Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two

by Williams, Christopher

  Aaron glanced around, unsure of which direction the buzzer was coming from. Several moments passed and he got the distinct impression that the receptionist was not in a hurry. Finally, a door behind the counter opened and a man stepped through. Aaron resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

  The man had a diseased look about him. He was short and thin, so thin as to appear anorexic. He was pale and his skin was covered in pockmarks. His eyes were off-white and his few remaining teeth were a dark yellow. “Yeah,” he called out, stopping short of the counter.

  “I have a room reserved,” Aaron said. The thought of switching hotels was appealing to him more and more.

  The man shuffled his way over to the computer and glance at Aaron. “Name?”

  “Aaron Folstom,” Aaron said, giving the alias he was traveling under.

  “How long you staying?”

  “Ten days,” Aaron said. He could always leave early, and he didn’t want to leave any clues for the murder investigators to find.

  “We require half up front,” the sickly man said.

  “Actually, I would rather pay the full amount now,” Aaron said. That should prevent them from actually knowing when he left.

  The man’s sickly eyes widened and he smiled a disgusting smile. “Of course.” He motioned to a credit reader on the front of the desk. “Just touch your voucher there and we’re all done.”

  Aaron did as instructed and there was a soft beep.

  The man handed over a small card, about the same size as the credit voucher. “You’re in room 714. Sorry, but the elevator’s broken.” He waved off to the right. “Stairs are down there.”

  While not happy about having to climb seven flights of stairs, Aaron was immensely relieved to be getting away from the receptionist.

  “Hey! Hold on a moment,” the sickly man called as Aaron started down the hall.

  Aaron stopped and turned back, resisting the urge to pull the Horace. Something about this guy just freaked him out. Aaron didn’t say anything, just looked at the guy.

  “Uh,” the receptionist began. He took several steps forward and Aaron backed away. “Listen, if you need anything, you just give me a call. I do mean anything—women, drugs, whatever, just let me know.”

  Aaron nodded his head once and then turned away. He walked toward the stairs quickly, not wanting the sickly man to follow him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the stairwell. He opened the door and stepped inside, pausing only long enough to crane his neck around and look up. He sighed; at least he wouldn’t need to worry about exercising.

  Aaron took the stairs two at a time all the way to the seventh floor. By the end his legs were burning and he was out of breath. He was pleased that he made it the whole way without stopping. Good thing the stairwell was empty as he probably would have bowled over any pedestrians before he even realized they were there.

  He stepped out into the seventh floor hall and glanced around. The hallway was as shabby as the rest of the hotel. There was a dark brown carpet that was fluffy along the sides of the hall and flattened down in the middle. The walls were a dark gray but numerous dents, cracks, and gouges stood out prominently. Lighting was provided by small sconces that were every five feet or so along the wall. Half of the sconces were burnt out, placing the hallway in a perpetual gloominess.

  Aaron wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had specifically requested a cheap and clean hotel. This place most certainly did not qualify. Hell, Susan wouldn’t even commit suicide in a dump like this. Deciding he should just make the best of it, he turned to the right and began looking for his room.

  It didn’t take him long to find room 714. He paused outside the door and took a deep breath. He wished he had changed hotels when the thought had first occurred. He could still do it, but that would mean talking to the infectious-looking receptionist; he shivered at the very thought. Sighing, Aaron touched the keycard to the reader and pushed the door open.

  “Huh,” he said, stopping just inside the door and looking around.

  The room was small but in better shape than he would have guessed. To the right was a small, round table with two chairs. On past the table were three windows, but the curtains were closed and he couldn’t see out. Directly in front of the doorway was a queen-sized bed. To his immediate left was a small closet, and the bathroom was a little farther in and to the left. It wasn’t overly spacious, but neither was it the grimy, smelly room he had been expecting.

  Chapter 15

  Aaron slept fitfully and woke early the next morning feeling exhausted. It probably was the strange bed that bothered him, but he didn’t much fancy trying to go back to sleep.

  He climbed out of the bed and stretched, trying to loosen his sore muscles. After a moment he moved over and peered through the gap in the curtains. The sun was just coming up and the city had that early-morning gloomy look to it. God, he hated mornings. He preferred to see the sun coming up as he was going to bed.

  He turned around and headed into the bathroom to take care of his morning duties. He was pretty sore and he hoped a long, hot shower would loosen his muscles up.

  One thing that could be said for his rundown hotel was that it had plenty of hot water. He stood under the scalding water thinking about his plans for the day. Obviously, the most important thing was to get out to Oldtown and check out the location of the wedding.

  The wedding was scheduled to happen at a place called Hilltop. Before the days of the Akkadian Dynasty, a small missionary was established on a small hill in Oldtown. Over the nearly four thousand years since, several small churches and temples had existed on the same spot. For the last two hundred years, Hilltop had been owned by private citizens. Hilltop was occasionally open to the public to view the grounds, but Aaron doubted that would be the case until after the Woodson wedding.

  Undoubtedly security would be quite intense in and around Hilltop. Aaron didn’t want to raise suspicions by showing too much interest in the area. But then again, it was a historic landmark, so there were always some visitors touring the place.

