“Close the door,” Ben said with a smile. “We don’t want anybody to overhear, now do we?”
Aaron obediently closed the door and then sat down in the chair on the right. “Listen—”
Ben waved him to silence. “Don’t waste my time denying it,” he said. “I can tell you’re up to something; I just don’t know what it is.”
Aaron didn’t reply; instead, he just watched Ben.
Ben smiled. “So what is it? Planning on robbing the wedding?”
Aaron said nothing. He tried hard to minimize his movements, not to blink or move his head. It was like a card game; he didn’t want to give any visual clue as to whether Ben was cold or hot.
“No, perhaps you’re going to kill someone at the wedding?”
“Perhaps I’m going to kill someone in this room,” Aaron replied. It wasn’t an actual threat, but Ben was making him uncomfortable and he just wanted to level the playing field.
Ben tilted back his head and laughed. After a moment his mirth subsided. “I suggest you rethink whatever it is you have planned,” he said.
Aaron tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Are you threatening me?” he asked.
Ben blinked in surprise. “By no means. I’m trying to warn you. That bastard Woodson is not to be fucked with. If he catches you, he’ll kill you, and I don’t mean fast. Then he’ll track down anyone who’s ever mattered to you and kill them too.” He shook his head. “No, I wish you luck in whatever it is you’re doing, but I think you should know what to expect if you fail.”
There was something in Ben’s voice that seemed just a bit off. It took a moment for Aaron to realize what it meant. “Are you speaking from personal experience?” he asked.
After a brief pause, Ben nodded. “Yes. I had a cousin who worked for Woodson a long time ago. He crossed Woodson somehow, I’m not even really sure what he did, but he turned up dead. His wife and kid died in a fire. His brothers and sisters died in strange ways. Some of the more distant family lost their jobs or had their businesses shut down.” He paused and looked up. “Rethink whatever it is you have planned and stay away from that wedding.”
“So will you sell me some of those robes or not?” Aaron asked, ignoring the unasked-for advice.
Ben sighed. “You’re a stubborn man, aren’t you?”
Aaron’s answer was a mere nod.
After a moment, Ben returned the nod. “Fine,” he said.
Aaron returned to his hotel much later than he had from the tour. It had taken several hours to find the tube station and then another hour to make it back to his room. He was tired but also excited. For most of the day he had been afraid that he was wasting his time, but the clothing might just be the thing he needed. He certainly hoped it was, as he intended to scout closer to Hilltop tomorrow.
He lay down on his bed, tired from the day’s activities. He meant to just rest for a moment and then go get a late dinner. That was the last thing he remembered for a long time.
Chapter 17
Aaron woke the next morning, a little stiff but refreshed. He took a long, hot shower and then dressed quickly. He wore similar clothes to the those he wore the day before, but this time he carried a small pack; the brown robes were rolled up and hidden away within. His plan was simple: once he reached Oldtown, he would throw the robes on over his clothes and reconnoiter the area around Hilltop.
He retrieved both of the small Oliver handguns from the safe, placing one in a holster on his right ankle, and the second in a holster underneath his left arm. He would have liked to take the Horace, but it tended to stand out a bit.
It was still early when he left the room and he descended the stairs quickly. Entering the lobby, he caught sight of Betty and she waved him over to the desk.
He smiled as he walked up. “Yes?” he asked.
Betty returned the smile. “I heard back from the hotel manager,” she said a bit breathless. “He said they would be willing to refund a third of your tour cost, but they won’t go any higher. Don’t forget the tour also refunded a third of the cost.”
Aaron was surprised. He hadn’t really expected even that much. He knew the typical tourist thing to do was to argue for more, but he couldn’t care less. “Why, thank you so much for your efforts,” he said, meaning it. “I really appreciate all you did on my behalf.”
Betty practically beamed at him.
Another guest approached the counter looking for help, and Aaron excused himself.
He exited the hotel and headed for the tube station. He intended to walk straight there but the grumblings of his stomach pulled him up short. He’d eaten dinner in the late afternoon and not a bite since. It was time to remedy that.
He stepped into a small store and purchased a local fruit drink and a pastry the size of his hand. He then continued his trip to the tube station, eating as he went.
The tube ride back to Oldtown was uneventful. He emerged from the same tube station as yesterday, but this time he went more northerly, intending to visit the area around Hilltop.
Walking slowly, Aaron played the part of a tourist—stopping to look at various stupid things along the way.
After about thirty minutes, Aaron spotted a small alley that was partially obscured by shadows. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and, satisfied that nobody was paying him any attention, he quickly stepped into the alley.
The alley was narrow with the buildings on either side towering over it. In addition, piles of garbage made it even more difficult to see far back into the alley.
Aaron stopped behind a fairly high pile of garbage and opened his pack. He was careful not to drop the brown robe into the muck.
He emerged from the alley several minutes later—his robes were on and his hood pulled up. The hood hid most of his head but still allowed him to see.
