Wyrd Gere

by Steve Curry

  I sighed and dug a fork into the sticky dessert on my plate. At least the tres leche cake didn’t let me down.

  After an awkward evening of suspicions and silent appraisals, we all made our way to various beds. I didn’t pry or even really care where everyone else ended up. I was willing to bet that Franco ended up somewhere other than Conspiracy Barbie. I was also willing to bet that he’d manage to find company anyway. As I recall he’d been getting almost as good with young ladies as he’d been with weapons and explosives the last time I saw him. And that was before he grew into those ears.

  I chuckled over those ears until I found my way into a deep sleep in the most comfortable bed I’d ever felt.

  14

  By the time Perro got moving, I was well into my own preparations. My list of requested materials had probably not made a lot of sense to him or whoever did the shopping. As usual, there was method to the madness, even my madness.

  Then again Pedro Perro was crazy enough to think blowing up chunks of a prison was reasonable, so maybe my suggestions didn’t sound mad at all to him. That was uncomfortable when I thought about it. I’d hate to think my logic might actually align with the people-smuggler and amateur saboteur.

  When he wandered into the outer room of the suite I had done some rearranging. I had a smaller table moved over beside the dining table. Sitting in the angle provided, I had laid out my materials and several of the weapons.

  “Stop right there smuggler.” I didn’t have to look to know he was close to causing some issues.

  I pointed down at the entire cowhide I’d spotted in the market earlier. At least they didn’t cost as much in Mexico as I would have paid in Texas. Some Americans put almost as much value in cattle as any bull-stealing Irish king of bygone ages.“Don’t step on the new rug. You’ll break my circle and slow everything down. Might even contaminate the work I’ve already started.”

  I saw him narrow his eyes and take a look at the “rug”. Clearly visible were the lines and runes I’d marked into the hide with a Woodburner. Less noticeable were the sprinklings of various earths, metals and other sundries. It was by no means some greater magic circle you’d expect from a Gandalf or Merlin. It served much the same purpose though.

  “If you break my circle a lot of work gets wasted. I could either keep going and hope to get lucky, or I would have to start over on the hide and hope I had enough material left over. We don’t want to call up your sketchy associates for more errands do we?” I still hadn’t forgotten that my “guide” associated and even employed at least one of the guys who’d come as close to killing me as anyone had since ‘Nam.

  For once Pedro took a hint and ran with it. Without a word he waved and shot me his cocky grin before moving into the conference room between the two suites. Maybe half an hour later I heard them start setting up brunch on the same tables he’d put a feast on the previous night. I was too busy to worry about it though.

  The tactical tomahawk was my current project. The vinyl handle felt good, was shock resistant and it had a great grip wrapped in paracord. Those artificial materials were not as good as leather or other natural materials for holding runes though. I compromised by adding a coil of leather that wrapped around the handle after I had worked it with runes that I had chanted while burning them into the material.

  The blade was good quality steel. It wasn’t professionally stained or polished like many others. Instead, it was rough looking, heavy and brutal. The handle was shorter than others and the blade thick and rugged. In short, it looked like a descendant of something I’d have found hanging on some blacksmith’s wall in my youth.

  I’d already carved a number of runes and runebinds into that steel with the engraving tool. Prominent amongst the runes sung into that steel were Teiwaz, Uruz, and Algiz either singly or bound together into a more complex runebind. I wasn't entirely sure why, but at the end, I had meticulously added Kenaz plus Sowulo for fire hardening and finally that chaotic powerhouse Thurisaz.

  I had come to respect Thor’s rune Thurisaz even more after it effects in the mist world of my shamanic journey. It might not work the same in the real world but apparently, it was much like setting off a small nuke in the dreamworld. I just had to hope it didn’t have some random trigger waiting in ancient MesoAmerican ruins.