  There was a small safe in the wall and Aaron was surprised that it actually worked. Afraid he was making a huge mistake, Aaron locked every gun he had in the safe. While handguns were allowed in Redamor, they were frowned upon and they might draw unwanted interest his way. Still, he felt naked leaving the room without one.

  He descended the seven flights of stairs and was pleased to see the sickly man from the night before wasn’t on duty. Instead, a large, white woman now sat behind the desk. She had brown hair that hung down below her shoulders and a fat, pretty face. She wore a nametag that read “Betty.” She smiled as Aaron walked up to the counter.

  “Good morning. Can I help you?” she asked.

  Aaron returned the smile, pleased to have a different receptionist to deal with. “I certainly hope so,” he replied. “I want to take a tour of Oldtown and I imagine there are organized tours that I can sign up for. Is that correct?”

  Betty nodded. “Of course. We don’t have any that run out of here, but I can recommend several places. The best is SBV. They’re a bit more expensive, but they don’t rush you, and they even provide a reasonable lunch.” She quit speaking and typed away on her keyboard. “You’re in luck. They have a tour scheduled to leave in an hour. Want me to grab a seat for you?”

  “Please,” Aaron replied.

  Betty typed away for several moments and then Aaron had to fork over some credits to pay for the tour.

  “Done!” Betty said after a brief pause. “You’re all set. They’ll pick you up in about an hour.”

  Smiling, Aaron thanked her and headed back to his room.

  The tour was little more than a disorganized cattle call. They picked Aaron up at his hotel and he wasn’t surprised to see that he was the only one from his hotel that had signed up. There were approximately thirty other people on the tour, and they filled up a long bus. The bus was fairly nice, even being equipped with a hover system to minimize the roug
hness of the trip.

  The bus sped away from Marin Aldabia toward Oldtown. The trip took just over an hour. Before too long, all the modern buildings began to fall away. Oldtown wasn’t just the name of the city—it was also a very apt description. In Oldtown, the structures and the way of building had changed little in the last two millennia. The buildings were all constructed of white stone and rarely built higher than three floors.

  The tour was led by a short, skinny old man whose head was covered with thick, white hair. His name was Rufus and he was friendly and extremely talkative. He kept up a running monologue of history, both of the sites they were to visit and of the area the bus was passing through.

  The first stop was at an old cathedral of a long-gone religion. It was impressive; built of stone nearly two thousand years ago. The rest of the tourists showed an appropriate amount of awe and Aaron played right along. The building was awe-inspiring, but he was anxious to reach Hilltop. The tour remained at this site for two hours and Aaron did his best to fit in with the rest of the tourists.

  The second stop was an ancient empire outpost. Most of it had collapsed long ago, but pieces of the underground structure remained. Aaron was intrigued in spite of himself. He was actually almost disappointed when the call came to return to the bus after two hours.

  They ate their meager lunch on the way to their next, and last, stop. At long last they reached Hilltop. Aaron was sitting in a window seat and he scanned the hill and surrounding area.

  It would appear that the citizens of Redamor were not known for their creativity. After naming their oldest city Oldtown, they had named a monastery on a hill as Hilltop. Aaron chuckled at the thought, drawing some sideways glances from the old lady sitting next to him. He smiled pleasantly at her and she went back to observing their surroundings.

  He went back to looking out the window. Oldtown was remarkably flat, which made Hilltop stand out all the more. It was by no means a mountain, just a hill that stood higher than the surrounding buildings.

  A single winding road ran from the base of the hill toward the top. The peak was covered by a sprawling temple complex made of a gleaming, white stone. The rolling sides of the hill were covered with well-manicured gardens.

  A wall encircled the hill. The wall was stone from the ground to about three feet and then six-foot metal bars ran vertically. There was only a four-inch gap between bars.

  The bus came to a stop and Rufus stood, directing the tourists out the door.

  “Exit the bus and form a small group,” Rufus called over the bus’s intercom. It was the same procedure they had followed at the two previous sites, but Rufus continued to direct traffic like it was their first time.

  Aaron did as he was told, following the little, old lady out the door and standing in the growing, disorganized group of people. It didn’t take long for the bus to empty and Rufus to join them.

  “If I could have your attention,” Rufus called loudly, and the numerous small conversations dropped away. “This is Hilltop. This site is the oldest known temple complex on Redamor, and in fact in all the federation. A temple, of one type or another, has existed on this spot for four thousand years. Several hundred—”

  “Remain standing where you are! Do not move!” a mechanically enhanced voice called out, effectively drowning out Rufus’s last comment.

  Security personnel seemed to appear out of nowhere, surrounding the tour. There were twenty of them, each wearing body armor and carrying a plasmic carbine. Their faces were covered by helmets, giving them an alien-insect appearance.

  So much for getting to see Hilltop, Aaron thought. It wasn’t surprising. Any security guard worth a damn was going to want to shutdown Hilltop until after the wedding. It just made sense. Still, he had held out a bit of hope.

  “What’s this?” Rufus demanded.

  “Hilltop is closed for the next ten days,” one of the security guards called out. With them all wearing helmets, it was impossible to tell who had spoken.

