his last attempt, Starr heaved himself between two sharp spikes protruding from the top of the fence and slid down the inside with Norris stabilizing him. “And it’s going to get a lot longer if I don’t get to the governor fast.”

  But before Starr could take his leave, Norris stood off with his hand on his holster. “What was that sound that parted the mob like the Red Sea? And how come you wasn’t effected by it?”

  “Because I’m the one who created it.” Starr took a deep breath. “You’re a good man, Norris. Been here a hell of lot longer than me.” He looked the middle-aged, black man in the eyes.

  Norris nodded. “Twenty eight years I done served the State of Texas by guarding her most precious resource. That’s why we’s talking on this side of the fence.”

  Starr could hear addled protesters gaining their feet behind him as they recovered from the sonic burst. “For that I’m grateful. Now I’ve gotta ask an even bigger favor—that you trust me.” Norris scanned the perimeter for danger before returning his attention to Starr. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve seen things I never would’ve believed.”

  “The burnt bodies.” Norris tracked with him.

  “Among other things. And if we don’t right the wagon, there could be a lot more of ‘em.”

  Norris’ eyes got big. “I’m listening.”

  “If I can’t convince the governor to shut down the moonlight towers they’re gonna spread liquid fire instead of light, every one of ‘em, and in less than twenty minutes.”

  “But—”

  “There’s no time to explain how.” Starr turned Norris toward the tower on Trinity. “Everyone within fifty yards could burn up instantly.”

  “Jumping crawdaddys.”

  The image gave Starr the shivers. “Now I’ve got to warn Hobby.”

  “But Senator!” Norris gripped him by the shoulders. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The governor ain’t here. He done jumped ship a full three hours ago.”

  “What?” Starr couldn’t believe it.

  “Declared martial law and took off. I seen him hightail it with my own eyes.”

  “So who’s—”

  “No one, sir. At least not until the 5th shows up from Sam Houston, but word say they just leaving San Antonio.”

  Starr swore. Lickter had been right. “Look Norris, as a member of the Texas State Senate I declare you in charge.”

  “What am I gonna—”

  “I need you to spread the word to get away from the towers.” Starr retreated from the reeling guard while calling out his final instructions. “Whatever it takes, just get people away from the towers!” He took off at a lope, clutching his right thigh and heading for the Congress Avenue gates.

  From the southern lawn he watched the crowds overwhelm the gates and the several guards posted there. Twice more he pulsed just overhead of the mob, reducing the sea of humanity to a writhing mud flat. Before having to explain himself a second time, he dodged the dazed guards and slipped out the gates.

  As a faceless member of the masses, he quickly shimmied his way toward the livery where his earlier suspicions proved correct. The caretaker had bolted. Half the horses were gone, either claimed or stolen. With a sense of pride Starr found Willy in the main breezeway cornering a would-be looter in possession of
Starr’s saddle. He leveled the sonic gun. “Set it down, and maybe he’ll let you go.”

  Starr’s voice soothed the animal, and as Willy backed away the man dropped the saddle and bolted. Starr slapped Willy on the rump. “We’re going for a ride today, boy.” He ran his arm over the horse’s neck up to his ears. With a quick motion he pulled the bit into Willy’s mouth and tucked his ears into the bridle. He scratched the horse’s head. “But it could get dangerous, for both of us. You up for it?” The horse snorted and tossed the reins now dangling from its head while stamping his hooves.

  “Alright, alright. I had to check.” In a flash Starr had tossed the blankets and saddle on Willy’s back, cinched the girth and swung himself into the saddle. “Hyaw!” He lashed him once and they shot out the end of the livery and into the fray.

  ~~~

  “The jig is up, Gwen. How else can I put it to you?” Lickter drew her aside from the surge of chaos that overwhelmed the Grandview lobby. “Look around. This, all of this, is because of us. Rodchenko is prepared to burn down the entire city.”

  “And…” she glared back, inches from his face.

  “And that doesn’t concern you?”

  “We’re prepared to stop him,” she daubed beads of sweat from her forehead, “are we not?”

  He looked around. He couldn’t image how they were prepared for anything. The explosion of the ballroom had been the spark to ignite the city. The local sheriff and his boys were scattered all over town putting down riots. In a matter of minutes much of the town would be in flames. And now Oleg had his daughter. “He’s got—”

  One of Lickter’s own men interrupted him. “Ms. Lloyd, we’ve run out of room for the injured and there’s still no clear route to the hospital.”

  She brushed Lickter aside to respond. “Use the dining hall for triage and the kitchen for surgery if you need it. The doctor can help load people onto the elevator now that it’s operating again.”