  Pedro and Franco both took a minute to poke a head into the room and inform me first of breakfast’s arrival, and later about lunch. Each time I pointed to a coffee pot sitting on the smaller table at my side with a cheese danish, a sandwich and some fruit on a plate. Breaking a circle like mine wasn’t disastrous by any means but I had no idea how long the work might take. So I had planned accordingly.

  By afternoon, my back was starting to hurt. I could stand and stretch but there was no room to walk around inside the small circle. The last time I’d really walked about was while I tried to get in touch with Maureen again by way of Pedro’s burner phone. Again she didn’t answer. Maybe she was just screening her calls? I left a message and then got down to work.

  Since that call, I had barely moved after adding the energy that “powered” the circle. On the other hand, I got a lot of work done. The combat dirk was about as good as I could make it with such limited time and material. The same could be said for enhancements I’d put on the vest and a couple of baubles I’d made. The bulk of that time had gone into the tomahawk. In the end, I’d found myself singing Ansuz into the steel without remembering a decision to do so.

  That was alarming. Ansuz is the rune of communication but it is also a “God” rune. It is used to communicate with higher powers, spiritual matters...Gods. Many people associate it with Odin himself. Had my dream journey triggered something? Was my subconscious trying to get the attention of the great Cyclops in the Sky?

  That didn’t seem to matter at the moment. I had too much else to worry about.

  Once the runework itself was done I gathered everything and went into the conference room. Everyone else was sitting and talking at that point. I don’t know what kind of preparations the others required but they seemed in no rush to go about their business. The only exception was Franco. I finally got the idea that he might be more than a weapons courier. He had pulled a chair up to the weapons table and was working on a couple of guns as well as a satchel that closely resembled his demolitions bag from back in the day.

  Fumbling together some rough fajitas in lukewarm tortillas, I made a meal to carry me over while I worked on things that didn’t require a protective circle.

  “So you’re going in with me or got something else cooking?” I directed the question in a voice that wouldn’t carry past out table.

  “Hmm?” He didn’t lift his eyes from the disassembled gun in front of him. “Oh, I will be going along part of the way. Your handler over there seems to want some distractions scattered around in case extraction becomes a problem. A few bangs and some flashes should do the trick no? Of course, I also have a couple of new additions for you. He said you might need to provide an opening where otherwise there was none. There’s a bandolier with a handful of shaped charges. Beehives, amatol, quick snap fuses should do the trick, my friend. Just press the fat side to a surface and trigger it then make some room. Shaped or not they are dangerous. You could expect at least a headache and loss of hearing if you stand too close.”

  I just grunted agreement while I was loading extra magazines for some of my own choices. It seemed we were both getting our game faces on. A minute later I cleared my throat and broke character.“Hey, and thanks, Franco. I appreciate you offering me the best you had.”

  His grunt had a hint of laughter behind it. “Your Sugar Daddy had a good credit rating Moose.”

  “It’s Mouse dammit. And he’s my friend, not a sugar daddy. Eachan just happens to have a great deal more accessible financing than I did from inside a Mexican prison.” I made a note to punch the hel out of Pedro when time and circumstances permitted. For the prison and the “sugar daddy” both.

  Franco’s happy
chuckle interrupted that thought. I looked up to see him beaming a wide gleaming smile of pure joy. “So he is your friend, with benefits?”

  I was saved from answering that by an urgent knock at the door. Franco and I seated magazines and chambered rounds as if orchestrated. That was good. We hadn’t even been that well-coordinated when we worked together every day.

  I saw the gunsel with the blonde produce his own weapon. He was toting a revolver today. It was some type of magnum since it said so in bold letters along it’s vented barrel. For her part, the girl flipped her hair back behind her ears and then picked up her phone of all things.

  Pedro gave us all a disgusted look mixed with amusement as he opened the door to show his “associate” leaning weakly against the frame. There was blood all over his shirt and he seemed to be gasping for breath. Pedro leaned forward to give him his complete attention. I guess the rest of us were more or less following suit.

