Acts of Violence

by Ross Harrison

After a disappointingly short cry of pain, he rolled. Tried to get on top of me. I used my legs to try to throw him back down. But he was on me and I didn’t have enough room to kick or knee him. I punched him in the eye. Then the throat. That second punch put him out of action. He slumped to the side, gasping and coughing.

  I realised that he’d been lying on his gun. Now it was beside him, so I grabbed it. Flicked the safety on. Then slammed the butt into his temple.

  He lay still. The aching from my shoulder seeped into my consciousness. The pulsing in my knee. The stinging across my palm. I sat beside him for a minute. The gunfire inside continued. I knew I had to go, but I’d used up most of my adrenaline in that short fight.

  A car horn sounded. Then two more short blasts. I turned, reaching my thumb for the pistol’s safety again.

  I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or not. The car whined to a stop just behind Webster’s.

  ‘Get in, Mason,’ DeMartino called through the open window.

  TWELVE | DRIED UP

  As DeMartino accelerated past the front door, I looked in. I saw at least one more dead body in the lobby. One guy was running for the door and firing up at the balcony. In the second it took to pass, I couldn’t see if it was one of Webster’s or one of the newcomers.

  ‘So I heard about this shootout in a tunnel in the middle of the city,’ DeMartino said, flicking his cigar ash out the window. ‘Involved Cole Webster’s men, I heard. So I thought to myself: “Nathaniel, who would Cole Webster’s men be shooting at in a tunnel in the middle of the city?” And would you like to guess whose face popped into my head?’ I opened my mouth. ‘No, not my mother’s. “Jack Mason,” I thought. “That’s who they’d be shooting at.” So I paid you a little visit at home.’

  I looked at the time on the dash. Two minutes past eleven. My clever bedside lamp trick hadn’t even had its chance to work yet.

  ‘You didn’t answer the door, so I thought you must be having a nap. Surely, I thought, you wouldn’t have snuck out of the apartment and past the cops. Not after giving your word that you’d stay put.’

  ‘I don’t remember that.’

  ‘So imagine my surprise when I see, just a couple of blocks along from the very same tunnel, Jack Mason all slouched down in the back of a cab.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure it was quite a shock. Do you want to know what I found out or not?’

  DeMartino hesitated. ‘So now you want to talk?’

  ‘Perhaps. Depends what you’ll give me in return.’

  ‘An open ear?’

  ‘How about not sending me off to Anshan?’

  ‘Oh, well, that would depend on what you have to say, Mr. Mason. I like you. I’d rather not put you on a train to the execution block, or whatever they use here. But unless you have something good for me…’ He shrugged.

  ‘How about a data chip that shows exactly what Cole Webster’s been doing down there in his so-called mining operation? That details the girls he sells off, when and to who.’

  DeMartino glanced over at me. As though he was trying to see if I was kidding. He stared in silence at the road ahead for about a minute. Then looked at me again. ‘Whom.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Off the record, Mr. Mason, I don’t think you did anything particularly horrendous to the girl. Other than subjecting her to that mess of an apartment. Why do you think I let you keep the gun?’ His eyes flicked down to my coat pocket, where I thought I’d manage to hide it without him seeing.

  I wondered if I really did have an ally in him. I couldn’t afford to trust him completely. But without his help, I wouldn’t find that data chip. And by the looks of it, Webster’s change in direction, whatever that was, had brought a war to Harem. We had to be quick, or a lot of people could get hurt. Things would get out of hand and the cops wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. Even if they tried.

  ‘So where is this data chip? I assume it would be too simple to just hold out my hand and you give it to me?’

  ‘Well, that’s the small problem,’ I admitted. I was thinking about the cigarettes in my pocket again. I wanted one, but I couldn’t be bothered moving anything more than my mouth. Even that was getting tiring.

  ‘Let me guess. Either it’s somewhere safe and secure from people like us. Or you don’t know where it is.’

  ‘Both, probably. But definitely the second one.’

