“I dress how I see fit,” Jennings said, his eyes narrowing, feigning insult. “I don’t like when I am insulted, and I also pay these two very well to get angry on my behalf.” Lafayette and Fix glared at the two guards.
Behind them, the door opened and a nasally voice announced, “I do appreciate the work you’re doing Mr. Stone, Mr. Cahill, but perhaps I should speak to our guest.”
The guards stepped aside to reveal a man wearing a red tuxedo with a pencil thin moustache sitting on the top of his upper lip. His hair was slicked back and greasy- Jennings disliked his obsequious smile on sight.
“Gentleman, please do come in to the Raw Mind,” he said, sweeping them in through the door with an open arm.
“Thank you, Mister…”
“My name is Sinclair,” he replied, not indicating if it were first or last. “I believe you were interested in a one-time visit to our fine establishment, something that is not customary here for us,” he continued as he led them into what looked like an Old Earth hotel lobby with red velvet carpet, and old world furniture. “However, we are perfectly willing to work out an… a la carte deal for the well financed individual.”
Jennings forced a smile as a scantily clad woman grinned at them as she took their coats, and brought back three dinner jackets for them to put on.
“House rules, I’m afraid,” Sinclair said.
“Of course,” Jennings replied as he put his on. “A perfect fit, thank you.”
“Yes, Ms. Madeleine sizes men up well,” Sinclair agreed. “Now, let us discuss your interests and we will work something up that would hopefully be amenable to you.”
“What do you offer?” Jennings asked.
“Whatever the gentleman requires, sir,” he answered. “One thousand will provide you with the company of a lady for as long as you desire her,” he continued, “But that only covers certain items and certain ladies.”
“Where can I make a selection?” Jennings demanded.
Sinclair swung his arm toward a double door made of solid oak. “This way, please.”
The manager swung the door open and they stepped into a large room with a stage across from them, booths around most of the walls except where the bar was located on their left, and a dozen or so tables and lounge chairs placed around the room. A soft ambient music was being piped in from somewhere, more erotic than the techno-driven thump of most clubs of this type that Jennings had seen. A fog machine was creating a mist over the stage where two topless women moved and intertwined with each other slowly and sensuously. There were maybe twenty or thirty men sitting at the tables, some enjoying the company of beautiful women, some chatting with their friends or watching the show, and others downing drinks at the bar. Women moved slowly from man to man chatting, laughing, flirting, and every so often one would lead a man over to a spiral staircase, past another security guard.
“Look around, talk to the girls, have a good time, come back to me and we’ll discuss anything extra you might wish to purchase,” Sinclair said and took a small bow.
For Sinclair’s benefit, Jennings said, “Gentlemen, I don’t think I will need you for a while. I feel quite safe here.” He smiled at Sinclair before adding, “Please help yourself to a drink at the bar.”
He handed over his weapons to the two of them, knowing that he would never be allowed to keep them if he were to get Michelle Williams alone. Fix and Lafayette made their way to the bar and ordered drinks, keeping their eyes open for their girl. Jennings made his way through the tables, saying hello and shaking hands with those who were less reserved in their tipsiness. There were worse places to look for a bounty, he thought to himself as he passed the fourth unbelievably beautiful woman he had seen. Looking over at the bar, he met Fix’s eyes, who glanced over to his left where a few men were smoking cigars and laughing uproariously. In the middle of them was a college age girl wearing knee-high boots, a short skirt and a low cut top. She was holding a box of cigars, handing them out to her customers upon request and lighting them.
Nodding only slightly to Fix, Jennings turned and raised his hand, beckoning Sinclair over. The manager bustled over immediately and said, “Has sir made a decision?”
“Yes,” Jennings said. “That one with the cigars is exactly who I am looking for.”
Sinclair became noticeably uncomfortable and looked to the floor. “Sir, I am afraid she is unavailable,” he said sheepishly. “But we have many fine other selections,” he quickly recovered, but Jennings cut him off.