He continued his slow walk in the direction of Hilltop. The hood obscured his ability to see to either side and behind him, but he wasn’t overly worried.
The first hint that he was getting close was when a transport loaded down with security guards roared past him.
Aaron pulled up, surprised that he been lost in his own thoughts. He had to remain alert or he could get into real trouble. He looked around, just now realizing that there were less pedestrians on the streets and some of the shops were closed.
Aaron moved closer to the buildings and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He knew he was going in the general direction of Hilltop, but he wasn’t sure exactly how close he was. Twenty yards farther down the sidewalk he spotted a guidepost. Reaching it, Aaron glanced over the map, surprised to see he was less than a mile from Hilltop.
Judging from the map, the sections of Oldtown on the western side of Hilltop were a bit more affluent, while those areas on the eastern side were more rundown.
Aaron stepped away from the guidepost, heading northeast. He walked slower now, keeping an eye out for any more patrols. He spotted a couple but only at a distance.
Less than ten minutes after leaving the guidepost, the area became noticeably more rundown. Each block seemed to be worse than the last, and there were even fewer people about.
By his estimation, Aaron was about half a mile from Hilltop—that would be the approximate range for him with a sniper rifle. He knew that some snipers could kill at nearly two miles, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t shoot that far even if he used a modern sniper’s rifle. And he didn’t intend to use a modern rifle; he intended to use the antique he found in the outfitter goods.
The idea had occurred to him after he took the tour bus to Hilltop. The shield generators around Hilltop would deflect shots fired from a modern rifle but were useless against an ancient, solid-projectile-firing rifle.
In order to fire the old rifle, Aaron thought his upper limit was half a mile. He would prefer to be closer than that, but he felt confident at that range. Now he just needed to find a place where he could take the shot.
Aaron moved north and then began to turn northwest when he
came across what he had hoped to find. It appeared to be an old, three-story hotel. Like all the buildings in Oldtown, the outside was made of white stone, but the building appeared to have been abandoned a long time ago. There were signs of a fire in the past as well.
He walked past the building and turned down the small alley beside it. The alley was dark but not too dark that he couldn’t see. Aaron moved along the alley and soon came to a side door. It had been locked once upon a time, but it had been kicked in ages ago. The door was hanging on by one hinge. He glanced around once and then stepped through.
The inside of the old hotel was dark and smelled horrible. It had the unmistakable smell of burnt wood and urine. Aaron drew the small Oliver from his shoulder holster, just in case he was invading some squatter’s home.
He moved farther into the structure, looking for the main stairs. It didn’t take long to find them or what remained of them anyway. The stairs had gone up in the fire, as had a good portion of the front center of the building. Aaron stopped and looked up, seeing all the way through to the sky. He paused only momentarily and then moved toward the rear of the building, looking for the rear stairs.
The place was a mess. The fire had gutted most of the center of the building and large portions of the upper floors were gone.
He never found the back stairs, but he found a spot against the back wall that he assumed must have been the kitchen. It was wide open and covered in debris, and the second floor was gone above his head. In the back corner he came across a rope dangling in a tight, metal chute. His best guess was that it had been part of some sort of dumbwaiter system. He tugged hard on the rope and was pleased that it didn’t give. He holstered his gun and began the arduous climb.
It took Aaron a few minutes to reach the second floor opening. He slid the door open and looked out of the chute. The second floor was gone, having collapsed a long time ago. He closed the doorway and continued climbing.
He quickly reached the third floor and slid its door open. At least the third floor appeared intact. With his mouth suddenly dry, Aaron placed one leg out the door and onto the third floor. He kept a tight hold on the dumbwaiter rope and pushed hard on the floor. Nothing—it didn’t creak or give the first sign of weakness. He exhaled deeply and slid the second leg out through the opening. He kept a death grip on the rope and jumped up and down three times. The floor held.
Slowly, Aaron let go of the rope and took a few tentative steps away from the chute. The floor still seemed sturdy. He began searching the third floor, looking for a good vantage point where he could see Hilltop.
He was still looking when he noticed an opening in the ceiling. He jumped up and grabbed each side of the opening, pulling his head up to get a better view. He was looking into the attic. Intrigued, he pulled himself up the rest of the way and knelt hunched over in the cramped space.
The attic was unfinished, but it seemed in better condition than the third floor, at least in the back of the building. It took about ten minutes to maneuver his way around to where he thought he should be able to see Hilltop. He put a small hole through the roof and got the most magnificent view of his target.
Smiling, Aaron pulled a small monocular from his pocket and used it to examine Hilltop. It looked like it had two days ago except there was even more security than before. He scanned the area, looking for any changes from what he had seen that day of the tour.
“This will do nicely,” he said. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t spoken. The building seemed to reverberate with his words and he froze. After a few moments he relaxed again.
He sighed, looking back the way he had come. He still had to go back down that damn rope.
Aaron made it out of the hotel in about thirty minutes and he headed directly away from Hilltop; trying to put as much distance between himself and the security forces as he could. After about a mile, he turned his steps more toward the south and headed for the tube station. He had a plan now and he needed to pick up some supplies.