  ‘I see.’ He flicked his ash out the window again. Some blew into the back seat.

  ‘Webster implanted the chip into the girl, Leonne—”

  ‘Oh, you learned her name.’

  ‘She thought she was helping his competitors, but really it was his off-world partners. They’d scan the chip and it would give them everything they needed for a smooth transaction.’

  ‘Girls?’

  ‘Yeah. Lots of girls, by the sounds of it. Well, maybe guys as well, but he probably uses them himself in the mines. Not just from Harem. There’s too few here. He buys them in and sells them on, too. Trades them like stocks or something. That’s what was cut out of her. But not by Webster’s guys. He wants the chip too. He doesn’t know where it is. I suspected Little Dick was trying to make a move behind his back. I doubt even he would be stupid enough to keep the chip at home. Not when he lived with Daddy. So whether I’m right or not, it doesn’t give us any leads.’

  That was probably the most I’d spoken all night. And not an ounce of sarcasm. I lowered the backrest and lay back. Closed my eyes.

  ‘And what about the drugs? Were you right about that?’

  ‘I was making that up.’ There was a light snort from his direction. ‘I had to give you something or you’d have sent me straight off to Anshan.’

  ‘Well, all’s well that ends well. And if we find that data chip, it will end well. For me. Not so much for Cole Webster. We should probably leave Detective Lawrence out of this for now,’ he added after a moment’s thought.

  He fell silent again. He was right. Lawrence would be sore that I was out freely walking the streets. We couldn’t allow that to get in the way of taking down Cole Webster. He could be brought in once we had the data chip and all the evidence we needed.

  I let my mind wander into that warm, fuzzy state just before sleep. He said ‘we’. That meant he probably wasn’t taking me straight back to jail. In which case, I didn’t really care where he was taking me. It seemed like my time limit had been extended.

  My mind was abruptly sucked back into clarity. ‘Who were those guys in black trench coats? They said their boss didn’t like Webster’s new direction.’

  ‘Must be enforcers from Webster’s off-world partners.’

  ‘And I bet they’re the ones with the data chip. I think I know someone who can help. He hears about most of the comings and goings in Harem.

  ‘Okay, where are we going?’

  ‘Club WET.’

  *

  As soon as we pulled up at the corner of the block, we knew something was wrong. The giant sign was dark. No bouncers stood at the door. No secretaries or cowgirls undressed themselves in the windows.

  ‘This time of night, a place like that should be in full swing,’ DeMartino said. He’d picked up on the trouble before me, due to the fact that I was dozing.

  I grumbled an agreement. This wasn’t good. This club pulled in a lot of money every night. No way Van would have shut it down. Nor would Webster. That left just the black-coated newcomers.

  ‘It’s Webster’s partners. They’re taking over. Looks like they’re starting on this side of town, where there’ll get less resistance.’

  ‘But why shut the place down? If they’re taking over Webster’s businesses, surely they’d keep it running.’

  I had a notion. I really hoped I was wrong.

  ‘There’s a back entrance,’ I told him. ‘You’d look too fancy going in the front. No one would believe you’re a customer.’

  I opened the door.

  ‘Let me get this straight, Mr. Mason,’ he said, placing a fir
m grip on my elbow. ‘You’re going to walk in the front door. Pretend you’re a customer looking for a dance. Then when they tell you to turn around and leave…you’ll start shooting, right?’

  ‘I figure there’s quite a discrepancy between the amount of lead sprayed around today and the number of times I’ve squeezed a trigger. I was nearly packed off to Anshan to be executed because of Webster and these assholes. Still might be, if this doesn’t go right.’

  DeMartino thought for a few seconds. Then let go of my arm. ‘Even if I were to deputise you or something,’ he said as I climbed out into the rain, ‘it wouldn’t be official until I sent off the right forms to my bosses.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I told him, reaching into my pocket. ‘I’m already a detective.’ Pulled out my badge.

  ‘Mr. Mason, have I told you I like—’ I slammed the door.