“She is the one I want,” he said sternly. “Why is she unavailable?”
“We have been saving her,” Sinclair explained, choosing his words carefully. “She’s as yet untarnished, and we have some members who enjoy that sort of thing.”
“Sinclair, you strike me as a pure capitalist, and I mean that as the greatest compliment,” Jennings said, to which Sinclair smiled and nodded, “And as such, I am sure that a deal could be struck. You said one thousand, but I will give you two.”
“I’m afraid that I cannot…”
“Five then,” Jennings said quickly. “Four for the club and one for you, as a gratuity if you take my meaning.”
Jennings could see Sinclair adding the money in his mind. “I believe, sir, we have a deal,” he said, offering a hand which Jennings took.
“Excellent,” he replied. Letting his voice drop to a whisper he added, “I’ve been disappointed with women who were supposed to be… What was the word you used? Untarnished? Alas, they have not been so.”
“Sir, you have my personal guarantee,” the manager protested.
“All the same, if I am going to pay five times the going rate for a night’s company, I would want certain assurances,” Jennings said.
“If sir wishes to place a deposit and would like to deliver the rest upon the morning, I am sure that would be fine,” he said.
“Excellent,” Jennings replied, producing his credit chit and authorizing it for one thousand dollars.
Sinclair took out a small card reader out of his pocket and scanned the chit through. Jennings was glad he had allowed that little bluff to go through, because the way his luck ran, God only knew how much of the Gael’s ten thousand dollar advance would be needed to actually bring the girl to justice.
“Shall I introduce you?” Sinclair asked.
“Lead on,” he replied, wrapping an arm around Sinclair’s shoulders and steering him through the tables toward Michelle Williams.
“Miss Melody, you have a guest,” Sinclair announced, beckoning Michelle over with an outstretched finger.
A look of terror crossed the pretty face of the young girl, but she visibly recovered quickly. At a snap of Sinclair’s fingers, another raven-haired beauty took the cigar box from Michelle, and the girl stepped forward.
“You’re very beautiful,” Jennings said honestly.
“Thank you,” she replied timidly.
“Come now, don’t be like that, this gentleman has paid a good deal of money for the pleasure of your company, the least you could do is smile for him,” Sinclair chastised.
“Sorry, sir,” she replied and did her best to force a smile.
“Shall we head upstairs?” he asked, placing an arm around her bare waist and steering her toward the spiral staircase.
“Have a nice night,” Sinclair said as he then scuttled off to some other duty.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Jennings said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Before he could explain anything further, they had arrived at the security guard standing in front of the spiral staircase. The guard patted Jennings down for weapons and then gave him the stereotypical “if you try anything foolish or hurt the girl” speeches.
“I understand. You’ve nothing to worry about from me,” Jennings said.
“Seriously, no funny business,” the guard said in a Polish accent. “The rooms are mic'd to ensure the girls’ safety.”
This did concern Jennings, but he kept the sm
ile plastered on his face. It was going to be hard to explain to Michelle that they were here to rescue her with someone listening in. They had already decided before landing at Strikeplain that her cooperation was going to be necessary to facilitate getting her out of the Raw Mind. They were going to be outgunned as it was- they couldn’t afford to be dealing with a prisoner as well. Michelle was going to have to want to go with them in order for their plan to work. The Raw Mind didn’t strike Jennings as the institution that allowed their customers to openly discuss escape plans with the club’s “property”.
The guard gave them a room key and some directions and they headed upstairs. Michelle opened the door, her hand shaking so hard that it took a moment to get the key into the slot. The room was smallish, but lavishly done with a four-poster king-size bed, a fur rug next to a fake fireplace and some old world art adorning the walls. There was a small buffet with a selection of alcohol and a music player.
Michelle had already headed nervously toward the bed, but Jennings called her back by asking, “Do you dance?”
She nodded.
