Burrett laughed, brief and quiet and genuine.
"I think there are some who would disagree with you there," he said. "But yes. Let's make this easy."
The man sitting on the bar stool behind Burrett had taken notice of their conversation, and spotted Ray's gun. Concern spread on his broad face.
"Hey… " he said, starting to stand.
Ray's eyes left Burrett for a fraction of a second, which was all Burrett needed. He lashed out with his cane, pinning Ray's hand to the counter. In the same movement, almost before Ray could shout, Burrett had taken the gun from his belt.
It took Burrett just long enough to turn off the safety for Ray to realize what was about to happen. His eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, before Burrett put two expertly delivered rounds in his chest. The thunderous sound, deafening in the tiny space, swallowed any cry he might have made.
"You know," Burrett said as the mother in the booth screamed, and the man who had been at the counter tripped over himself while fleeing to the bathroom in the back. "Your mistake was not that you were so certain what your role in this story was... "
Ray staggered backwards, a hand on his chest, expression still more surprise than pain. He tried to catch himself on the counter, and finally sank, stunned and pale, to the floor. Burrett smiled at him, genial as ever, while he casually checked the chamber of Ray's gun.
"Your mistake," he said, as he took aim between the young man's eyes. "Was in assuming that you knew mine."
Jayne was already halfway across the walkway to the donut shop before the shots rang out. She'd started running the second she'd seen Burrett move and already known she was going to be too late. She could still hear Merry shouting at her from the car. But Burrett was about to kill someone, if he hadn't already. He was in a small room with innocent terrified people, and there was clearly nothing keeping him from killing all of them.
She slammed through the door, gun in hand and Cameron a step behind her, before Burrett could fire again.
Burrett looked up, his expression one of pleasant surprise. His gun was still pointed at Ray, who didn't seem to be conscious, and his hand was steady.
"There you are, Jayne," he said. "I was wondering when you were going to stop hiding in that car and come say hello."
Jayne felt a chill run down her spine and tightened her grip on her gun, already trained on the old man. She tugged her mask down quickly.
"Drop the weapon," she said firmly. "Move and I will shoot you."
"I wouldn't suggest it," Burrett said lightly, tapping a finger against the barrel of his gun. "Unless you aren't particularly fond of your friend on the floor here."
Jayne hesitated, glancing at Ray. He didn't have much longer if they didn't get him medical help immediately.
"You know, I haven't had a chance yet to thank you properly," Burrett said. "For helping me escape. I really couldn't have done it without you."
Jayne didn't take the bait, remaining silent as Cameron carefully moved behind her. He was circling slowly to try and get between Burrett and the woman and child cowering in the booth.
"Of course," Burrett went on. "I was less pleased to learn you had killed Chamberlain. As you can imagine, I was rather looking forward to doing that myself!"
He laughed casually. Jayne swallowed and squeezed her gun harder to hide the tremor in her hand. But Burrett's keen eye saw it anyway.
"Was he your first?" Burrett asked, his lightning perception seeing straight through Jayne. "Ah, that explains why it's taken you so long to find me. I was beginning to think you weren't as good at this as I thought you were. Tell me, Jayne, do you dream about him? Do you see his face on the street? Is he haunting you the way he haunted me?"
"Drop the weapon," Jayne said, louder than before, trying to hide how she was shaking. "There's nowhere to go, Burrett."
"Very little in this life is certain Jayne," Burrett said, shaking his head. "But I can assure you of this. I will never allow myself to be imprisoned again."
He moved, quick as a snake striking. Jayne's finger twitched on the trigger, but she didn't pull it. Burrett pointed his gun at the woman in the booth, who shrieked, sheltering her son with her body.
"Hold still please, ma'am," Burrett said without taking his eyes off Jayne. "I would hate to miss."
Inside, Jayne screamed at herself to fire, to put Burrett down. But her body wouldn't respond. She was frozen.
Burrett pulled the trigger.
Thunder roared, the woman in the booth screamed, and horror washed through Jayne like ice water.
