by Jay Cannon
Just knowing that an Ossie was in a bar prevented fights from occurring. The rule was, if a client drew blood, the Ossie could draw theirs. Killing was only allowed in self-defense or in retaliation for someone else being killed.
The new security officer sent for Uan to be briefed on his new mission. Uan showed up about ten minutes later, eager for his assignment.
“What nastiness do you have for me?” said Uan with his gravelly voice. He stood about five foot six inches tall and weighed 110 pounds. He was very slender and didn’t have what would be considered a muscular physique. However, he could easily toss a 300-pound man across a room or jump from the ground into a third-story window.
Uan’s skin could best be described as tiger-like. It was sort of orange in color, like a bad tan, with black stripes. One stripe crossed his eyes, which were slits that could look 90 degrees to either side of his face. Ossies could thus stay motionless in the bush and observe approaching prey animals. They had acute vision and Uan could read the date on a dime 100 feet away.
Like all Ossies, Uan’s weapon of choice was the short spear. It could be cloaked while holding it next to one’s cloaked body, but was visible once extended. He also used a low-profile photon burst cannon, which he used as a sniper rifle for distant targets. He could adjust the setting on the gun to simply stun or to disintegrate a person entirely. With his acute vision, the rifle made Uan a formidable sniper without the need of a targeting scope. Uan only used his photon cannon when demanded by the requirements of a job. His preference, though, was to kill his prey with his bare hands, which could easily rip through flesh.
On top of his head Uan had what looked like a small shark’s fin. It was black and fuzzy and could be easily mistaken for hair. But it had the toughness of a rhino horn and he could use it to batter through most simple structures.
The security officer showed Uan an image of Pico after he was captured. “This mission is not that dangerous, but it’s very important. This little creature here escaped from the ship and is now on this system’s third planet. We need you to quietly kill him and dispose of the body. If he has warned others on the planet about us, you must take them out as well. Discretion is the important thing. We don’t want you starting a war. The inhabitants must not become aware of the alien presence on their planet.”
“You are sending me to kill one puny being?” said Uan with annoyance. “It’s not worth my time or talent. Why don’t you just kill him with one of your gadgets?”
“Firstly, the captain specifically asked for you. Secondly, we don’t know where he is.”
“So what do you expect me to do? Do you want me to just sit around waiting for someone to call and tell me where he is?”
“Uan, old friend,” interrupted the captain, “I’ve given you a lot of great assignments, haven’t I? Remember the chief of the Grudë clan from Malësial? You had to kill twenty of them barehanded to get out of the palace. When we transported you aboard you were covered in blood and had a shit-eating grin on your face.”
Uan smiled. “Yes, I remember that assignment well.”
“Well, this one is more important. It could impact our pay. If you want, you can kill a few bad guys while you’re down there, but be discreet. It can’t look like an alien attack. No thrusting your arm through someone’s chest.”
“I got it, captain. I will be gentle. When do I go?”
“The security officer will set you up with someone in operations to prep for the mission and then send you down. You will need to be able to communicate with people once you get there, and be able to get around without arousing suspicion. Operations will get you clothes, money, and accessories to help you blend in with the inhabitants. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble.”
“I should be fine as long as I can get back to killing something.”
“That’s the spirit. Once this mission is over you will have the money to travel wherever you like and spend the rest of your days just killing things.”
“I look forward to that day, captain.”
The security officer quickly assigned an operations person to teach Uan how to speak English with a Scottish accent, which gave him a partial excuse for his American English being less than perfect. They did not take the time to teach him contractions, but explained the concept. He was taught customs, how to eat, how to drive, building architecture, and getting around the DC neighborhoods where they believed Pico to be. The crime-ridden areas of DC were pointed out, in case Uan wanted to get involved in the crime scene.
Uan enjoyed the education because he knew it would help him blend in and be successful at his mission. He wasn’t a process person by any means, but he liked being good at his craft. It was his goal to be a first-class assassin.
After two weeks of indoctrination Uan was ready to be sent to Earth. He wore jeans, Nikes, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and wraparound sunglasses, all black, with his spear and cannon in a pouch under the hoodie. He reported to the transportation office.
“As long as you keep the hoodie and glasses on, you should be fine. There are several changes of underwear in your pack,” said the operations officer. “We’ll send you updates as often as we can about our plans, plus any information we garner that might lead you to the alien. His last known coordinates are in your UCD. If you happen to kill him right away, just sit tight until we start the invasion in case we need someone on the ground to monitor things.”
“Sure,” replied Uan. “I’d be happy to hang around a little longer. Better than being stuck on the ship. If it’s okay with you, I might go over to Afghanistan and do some sightseeing.”
“As long as you finish the job first. I don’t want my feet to become someone’s desk ornament.”
“Do not worry. I will get the alien. Just tell me where he is and I will do the rest.”
CHAPTER 22
UAN MAKES HIMSELF AT HOME
Denise took her brother to the hospital and checked him in to the drug rehabilitation program there. She stayed with him as he was examined by the admitting physician.