“Excellent, let’s see what we have,” he mused as he looked through the computer files on the music player until he found something he liked. “This is nice,” he said as the opening serenade of Shostakovich’s Waltz from his Jazz Suite no. 2 began playing.
Slowly, Michelle came over towards him and allowed her body to be pulled into his. Hoping the music was loud enough to make his whisper inaudible to the listening devices, Jennings put his lips to her ear and whispered, “Whatever you do, do not speak louder than a whisper, do you understand?”
A look of fear crossed her eyes, but she did not see any malice from Jennings, so she just nodded.
“I’m not here to spend the night with you,” he continued. “Not that you’re not lovely, of course.” Having her this close to him was messing with his mind a bit. She was stunningly beautiful, she had an intoxicating aroma of wildflowers, and the way she moved against him was deviating his thought process considerably. Focus, Jennings, he thought to himself. “We’re here to get you out of here,” he whispered.
“A rescue?” she mouthed back.
He nodded.
“Who do you work for?” she whispered.
He shook his head to say, “Not now,” and glanced up to the ceiling to indicate the listening devices. He put his mouth back to her ear and whispered, “We need to find a way out of here. We have a ship and I have two men in the club, but we’ll need-”
He was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of plasma fire ripping through the air.
“Now what?” he wondered aloud.
Chapter 15
1
Lafayette had ordered a beer and was nursing it slowly, waiting for whatever was bound to go wrong to occur. Some people called it pessimism, and he wouldn’t disagree. However, when you had already thought about all the horrible things that could happen, it made it a lot easier to deal with when they did.
“Do you think the girl will be able to get us out of here?” he whispered to Fix.
The Scotsman eyed him sourly, “The hell would I know?” he demanded as he took a belt of sake.
Lafayette stared at the choice of beverage with an inquisitive look. “You like rice wine?” he asked.
“You don’t?” he retorted.
“Never mind,” Lafayette muttered.
“I find it relaxes the tension nicely without interfering too horribly with the reflexes before a firefight,” Fix explained further, one of the longer sentences he had been known to utter.
“Yeah, but…” Lafayette protested.
“You’re the one expecting the worst aren’t you?” Fix demanded. “Yet I’m the only one drinking like it.”
“Touché, mon ami,” the Cajun conceded. “Besides they’ve only got three or four security guards. They’re not going to stop us from getting out of here.”
The large oaken double door they had entered through to reach the salon suddenly flew open. Eight men armed with plasma rifles stepped through the door, the leader firing into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention. The one security guard at the steps drew a weapon as did another who had been masquerading as a guest. Both fell under a column of green fire before even getting a shot off.
“Your attention, please, ladies and gentleman,” the leader shouted. He was a beefy man with an American accent, wearing a suit that was too expensive even for the nicest brothel on Strikeplain.
Sinclair moved forward slowly from where he had been glad-handing several of his clients. He raised his hands in the air and said, “I am the manager of this establishment, gentlemen. What can we do for you?”
The leader turned his weapon on Sinclair and fired, sending the small man’s body flying back into a table. He crashed into it hard, already dead, sending the drinks of the four men seated there flying about. No one else in the establishment moved. It seemed as if the cigar smoke that lingered in the air had even stopped drifting.
“I hate being interrupted,” the leader said. He turned to his men and ordered, “Fan out. Martinez and Roma, upstairs.”
The men spread out through the room, forcing those who were seated to get up and make their way over to the bar. The leader continued, “We are looking for four people: three men and a girl. If they are given over to us, we will leave this charming establishment with no more injury. They are one Captain Matthew Jennings, one Remy Lafayette, one Angus Ferguson and the girl Michelle Williams. If you would care to step forward, we won’t have to execute anyone.”
Well toward the back of the people who had been corralled over to the bar, Lafayette bent over to Fix and whispered, “Santelli?”
The Scotsman grunted and said to the bartender, “Sake.”
“Really?” Lafayette demanded.
“Why the hell nae?” Fix demanded. “We need to wait for Cap’n to make his move.”