  “Closed?” Rufus repeated. He said the word like it was foreign to him. “That can’t be right.” Ignoring the guard’s command to remain where he was, Rufus pushed his way through the tour group to face the semicircle of guards. “I lead this tour all the time. We have a contract with the owners to bring tours here.”

  A security guard in the middle of the group nodded his head, marking him as the one speaking. “That’s true, but the contract does give us the right to close Hilltop down on occasion. This is such an occasion.”

  Rufus gaped at the man, seeming lost for words. After a moment he found his voice. “Surely the contract requires some sort of advance notice. You can’t just turn away a paid tour,” he said.

  “We can and we are.”

  There was a tone in the guard’s voice that seemed to be a warning. Aaron’s eyes flicked back to Rufus, hoping the old man had picked up on it as well. Unfortunately, it appeared that Rufus had not.

  Rufus took a step forward, his face contorted in anger. His hand came up to point at the middle guard and he opened his mouth to speak, but he got the chance. The closest guard clubbed the old man with the butt of his carbine and Rufus collapsed to the ground.

  Aaron’s breath caught. Anger flared within him at the beating of an old man, but he resisted his urge to hurt the guard. He was unarmed and hopelessly outnumbered.

  Unfortunately, three men in the tour group jumped toward the offending guard. They never made it to him, as the rest of the security detail took the three tourists down, joining Rufus on the ground. The brief scuffle happened in a flash. Aaron and the rest of the tour backed away, their hands automatically going up.

  “Listen up!” the guard said, his voice carrying over the buzz of worried conversations. “I want everyone to form a single-file line.”

  No one moved, and Aaron resisted the urge to be the first. Several of the guards had glanced his way a couple of times, and he knew they were watching him. Most likely they had already marked him as one to watch, hopefully only because he was young and physically fit. He dearly hoped there weren’t any other reasons the guards’ suspicions had been raised.

  “Now!” the guard shouted, and the tourists nearly tripped over themselves to respond.

  Within moments the tourists were spread out in a long line, all facing Hilltop. Several more guards arrived and they removed Rufus and his three defenders from sight.

  Aaron hoped that nothing bad was to happen to the men, but he had more pressing issues to worry about.

  One of the security guards stepped forward. He wore a security sleeve on his right arm. The sleeve was a small computer that spanned from the elbow to the fingers and was covered in small buttons and electronic displays.

  The guard started at the far left end of the line and began waving the security sleeve over each of the tourists in turn. The first ten or so such examinations proceeded smoothly. That all changed when the guard reached a large man in his late fifties. The guard waved the sleeve over the man’s chest and there was a loud beep and one of the displays blinked red. Immediately two guards stepped up behind the man, the guns pointing at his back.

  “Are you armed?” the guard wearing the security sleeve asked.

  The man hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, but it’s legal—”

  One of the guards behind the man nudged him with his carbine. “Step out of line. Our commander will have some questions for you.”

  Wide-eyed, the tourist obeyed.

  Aaron knew they were still watching him; something about him must have set off one of their engrained alarms. He resisted the urge to smile or sigh in relief, but he did say a silent prayer of thanks that he had left his handguns back in his room.

  The security guard continued his slow trip down the line, pausing in front of each person to wave the security sleeve over them. Two more times the alarm went off, and two more tourists were led away to meet the “commander.”

  At last the security guard stopped in front of Aaron. The guard paused, looking
Aaron over, then he waved the sleeve over Aaron’s body. No alarms—absolute silence. The guard blinked; it would seem he had been expecting a different result. The guard waved his arm over Aaron again, but the result did not change. Reluctantly, the guard moved on.

  Aaron’s jubilation at being unarmed disappeared. The guards had paid him way too much attention and that was worrisome. Undoubtedly they would remember him.

  Aaron was still wrestling with his troublesome thoughts when the guard completed the scan of the last tourist and stepped back.

  Another guard stepped forward. “As you have been told, Hilltop is closed for today. I don’t suppose any of you wish to argue the point?” He looked up and down the line, but no one said anything. “I thought not. Take your seats on the bus and wait. If everything checks out, the rest of your group will return momentarily.”

  Aaron boarded the bus with the rest of the tourists. He returned to his seat and they sat in silence. Two guards boarded the bus with them—one remained in the front, while the other stood at the rear.

  They waited just over ten minutes for the others to return; in all that time, no one said a word.

  Aaron used the time to stare out the window, taking in the layout of Hilltop’s defenses. Temporary defense shield generators were being installed every fifty yards along the wall. Aaron recognized them for what they were; they generated a shield that would surround the Hilltop grounds. A person on the outside would not be able to fire a plasmic at a target on the Hilltop grounds.

  Aaron noticed a large crate farther in among the trees and his eyes widened. Based on the markings the crate contained ground-to-air missiles. It would seem that Woodson’s security detail was doing their best to try to think of everything.

  He was still lost in thought when Aaron noticed a small group approaching the bus. It was Rufus and the six detained tourists. His jaw tightened as he watched the tour guide having to be assisted along. Several of the tourists were bruised and bloodied as well. They climbed on the bus and took their seats.