Her training kicked in, replacing her conflicted instincts. Protecting the civilians came first. She let her weapon fall to her side, turning to the woman in the booth, and Burrett vaulted over the counter and away through the kitchen door. Jayne lingered just long enough to see that Burrett's shot had missed the woman almost entirely, intentionally, and struck the back of the booth beside her. It had barely grazed her.
Cameron was kneeling beside Ray as Jayne turned to jump over the counter.
"Jayne, wait!" Cameron shouted after her. Jayne ignored him, bolting through the empty kitchen and out the back of the donut shop. A grimy alley greeted her, pollution fog rolling through it like blood through a vein. Her eyes began to water immediately and she fumbled for her mask, coughing. Which way had Burrett gone? She scanned for some sign, choosing a direction nearly at random.
But a hand grabbed her shoulder almost before she'd taken a step. She whipped around, almost hurting Cameron before she recognized him.
"Don't," he said, muffled through his mask. "You won't catch him."
She knew he was right, but adrenaline still hummed in her veins, demanding she do something. She looked away, and Cameron tightened his grip on her shoulder.
"There are hurt people in there that need your help," he said, shaking her a little.
Jayne cursed under her breath. She let Cameron drag her back inside.
Cameron sat with Ray as they waited for the ambulance to arrive, while Jayne did her best to comfort the three panicked patrons of the donut shop. She was straightforward and careful not to sugar coat anything, but she managed to get a smile out of the little boy. Jayne high-fived him and walked towards Cameron. She watched the EMTs shake their heads as they spoke with Cameron and loaded the unconscious Ray into the back of the ambulance. She wanted to comfort Cameron, who looked ashen and lost, but she had no words that could help him right now. She was almost as lost herself.
"How is he?" Jayne asked, almost afraid to know. Cameron was quiet for a long moment before he answered.
"He's not going to make it," he said finally. "They’re putting him on life support until his family can fly in and say their goodbyes."
Captain Gold seemingly appeared out of nowhere, as if teleported there by the power of his own rage. His choice words for Cameron added some color to the otherwise dreary backdrop of the tragedy that had just transpired.
“I don’t care what the fuck Ray was thinking, Cameron. It doesn’t matter at this point! Ray is now deader than my dream of retiring and never having to look at your insubordinate, sorry-ass face ever again. I don’t give a flaming shit what your reasoning was. You knew better than to put him on this case.”
“He wanted to prove himself.”
“Well he sure as god damn shit proved something, didn’t he?”
Cameron had been chewed out before. In situations like this, it was best to keep your mouth shut. He stopped talking back.
Captain Gold adjusted his belt. He looked down and massaged his temples. He was too furious to look Cameron in the eyes, but he continued as calmly as he could. “If you don’t catch this guy, and I mean alive, your ass is getting demoted so fast you’ll wish you had a job scrubbing shit out of toilets in the Level 10 Precinct. Is that damn clear to you, Cameron?”
“Yes sir.”
“Let’s clean this mess up.”
Jayne's stomach twisted itself into knots of guilt. An officer dead, a civi
lian injured and a child traumatized, the precinct pulled into a mess they had no legal jurisdiction to be involved with… Cameron would be lucky not to lose his job, and it was her fault. She should never have asked for his help.
Outside the shop, curious people gathered, wondering what had happened. Jayne scanned their faces, searching always for the one she knew couldn't be there. Chamberlain stared back at her from the eyes of a dozen strangers.
+++
Somewhere Not Far Away, L12, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros
Burrett watched Jayne scan the faces in the crowd. He was disappointed she didn’t spot him, but he knew the face that truly haunted her would not appear.
He left the crowd quickly, but he did not bother to run. The fog split around him like the sea around the prow of a ship. The buildings crowded close and high, the heat oppressive, the humidity deadly. He did not glance behind him. He would barely be able to see anything through the smog anyway, and he didn’t even have a mask on to hinder his sight. His ears were carefully alert to the sound of pursuing footsteps. He was almost disappointed not to hear them. Burrett lit a cigarette in defiance of the thick unbreathable air.