  As I waded through the inches of cold water in the street, I reached inside my coat. Clipped the badge onto my jacket’s breast pocket. There was a slim chance I could talk my way inside as a dirty cop looking to get on the good side of the new boss. They’d probably have more important things to worry about though, so I carefully checked how many bullets were in the gun. It was the same model as all of Webster’s men seemed to use. Sixteen in the clip. One in the chamber. My black-coated goon hadn’t taken a shot at the Lakeside Rooms. I pulled back the hammer. Left the safety on. Slid the gun into my coat pocket and kept a good grip on it.

  I felt pretty good. Which was strange. I wasn’t jumpy now. Wasn’t nervous. Sure, there were some nerves. I was about to walk into a club full of an unknown gang’s enforcers after all. But I felt like me again. Now I knew what I was aiming for. And I guessed now the threat of Anshan and a needle was almost gone, I only had idiots with guns to worry about. At least I could shoot back at them.

  Unknown gang. No, that made them sound too small time. These people were highly organised criminals. More like a corporation than a gang.

  There was a flash in the distant sky. The storm was still raging outside the city. It was still a bit windy in the street, but the worst was gone. The rain still blurred my eyes and trickled down my neck.

  I reached the first of the windows, where the holographic cowgirl had stood earlier, tipping her hat to me. Now behind the glass was nothing but a five foot deep enclosure painted dark red. I walked as far as the door. Looked up at where the sign should have been.

  With a deep breath, I stepped up and pushed the door. It was locked. I wasn’t surprised, but I acted it. I rattled the door a few times, as though confused. Cupped my hands against the glass to try to see through. All I could see was black. I was sure there’d be someone on the other side watching me though.

  I pulled my jacket open on the left to show my badge. Banged on the door with my fist. Not too hard, in case some kind of security system was active. I waited. The rain pattered on the sidewalk and in the shallow river flowing along the road. It didn’t calm me, but it didn’t emphasise my nerves this time either.

  I was about to bang on the door again when I heard a click on the other side. The door opened inwards. A bald guy stood there. He didn’t wear a black trench coat, but he did wear the same suit as the guys from the Lakeside Rooms. Maybe I’d been wrong about the suits being cheap. Close up, they looked pretty fancy to me. A nicely threaded black jacket sat over a grey shirt. The black tie was diagonally crossed every few inches by silver lines.

  ‘Come in, Jack,’ he said. His voice was smooth. Deceptive.

  It was then I noticed that some of the black on his jacket wasn’t fabric. He held a gun tight against his side so it wouldn’t be seen by anyone but me. And, of course, it was pointed straight at my gut.

  ‘If this is a bad time, I can always come back,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not a bad time. In fact, we’ve just finished up here, so it’s perfect timing.’

  He stood aside. But not far enough that I could run without getting a bullet for a midnight snack. I had no intention of running. I stepped inside.

  ‘Can I take your coat, Jack?’

  ‘Why? Yours is so much nicer.’

  The door clicked shut and I heard him lock it. I timed my own click to coincide with the lock. It was just me and him. That should have made me happy. It didn’t. People like this didn’t take risks. They didn’t allow themselves to be overconfident. So if just one guy had come to the door, that meant he was good. Meant he probably didn’t need the gun to kill me.

  He would insist on taking my coat next. Maybe he’d pat me down first. Either way, in about thirty seconds, I wouldn’t have my gun any more. So I shot him.

  He hadn’t heard the click of the safety over the door’s lock. His own safety was off too, but the first bullet tearing through his kidney was quite a surprise. He didn’t even pull the trigger. Just in case he changed his mind at some point before dying, I shot him again. The second bullet found his heart. Or near enough anyway.

  I was wrong, though. The door behind me burst open. It was the door to the little room where the girl in transparent underwear had stood. The guy hadn’t been alone.

  An arm wrapped around my neck. At the same time, a strong hand gripped my wrist to stop me pulling out the gun. The left arm squeezed and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. My head began to feel tight, like it was being pumped full of air. I didn’t have long.