  That was probably why we didn’t immediately notice the side doors open from each of our suites. The sound of a cleared throat drew our attention though. These guys were professional. No pumping a shotgun or sliding a bolt back to startle us. He just gave that one almost apologetic sounding cough.

  “Gentlemen, please put your weapons down. If you do not I shall have my men cut you down like the dogs you undoubtedly are.” His voice was as steady as the shotgun in his hands. No pump action for him. It was a fancy enthusiast’s gun. I’d seen them before. Turkish made toys that looked like an AR-15 on steroids. I saw two more of them in the hands of characters not carrying either an AK or the ubiquitous Uzi.

  All in all, there must have been close to a dozen guns in that room all of the sudden and ours were the only ones not pointed someplace productive. Only two people moved in that first instant. The bloody guy at the door produced a sleek looking pistol and stuck it in Pedro’s ribs, and the girl smoothed her hair back again and with an air of complete nonchalance started to plug her earphones in.

  I saw Pedro go pale. Apparently, close contact gunshot wounds bothered him. “Hang on. Nobody gets excited here. Right compadres?”

  His voice was for all of us but I saw him make brief eye contact with our own people starting with the girl who got a longer look. He probably wasn’t sure she was paying attention. Her nod was at least reassuring. He didn’t seem as concerned with the rest of us noticing. I guess our complete focus on all of the guns was plain enough.

  To our uninvited guests, his tone wasn’t deferential as it had been to the cartel guys at the diner. To these guys, he reacted with more confusion and frustration. “I messed up trusting the wrong guys didn’t I?”

  A prod of the gun in his ribs got Perro to move into the room so his bad decision could shut the door behind him. “Yea I guess you shouldn’t have trusted me so much. Once they had Mr. Gary though it seemed prudent to switch sides, Pedro. I’d apologize but I don’t think it would matter for very long at all.”

  “Shut up, dog” The command came from the previous spokesman who also seemed to be the leader of the gunmen. He detailed the two other guys with shotguns to a guard position just by waving them towards the door with his own weapon.

  “The rest of you keep quiet and cluster up in the corner over there. No moves towards a door or window and no sudden moves at all. It would be nice if we could handle this calmly and quietly.” He used his gun barrel again as a baton to herd us into a secure little knot of victims.

  “Two Uzis to watch, don’t get in anyone’s line of fire. You two take their guns and search them.” That took care of half the invading troops. It didn’t take long to find out what the others would be doing.

  None of us felt suicidal enough to resist as they removed our weapons and patted us down for further things we’d failed to use when it mattered. While our closest new buddies did that, their allies began packing everything up in both suites as well as anything in the conference room that didn’t belong to the hotel.

  15

  “What can I say, Perro? With the boss in their hands it was join, run or die. I’m too lazy to run and I like being on the winning side.” The little weasel’s name was Porfirio and he was apparently very pleased with his betrayal and performance at the door. Porfirio was interrupted by the barrel of a sleek Turkish shotgun that broke off a couple of teeth and bloodied his lips.

  “I said shut up, cur.” The guy in charge of our captors would bear watching. Even after some creative violence and amateur dental work he didn’t show any emotion. His tone was flat and he hadn’t even drawn a deep breath or anything before delivering the brutal blow. A side glance told me I wasn’t the only one that noticed. Franco pursed his lips considering the man while the Latino bodyguard turned a flat gaze that said pretty much the same thing about both captor and captive. This is not someone to take lightly.

  It didn’t take long at all before the entire set of rooms had been sanitized of our presence. Bossman did a walkthrough himself to make sure. While he was out of the room we had no less than six assorted weapons trained on us. Either these guys were extremely professional or someone had been telling them stories to make us sound dangerous.

  Finally, the chief bad guy came back. “Okay, you three with me. We will all walk down with the luggage and our friends here. The rest of you get the cars and meet us at the side entrance.”

  I saw Pedro give the girl an almost unnoticeable shake of the head. For her part, she still had her earphones in and was chewing gum. She returned a tiny nod before going back to gently bobbing her head to whatever music she had queued.