Jayney’s going soft, Burrett thought to himself. A detective? Really? She was slipping. If this was to go according to plan, he would need to more properly motivate her. If the fear of dead men was holding her back, perhaps fear for the living would help her overcome it.
Burrett was thrilled. His urge, the itch in the back of his mind, the desire to destroy had met its muse. Jayne was good. She got him out in the first place. He knew he owed everything to her. His entire future, the future of this city and beyond, all credit went to Jayne. Burrett turned a corner down a one way street.
Jayne was a worthy opponent. Burrett had been stalling, unsure of his next move. Now he had a competitor and, most exciting to Burrett, a student.
Damn, he thought. It wasn’t even him she wanted to stop. Burrett’s academy training in psychological profiling kicked in. It was like riding a bike, impossible to forget. Jayne didn’t want to stop Burrett. She wanted to undo her own mistakes. Chamberlain, he knew. But also letting him go. Burrett laughed. What a wonderful thing, he told himself, knowing Jayne was tortured by her good deed.
One block ahead, a police cruiser turned the corner and started hovering toward Burrett. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t even nervous when the cruiser pulled up and stopped alongside him with an open window.
“Hey, fella!” The cop casually leaned out the window.
Burrett stopped and smiled. “Yes, Officer?”
“Where’s your mask?”
Burrett shrugged a laugh. “Oh, you get used to it down here.”
“I bet. Got a light?”
“No, found this one in my pocket already lit.” Burrett laughed as he flicked the ring on his index finger. A small blue flame rose from the top. He held it out to the cop who lit his cigarette.
“Thanks. Wife hates this.” He took a relaxing drag. “So I smoke when I’m on patrol. I tell her I got a partner who smokes like a chimney.”
“It’s the little lies that keep a marriage happy.”
The cop laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? I lost my lighter at this donut shop up a ways. Awful.”
“Oh, my goodness. What happened?”
The cop took another drag and his eyes went a little hollow. “This old psycho shot an officer.”
“I wish I could be surprised. But nothing good happens down here.”
The cop nodded. “Apparently this guy’s a big deal. You ought to get home, old man. It ain’t safe right now.”
“Don’t worry about me, Officer. I’m just up the block, here.”
“Well, alright then. Thanks for the light. And I know you might think you’re okay, but you really should wear a mask in this smog.”
The cop drove away.
Burrett casually waved. “What a rube,” he muttered under his breath. He turned and continued on his way.
Ahead of him, the railing of the walkway was broken, rusted and bent. With the ease of familiarity, he lowered himself over the side until he found the hidden ladder beneath with his foot. He descended deeper into the fog, his thoughts still full of Jayne, and all the plans that depended on her. But first, he wanted to know what exactly was going on in her idealistic little brain.
+++
Reaching To the Future Clinic: Physical Therapy and Prosthetics, L47, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros
“Okay, squeeze this.” The Doctor placed a stress ball in the palm of Damien Calhoun’s robotic arm. He squeezed it effortlessly and released. The thick foam ball returned to its natural shape.
“Good!” The doctor marked the successful test on his tablet. “Now let’s toss it up and catch it.”
Damien tossed the ball into the air and caught it. He tossed it a couple times and didn’t drop it once.
“Alright, that was great. Now, can you just give a little snap for me. Like you’re keeping a beat.”
Damien snapped his titanium alloy thumb and forefinger. A sharp, CRACK of metal on metal, a microscopic sonic boom.
“Now that’s what I call a prosthetic limb. You shouldn’t have any more trouble with that arm. But, if you do, your bill for today will cover any repairs and adjustments that you may need in the next two weeks. So any trouble, any problems, make an appointment. Don’t put it off. Any questions?”
“Not from me. I’m just excited I can play piano again.”
The neuro-integration software in Damien Calhoun’s arm was due for an upgrade anyway. The doctors had told him it’d be a few years before a system check was necessary. “You came in just in time,” the Doctor had told him. “Another month and that arm would have totally shut down. Been beyond repair.”