  I only had one hand free. I could try pulling his arm away. I could try punching the arm or throwing a punch over my shoulder and hoping it hit him. Maybe I could find his eyes and push my fingers in. But the most effective method that popped into my head was simpler.

  I wrapped my hand around his forearm. Just up from his wrist, I dug my four fingers in on the underside, just past the bone. With my left hand reached round to my right side, I couldn’t get a particularly strong grip, but it was enough. I heard the low, harsh groan as he gave into the pain. He released his grip, but I held mine.

  As I turned to him, his arm started to twist the wrong way behind him. My other hand was out of my pocket already. Instead of reaching back in for my gun, I thrust two fingers into the soft, upside-down triangle between his collarbones. Then I hooked them back round. The cry of pain came a lot louder this time, through gritted teeth. He couldn’t resist though, and collapsed. Because of the way I was holding his arm, he went down on that side and ended up on his back. With no more grip anywhere on him, I punched him before he recovered. His head bashed the floor. After a small bounce, it settled back down and he didn’t move.

  I laughed. Not so much at the fact that I’d just killed one guy and, since the floor was tiled, potentially a second. More at the fact that they hadn’t killed me. And that my little bit of self-taught kung fu had actually worked. I’d seen it while flicking through channels a few weeks ago. After being a little overeager in trying out the collarbone thing on myself, my screech of pain had brought two of my neighbours to the door. One of them was already shouting the address through a comm channel to the cops.

  No one else burst through any doors. I picked up both enforcers’ guns. One went into my waistband and the other into my left coat pocket. Then I took out the pistol I’d already used. Fifteen bullets left in it. Hopefully I wouldn’t even need that many, let alone the other two full guns.

  I didn’t know where the other staff door led. Probably the basement. Where only VIPs went. The main doors were probably being watched, but that’s where I had to go. I looked through the window the girl had been behind. There was no other door into the main club.

  One option was to wait here until someone came to investigate. Of course, if these two were the only enforcers in the place then I could be waiting a long time. DeMartino would come in the back way at some point, so I could also wait for him. Neither of these options appealed to me though.

  I went to the double doors. They seemed to be thick wood. I couldn’t conjure up a picture of what they’d looked like open. I couldn’t really risk that they were thick and strong enough to stop bullets.

&nb
sp; There probably weren’t many more inside the club. Whatever they’d done here, the club didn’t have much security to resist. The bouncers were employed to keep drunks and perverts under control, not shoot it out with a small army of mafia enforcers, or whatever the hell these guys were.

  A thought struck me and I hurried back to the open door. Inside were two light switches. One turned on the light in the little room. The other turned off the light out in the reception area. I turned off the other again and went back to the double doors.

  Trying to stay quiet, I lowered myself all the way to floor, flat on my stomach. From down there, I slowly pushed the left-hand door open. I pushed it until there was about a centimetre gap to peek through. The club was quite dim. Only a few lights were on. Clear enough to see properly though. There were the tables on the raised platform. There was the glass enclosure down in the central area. Empty now. That was all I could see through my centimetre. I couldn’t see any enforcers in that section.

  There was a waist-height wall between the raised platform and the central area. If I didn’t get shot the moment I went through the doors, I could take cover there. But would it be taking cover or getting myself pinned down? I guessed that depended on how many guys were in there.

  As slowly as I’d opened it, I let the door close again. Then I rolled to the other side and did the same procedure with the right-hand door. The view was pretty much a mirror of the last. Except this time, there was a guy crouched behind one of the tables. He wore the same kind of suit as the bald guy lying behind me. Same tie.

  With the light out here switched off, and the dim lighting inside the club proper, the enforcer couldn’t see that the door was slightly open. With that knowledge, I watched him for a minute. He seemed to be getting more and more tense. There’d been two gunshots and then a cry of pain. Then silence. Their people hadn’t called the all clear, so he had to assume something unpleasant was going to come through these doors soon. But the longer the doors stayed shut, the more agitated he became. The same would go for anyone else in there with him.