“What?” Lafayette hissed.
“They only sent two men upstairs,” Fix said, eyeing him coolly. “You don’t think that Cap’n can handle it?”
2
“What’s happening?” Michelle whispered frantically.
Jennings turned away from the door he had opened a crack. “Apparently there are some other interested parties,” he muttered. “There are two of them coming this way, clearing out all the apartments.” He closed the door fully and locked it. “Quickly, take off your clothes.”
“You want to do it now?” she demanded disbelievingly.
“No! It’s a… just do it,” he said, as he took up position behind the door.
Michelle did as she was told and had just finished when the door was kicked open. There was the briefest moment of hesitation that tended to accompany most men, even the most dedicated soldiers, in the presence of a beautiful naked woman. The barrel of the man’s rifle dropped to the floor and Jennings took advantage of the distraction to ram the door back against the intruder. There was a cry of pain as the rifle clattered to the ground and Martinez stumbled back into the doorway. Jennings slammed the door a second time and felt the brief satisfaction of the wood slamming into Martinez’s nose. In one fluid motion, he scooped up the dropped rifle and started to bring it to bear on the second man. Roma was faster though. He brought his rifle down on Jennings’ head, sending him sprawling, and he then kicked Martinez’s rifle out of his hands. He brought the rifle down two more times to make sure Jennings was truly unconscious, before turning to study the girl.
“Get dressed, Ms. Williams,” he said softly.
As soon as she was back into her skimpy waitress outfit, Roma beckoned her out the door with the rifle. “Mr. Sciavella, I’ve got the girl and Captain Jennings up here. Jennings is unconscious.”
Sciavella nodded to two of his men and they headed up the stairs to help Roma. “Excellent,” he said, turning back. “Two down. Two to go. I’m afraid my time is almost up. So, I’m going to start shooting the ladies here as I already have the one that I want if Mr. Lafayette and Mr. Ferguson don
’t show themselves. I’ll give you ten seconds.”
Lafayette turned to Fix and said, “Now what?”
“Interesting tactic from the Cap’n,” he muttered in reply. “We could take’em.”
“Without getting all these people killed?” he hissed.
“Nope.”
“I guess we have no choice,” Lafayette sighed. “We’re right here,” he called out as he got off his bar stool and pushed his way through the crowd. Fix followed, still carrying his cup of sake.
Sciavella’s eyes narrowed. “I had friends on the Brigandine,” he said.
“Your friends were wankers,” Fix retorted. This earned him a slug in the gut from Sciavella’s meaty fist.
“A small down payment on the torture that Mr. Santelli is going to bring to you,” Sciavella said.
“Is that before or after he’s done shagging his sister,” Fix said. This time he was sent sprawling by a fist across the face. “You made me spill my sake, tubby,” he grumbled as he tried to pull himself to his feet.
Sciavella grabbed him by the shoulder, intending to yank him up so he could pound on him some more, but Fix was far faster. He grabbed hold of Sciavella’s wrist and pulled himself upward, drawing his pistol at the same time and sticking it in the gangster’s throat. Fix had him rotated around as a human shield before the others could even react.
“Drop the weapons or I drop him,” Fix growled.
There was no reaction from Santelli’s men, so Lafayette slowly made the move to draw his own weapon. As he brought it to bear, he felt a horrific burning sensation in his fingers as the pistol was ripped from his grasp. From the stairs, Roma had a pistol trained on him. The man was a good shot to take his weapon right out of his hand and leave him mostly intact.
“Let him go,” Roma said. “Or I kill your Captain,” he added indicating the blood-soaked man propped between two more of Santelli’s goons.
“Do nothing he says,” Jennings rasped.
Fix allowed a second to pass and Roma dropped his pistol down to Jennings’ knee and fired. The captain’s left leg buckled and he fell forward, rolling all the way to the bottom of the stairs.
111 Souls (Infinite Universe) Page 13