“Well, Dr. Mason,” she said, “what’s the prognosis?”
“It doesn’t look good, Dr. Turner,” replied Dr. Mason. “Your brother has been a heavy heroin user for quite a while. I’m sure his organs have suffered some damage. He’s past the point where we can reduce his addiction enough for him to lead a normal life. He will probably be taking some sort of drugs the remainder of his life, which probably won’t be long. I’ll have to take some x-rays and get his blood work done before I can give you any specifics. For now, let’s get some fluids into his body and get him fed. I’ll put him on a regimen of methadone to help reduce the effects of his withdrawal. Come back in the morning and we can talk some more.”
“Thanks for looking after Jerome for me, Dr. Mason.”
“No problem. You’ve certainly helped me out plenty of times.”
“Okay, I’ll drop by in the morning after I’ve finished my rounds. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” said Dr. Mason.
Denise headed back upstairs to finish her rounds that had been interrupted by the phone call from Louie. She entered the elevator she made a call to James.
“James, Denise here. You can’t imagine the day I’ve had. Can you give me the treatment tonight?”
“Of course, Denise. I’m always happy to see you,” replied James over the phone.
“I apologize for…”
“Stop right there, Denise. I don’t want to hear apologies. I just want to know what time I can expect you.”
Denise sighed. “I’ll shoot for being there by nine-thirty. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“Great. I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
***
The operations person aboard the Andrea set the transporter coordinates so Uan would arrive in the DC alley where Pico was last seen. Fortunately, Morgan had stopped going there to practice tennis after he found Pico. Now that he was playing at the sports club, he didn�
��t need to play in alleys.
Uan gives the operator the nod and the transfer was executed. After arriving, Uan circled the block, hoping to get lucky and run into Pico or to find a place to stay. He decided he was in the wrong part of town for the activities in which he wanted to engage.
Uan headed down US1 to the Carter-Langston neighborhood. He went up to an apartment building that his briefing info had indicated was a veritable den of iniquity. He stood on the sidewalk to monitor the activity around the building before deciding his next move.
“What you looking for, fool?” yelled a man walking toward Uan. He was a 6’ 3”, 275 pound black man that didn’t look interested in conversation. He was dressed in black denim pants and a black t-shirt with large white letters that read “Give me a reason!” He wore an open black leather jacket and a Bullets baseball cap with the tag still on it. Uan ignored him, not even sure what he was yelling about.
“You hear me talking to you?” the man said.
“Are you speaking to me?” Uan responded in his gravelly voice with a Scottish accent.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. What the fuck you think? You’re obviously not from around here.”
“No, I am not and I do not understand what you are trying to say to me.” Uan’s language lessons hadn’t included colloquialisms.
The man took a menacing stance. “How about I beat your ass? Would you understand that? I want you to stop clocking us and get the hell out of here.”
“I get the impression that you are threatening me with violence. If so, I need you to do more than just talk before I can dispose of you.”
The man looked shocked. “What? You can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. And if you think that goofy camouflage paint scares me you have lost your damn mind. As a matter of fact, you have just given me a reason to beat the crap out of you.” He picked up Uan and threw him against the building like a rag doll.
“That is what I was looking for,” exclaimed Uan. With a single move he popped off the sidewalk and stood straight up. “I am truly going to enjoy this planet.”
“What is that supposed to mean, you little jumping bean?”
“Let me show you.” Uan lunged for the man, grabbed him at his chest and belt and lifted him off the ground. With a spin Uan threw him over the parked cars at the curb and into the street where he was run over and crushed by a passing vehicle.
Uan walked up to the building to find out who lived there. The doorway was blocked by another large man.
“Who is the boss here?” asked Uan.
“Bo Sam,” said the man, “and he’s not seeing visitors right now.”
Uan knocked him out with a punch to the face and stepped over him into the building. He went to the top floor of the five-story building, figuring that’s where the boss would live. At the end of the hallway, two guards stood outside a metal double door.
“Is this Bo Sam’s place?” asked Uan.
“Yes. Who are you?” asked one of the guards.
“I am Uan. I am here to evict Mr. Bo Sam.”
The guards went for their guns. Uan understood their movements and attacked them. He stabbed one in the chest, did a spin, and stabbed the other one in the chest before either could get his gun out. They both fell to the floor dead. He tried the knob and found the door was locked. He lowered his hood and went at the door with his cranial fin. The door popped open with a loud crack.
Uan stood in a plush foyer with a white marble floor. Above him was a large crystal chandelier. To the left and right were little alcoves in the walls, each containing an illuminated statue of a woman. From a hallway directly in front of Uan came three men with guns drawn. Uan stepped to the side and out of sight before they could get a shot off, and cloaked himself.
Uan sliced through the neck of the first person as he stepped into the foyer. As he fell to the ground, Uan crushed the skull of the second man with the butt end of his spear. The third man saw a floating spear take out his colleagues and fired wildly. Uan stabbed him in the chest with his spear, pushing him into the next room and not stopping until his spear entered the wall on the far side of the room. He quickly removed the spear and sliced through the throat of a fourth man who stood nearby with his gun drawn, unsure where to shoot.