The response time of each mechanical digit was incredible now. The hand almost seemed to anticipate every movement Damien wanted to make. He could make a fist, give a high five, or flip someone the finger with his prosthetic faster than with his real hand.
At the desk, Damien signed his alias, Gavin Turner, on the health insurance forms and walked out of the hospital. It was a rare moment of low smog, and Damien welcomed any opportunity for fresh air.
He took out his comm and, with a few quick swipes orchestrated by his new hand, a taxi was on its way.
While his comm was out, he checked the news.
First he saw it in the Theron Times ‘Officer Shot, Others Wounded in Botched Sting.’ The Techcropolis Free Press declared ‘Escaped Convict Murders, On The Run Again’. The Lower Level Luminary, a radical and tongue-in-cheek publication, put their own distinct spin on the event: ‘Cop Struck Down in Line for Donuts’.
Damien quickly pored over each and every article. He calmed down only slightly when he could not find any mention of a young woman. He was happy Jayne was safe. He couldn’t help but feel an affinity, an admiration, for her fearless pursuit of what she believed was right. Even if the mess was her responsibility, he was still rooting for her.
The taxi pulled up in front of the doctor’s office. Damien put his comm away and slid into the back seat. “Inland Post Apartments, Level 50, please.”
The cab sped away from the curb.
The cabby eyed Damien in the rearview mirror. “Nice weather, right? Couldn’t believe it when I looked out my window this morning.”
“I’m enjoying it while I can!”
“Good thinking, report says these upward drafts are coming back. They’ll bring up the smog from the lower levels for the next couple weeks.”
“Too bad.” Damien wasn’t in the mood to talk. For some reason this cabby made him feel uneasy.
“You see the news? About the cop who got shot last night?”
A chill went down Damien’s spine. “Yes, I did.” He looked out the window and realized the cabby had taken a wrong turn at least a mile back.
“I always love reading some good news. Don’t you, Damien? Or is it Gavin now?”
Burrett smiled at Damien in the rearview, al
lowing his whole face to be seen in its reflection.
Damien took a deep breath, and straightened his posture. He swallowed his nerves and stayed calm. “What’d you do with the cabby?”
“I found this cab in the lot. Hotwired it. I was waiting for you to come out of that doctor’s office. Your arm is looking mighty good these days, friend.”
Burrett slowed the cab to a stop and lowered it until it was hovering a mere foot off the street.
“Is this our stop?” Damien had all but resigned himself to the situation. He knew there was rarely any other choice around Burrett.
Burrett’s answer was opening the cab doors with the switch at the console. Damien stepped out. L47 was one of the safer, more gentrified levels in Theron, but leave it to Burrett to find the creepiest, most out of the way and inaccessible abandoned hell-holes one would ever dare of dreaming up.
“This used to be a frozen yogurt shop. I think it was called the Fro-Zone. It got shut down when the police discovered three bound and gagged young women in the utility closet. They were high society trust fund types, you know? Huge media shit storm. The owner kidnapped them for no apparent reason. He didn’t touch ‘em, and never asked for a ransom. Even though they had rich parents! Never asked for a single credit. He kept them alive on nothing but frozen yogurt. Probably the first time hostages ever gained weight.” Burrett laughed as he led Damien around to the back entrance. “He eventually let them go and turned himself in. No more Fro-Zone.”
A familiar sight greeted Damien. Burrett had turned the shop into one of his ever-changing hideouts, created to be abandoned. He had his sleeping bag, a multi-level police scanner, and a small stockpile of weapons. Nothing but a Kelvin Soft Gun and a couple thermo-blades of various sizes.
Burrett shoved Damien backwards into a chair. “Take a seat.” He grabbed a chair for himself and sat facing him. It almost felt like a job interview. So, why do you think you’re an ideal candidate to work at The Fro-Zone? Do you have food handling experience? Any kidnapping experience? Do you know how to tie a zip snare knot?
But instead Burrett opened with the last question Damien expected. “How are you, my friend?”
Expelled (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 1) Page 52