  “Here is how we will do things. You may call me Jeffe. We are all old friends now aren’t we?” He tossed his shotgun to one of the retreating troops and pulled out a big ugly revolver.

  “I will walk with the lovely lady on my arm.” He grabbed her and wrapped one arm around her waist. Then he turned to flash a broad and toothy smile at her while his other hand held the revolver almost against her side between them.

  “If any of you become bold, I am afraid there will be a terrible mess. Blood and gaping holes in her fashionable dress. That would be tragic no?” He stopped to chuckle as she gave him a brief but fairly icy stare.

  “Don’t worry chica.” I’m not sure what Pedro thought a good time to worry was if that wasn’t one. “They won’t hurt you right now. We just play nice eh? The cars will be here soon then we can see what kind of trouble we’re in.”

  Good ole Jeffe laughed out loud at this. “Oh dear no. We do not hurt young fashionable women with stunning blonde hair! They are too valuable. We know people that would pay a great deal to claim you for their own dear. Who knows? Maybe you will get one of the good ones who treats you well between...sessions.”

  I didn’t like the direction he was going. But that was nothing compared to her little guard. Luis took a step forward with both hands clenching and unclenching in time to the throbbing blood vessel on his forehead. He spat out a fairly filthy word or two before switching to what might have been even more imaginative obscenities in Spanish. The tirade only stopped when one of the uzi stocks hit him behind the kidney hard enough to steal his breath.

  “Very good.” Boss-man nodded his approval. “I hope you got that out of your system. It always becomes tedious paying off authorities when you spray bullets at people in a crowded hotel. Hopefully, nobody else is going to be loud then. No?... Good, you two husky gringos can push the luggage cart. If you take your hands off of it, she will be shot.”

  When nobody took him up on the opportunity to vent a little hostility he nodded again. In a fairly quiet clump, we went down the hall, and into the elevator which was packed enough to prompt thoughts of resistance. Jeffe had thought of that though. As soon as the doors closed he moved the pistol from her side to point it under her chin.

  By the time the elevators were open again, the gun was back in Heather’s side and we walked through the lobby with the only sound coming from the pistolero with the lady. He was telling some entertaining story and laughing
at his own wit enough that nobody noticed any of the rest of us.

  That got us to the side entrance where the cars were waiting. By cars I mean large and sturdy looking SUVs and a hummer. “My old friend Pedro will ride with me. Put the little Mexican with one of the gringos. Make it the tall one. The short fat one will ride with the girl in the hummer. I thought I saw Heather almost smile at the “fat” comment. That didn’t make sense though. She was looking at being our insurance for now and somebody’s sex-slave later. That didn’t seem like anything to be taken lightly.

  In short order, we took off. Heather and I were in the middle, in the military-grade vehicle. We were bracketed between the two merc types in the front truck and Pedro with his previous employer and current captor in the rear car. I could only guess how unpleasant that conversation was. Our own car was no laugh fest. The guy in the rear with us kept turning to brush up against Heather while making comments to his buddies in front. He was sitting in one of those little fold-out seats behind the shotgun guy in the passenger seat.

  Just to make it more hilarious, he would switch from Spanish to English every once in a while so she could be sure to understand his innuendos and filthy suggestions for her. That finally came to a halt when he reached over and slid a hand up her thigh to push the dress up well over her knees.

  “Okay, that is totes not cool.” This time she pulled out one of her earbuds and let it hang down her chest while she thumbed a new song to play. I heard a synthesizer or electric organ start playing a long low note with hints of church service in it.

  She turned to me and said, “You should like, brace yourself.”

  And then her hands moved almost too fast to see. One came up to smash up into his nose. The other hand dropped to his offending paw on her thigh and closed with a distinct sound of cracking bone and cartilage. Mr sexual offender let out a gurgling scream and pulled the trigger on an Uzi that was pointed at my middle from no more than a foot away.