Uan uncloaked. To his left sat Bo Sam on a white leather couch, with a beautiful woman to each side. Bo Sam stared in astonishment.
“That was a neat trick. Are you some sort of pissed off sports fan or an assassin from some rival gang?” asked Bo Sam.
“No, I am not either one of those. I am looking for a place to stay and I like this one.”
“You might like my place, but I have something you won’t like.”
Bo Sam reached under his white coat, and Uan hurled his spear into the man’s chest. The women leapt from the couch and ran from the room. Uan let them leave. Someone entered the room behind him.
“What’s all the noise? Oh my god.” A wiry, six-foot tall man dropped the drink he was carrying on a tray. “Look, I’m just a servant. I’d be happy to help you get rid of the bodies. I can also tell you where the safe is.”
Uan pulled his spear from Bo Sam’s chest and moved toward the babbling man, wondering if he could be of service. A phone rang and the man answered it.
“Mother, this is not a good time for me. There’s some crazy sports fan about to kill me. No, I don’t think he’ll let me bring you any milk and eggs first.” The man dropped his phone as Uan lunges at him.
“I’m Calvin,” said the man, holding out his hand toward Uan.
Uan sneered. “Tell me why people keep calling me a sports fan and maybe I will let you live.”
“Your face paint or tattoo,” replied Calvin nervously. “It makes you look like a sports team fan.”
“Why not goth or punk?”
“They tend to just wear black or white makeup.”
“So what do you suggest that we do with these bodies?”
“There’s a freight elevator that goes to underground parking. We can put them in Bo Sam’s Escalade and leave it in an abandoned building a few blocks from here. The police will just think it was a rival gang that killed them.”
“I like that plan. Can we do it now?”
“Of course. I’ll get some bags to cover them when we transport them to the garage.”
“Fine. Hurry back, and do not tell anyone about me or I will have to eliminate you.”
“How do I know you won’t just kill me anyway?”
“Because you are still alive. I only kill for protection or as part of a mission. You are not planning to attack me, are you?”
“No way. That’s not even on my mind.”
“Then you are safe. Where do you live?”
“I have a little place downstairs.”
“I prefer that you live up here with me. I want you close by. There should be enough room.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“I am not being nice. I am being practical. Having you close by makes it easier for me to communicate with you.”
“Okay, I’ll get the bags and be right back.”
Calvin walked out and Uan surveyed the penthouse, which took up the entire floor. He started in the living room, which was decorated in all white. The white bear-skin rug and the white pile carpet beneath it were now soaked in blood.
The next room was a formal dining room with a large china cabinet in ostrich wood. A long ebony table was surrounded by twelve ebony chairs. The floor was bamboo. Three crystal chandeliers hung in a row over the table.
The next room had a ten-foot pool table and sixty-inch LED television mounted on the wall above a fireplace. There were two rows of four Barcaloungers each on a raised floor beyond the pool table. Built-in speakers lined the walls and ceiling.
Continuing down the hallway from the family room was a guest bathroom followed by a laundry room and linen closet. Across from the family room a set of beads covered a doorway to a huge kitchen containing two Sub Zero refrigerators
, a six-burner Wolf stove and two Miele dishwashers. Leather-covered stools surrounded an island counter with double sink and cutting area. There was loads of cabinet space, a wine cabinet for 300 bottles, and a pantry.
The remainder of the penthouse consisted of two smaller bedrooms with their own bathroom, and Bo Sam’s master suite, which had dual walk-in closets, a bathroom with a sunken tub, and a lounge area with a fifty-two inch LED television mounted on the wall.
By the time Uan made it back around to the living room, Calvin had returned with plastic bags. They placed the bodies in the bags and took them down to the garage. After loading them in the Escalade, Calvin slammed the hatch door shut and turned to Uan.
“That’s it. How about I drop off the bodies and meet you back here?”
“I would prefer to go with you. I just arrived here and would like to learn my way around.”
“That’s fine. Should I get someone to clean up the blood in the apartment?”
“Will it be okay to let others in?”
“Yes, you can trust these guys. I can pay them with money from Bo Sam’s safe.”
“Then do it.”
They boarded the Escalade and headed off to the abandoned building to dispose of the bodies.
CHAPTER 23
JEROME GETS TREATMENT
“Jerome, are you feeling comfortable?” said Denise to her brother in his room at the hospital’s rehab center.
“Yes, little sis. Thanks again for saving me from Louie. I was certain he was going to kill me. The methadone has helped a lot, but I’m still feeling withdrawal symptoms. I can’t stand having the shakes.”
“I’ll see what I can do when I meet with Dr. Mason.”
“You know these places don’t do anything for me,” Jerome complained. “It’s two months of hell, I’m out for a week, and then I’m back on the drugs. Nothing seems to be able to kill this urge inside me.”
“Jerome, I can’t have you back on the street again. Next time you might run into someone who is not as forgiving as Louie.”