It took an hour to reach the tube station and then another hour to get back to Marin Aldabia. He had removed the brown robes and returned them to his small sack.
Exiting the tube station, Aaron considered returning to his hotel room first and dropping off the robes but decided against it. He thought it easier to get his supplies and perhaps some dinner, then return to his room early. He wanted a good night’s sleep.
Aaron rose early the next morning and took the tube back to Oldtown. It was still dark when he left the station heading to the old hotel he’d discovered the day before. He wore a half-filled backpack and carried a duffel bag over his right shoulder. He wasn’t looking forward to the next few days, but he felt it gave him the best chance of completing this job.
He walked faster than normal, counting on the darkness to hide his movements.
He reached the burnt-out hotel without incident just as the sun was rising. Once again, he drew the small Oliver handgun and stepped through the side door.
He suspected that someone, or perhaps multiple someones, were living in the old hotel, but, if so, they had already left for the day.
He made his way to the dumbwaiter and climbed back to the third floor. It was slower going than yesterday as he was more weighted down. But he reached the safety of the attic and tossed his supplies down, sighing deeply.
Aaron moved over and looked out the small hole he had made yesterday. Hilltop looked like a mound of ants as people were already scurrying around the grounds.
He looked around the small attic, his plan simple. He would remain in this attic for the next four days. He had enough supplies to get him through and it wouldn’t be the first time a corner of the hotel would be used for a bathroom.
He sighed again, knowing the next four days were going to drag by.
Chapter 18
Susan stood at the base of the cargo ramp watching the customs officials exit the Long Shot’s landing bay. Their inspection had gone both smoothly and quickly. They had arrived without a cargo and an open hold always tended to speed up inspections.
She had been immensely relieved to hear that there would not be an outgoing inspection. It seemed that the officials inspected everything brought into the spaceport and assumed that all cargos that made it to a ship were cleared for launch. That suited Susan just fine. It wasn’t her crew’s responsibility to get the PG; it was their contact’s responsibility to deliver it to the ship. If their contact got pinched trying to deliver contraband, well, there was no way for the officials to implicate the crew in any drug smuggling—at least that was what she hoped anyway.
They made the trip from Redamor to Fort Wade in just over three days. There was plenty of time to get the cargo loaded and get back to Redamor. In fact, it was looking like they would need to intentionally slow down on the way back. They wanted to land the day of the wedding, pick Aaron up, and take off. They did not want to be sitting in the spaceport a day or two early. The last thing they wanted was to raise any suspicions.
“How soon till they’re here?” Russell asked.
Susan glanced over at him, pleased to have him so close. He was playing the part of second-in-command, and he was doing a good job. She’d known that Aaron always felt a reassurance when she was around and she was beginning to appreciate it all the more.
“I don’t know,” she said in answer. “Richard said they would get in touch once we landed.” She hated this part of the deal. They were expected to sit here and wait for Bailey’s drug contacts to deliver the cargo. It made her nervous placing her trust in drug smugglers. She had to suppress a chuckle at the thought that her entire crew was now drug smugglers.
“I hope they don’t wait too long,” Russell replied, “seeing how we’re on such a tight schedule and all.”
He still didn’t know about Aaron’s mission, but she knew he suspected something. He’d asked her a couple of times, but she’d refused to give him the details. As far as she was concerned, it was up to Aaron to tell him.
“I
don’t want anyone to leave the ship,” she said. “I want to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.” She paused and then added, “And close up the cargo ramp. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us.”
Russell nodded. “I’ll pass the word about staying on the ship. Anything else?”
Susan didn’t answer right away. She had started this trip thinking it was going to be easy, but now she was getting worried. Drug smugglers were not known for their honesty and trustworthiness. After a moment, she said, “Yeah, pass out the Logans. I want everyone carrying one of the handguns when our contact arrives.”
Two hours passed and Susan was beginning to think their contact wouldn’t show up after all. Perhaps they had been pinched by security trying to get into the spaceport, or maybe they were just planning on coming the next day. She so dearly wished she had a firmer schedule. They would have to wait at least a day before they took off, just to make sure that their contact wasn’t just playing it safe. She wasn’t worried about the lost day of waiting, although it would stress her out to no end. What she was really worried about was returning without their cargo. Bailey wouldn’t care; he’d just given them the smuggling run to appease Aaron. Without the cargo, they had no legitimate reason for returning to Redamor. If Aaron successfully assassinated Woodson, any ships landing and taking off on the same day would draw intense scrutiny. That scrutiny was what really bothered her if they left without a cargo.
She was brooding in the mess hall, wondering how Aaron ever stayed sane. It felt like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She would be immensely pleased once Aaron returned to take back command. If he ever returns, she thought, and that worried her. If anything happened to him, what would she do? She’d never realized how much she depended on him. It was more than that though, more than just wondering where she would live and what she would do.
Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two Page 14
