by Adam Smith
Nick grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter 23
Suit Up
Nick’s apartment was on the nicer side of town, where people rarely shot at each other and most disputes were settled without bloodshed. Still, iron bars covered every window, and Nick had to unlock three deadbolts before he could open the front door and invite Max and Kate inside.
Max had seen the apartment many times but it was a first for Kate, and she paused at the threshold. Beige carpets squished underfoot as she removed her boots and set them next to Max’s and Nick’s heavier tactical footwear. Bare white walls without a hint of decoration greeted her everywhere she looked. Furniture was limited to a long plastic folding table along one wall holding a computer with multiple monitors, a television, and several disassembled firearms. Exactly two folding chairs rested at cocked angles to the table. Beside the table and wedged into the corner sat a black guitar and amp.
Hesitantly, Kate walked further into the living space. In an adjacent room through an open archway Kate spotted one twin-size bed against a wall and a single dresser. Above the bed hung a rack covered in swords of every style and size. Down a bare hallway to the left lay a small bathroom, or so Nick casually informed her with a wave of his hand.
The kitchen was cluttered with plastic shopping bags but was otherwise empty. One coffeepot was the lone occupant of an entire countertop, with not even a toaster visible.
In silence, Kate stood and surveyed the apartment. In a firm voice she announced, “This looks like a serial killer’s lair.”
Both men looked confused. “What’s wrong with it?” Nick asked.
Kate set her shopping bag down against a wall and ticked points off on her fingers as she glanced around Nick’s apartment. “Empty kitchen, folding table and chairs, bed in the complete open, bare walls, no furniture for guests.”
“Hey,” Nick said defensively, “I bought two chairs. Two.”
“And,” the blonde baker paused to sniff the air, “the whole place smells like garlic.” Kate sighed and looked at Nick with pity. “Do women scream and run when they see your apartment?”
“Not… all the time,” Nick answered.
“Uh huh. Well, just saying, maybe a house plant or something. Heck, even a carved tombstone would liven this place up because at least it would show some kind of long-term habitation. My sisters are gonna freak when they see how depressing this place is.”
“Nick’s depressing serial killer’s decoration sense aside,” Max broke in, “we need to gear up for the mission. You said your family will be here in one hour, but we need to head out before then. Time’s a-wasting.”
“I do not have a serial killer’s decoration sense,” Nick grumbled.
Max walked into the adjacent room and flipped up the bed skirt under the twin mattress. From underneath the bed he drew out one long plastic case after another.
Nick did the same in the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out boxy plastic containers.
Kate looked confused but grabbed one of the chairs and sat down to watch the two men work. When they’d pulled out all the boxes they gathered them in Nick’s front room at the table.
Nick started reassembling the firearms on the table as Max opened case after case to reveal they were packed with guns. Pistols, revolvers, rifles, and shotguns were laid out on the living room floor until the carpet looked like a metal quilt of destruction.
The smaller, boxy containers from the kitchen contained thousands of rounds of ammunition for each type of firearm. Kate tried to lift one box and found herself straining at the immense weight.
“Hey, Nick,” Max complained, “where’s my favorite?”
“Uhh. Hm.” Nick surveyed the firearms, but apparently didn’t see what he was looking for. Then he snapped his fingers. With his left foot the black-haired cop reached up and kicked one corner of the folding table. A hinged compartment dropped into view underneath, and Nick plucked out an enormous chrome-plated pistol. “Here you go, Max.”
Max took the gleaming pistol in his hands. The grin on his face was the same one Kate had seen plastered across her little nephews’ dirty faces when they found a particularly large frog or nasty new treasure.
Nick was still assembling firearms. “So, Kate,” he began without looking up from his work, “you’ve been running with the Bloody Rain. What’s that been like for you?”
“’Bloody Rain’?” Kate asked. Max was starting to love the adorable way her blonde eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “What’s that?”
“Max’s nickname in the media. ‘Bloody Rain Cain’. He’s killed so many dirtbags that the news crews gave him his own alias.”
“That’s not fair,” Kate pouted. “I’ve killed just as many dirtbags today as Max has. I want a cool nickname.”
Max, loading rounds into various magazines, looked up at her with an earnest expression on his face. “How about ‘Sweetbuns’?”
Nick chuckled. “You’re a baker, right? How about ‘Death’s Baker’?”
Kate responded with a cheerful smile. “Ooh, I love that. Great! What’s your alias, Nick?”
Max snickered, and Nick pointed a finger at him in warning. “Don’t.”
Kate looked back and forth between the two men. “What?”
Max choked back his laughter. “The guys on the force, we have a name for him.”
“Max, come on,” Nick pleaded.
“Okay, buddy. Okay,” Max sighed and went back to reloading.
“Oh, you can’t just not tell me after that,” Kate protested.
The black-haired cop sighed, and his shoulders slumped in resignation. “They call me Ballroom.”
Kate looked confused again. “So? I don’t get it.”
“It’s how I got it,” Nick said. “I was on the range shooting, and the pistol jammed. I went to clear it—”
“And the round went off!” Max burst out, then started laughing.
Nick looked sheepish. “It was my first day on the force, and I was nervous, so I forgot basic safety. The round ricocheted back and forth between the ceiling and floor a couple of times.”
“And there’s Nick in the middle, hopping back and forth on each foot in the most ridiculous poses!” Max continued to guffaw. “Looked like he was working out an improvised waltz.”
“And ever since,” Nick sighed, “I’ve been stuck with the name Ballroom. Oh, don’t you start laughing, too!”
“I can’t help it,” Kate giggled, “it’s just the mental image!”
After the laughter, everyone settled back into the task of preparing for the mission. Nick fetched a few knives from his dresser drawers and handed them out, saving three of them to strap to his own person, one on his belt and another into each boot.
Kate watched the two men as they began to load themselves up with leather harnesses and holsters. Each man strapped a long-gun over his right shoulder, Max a shotgun and Nick an automatic rifle. Each draped pairs of handguns across his body, one set over the chest and another hanging at the hips and strapped down against his thighs.
When she thought she had the hang out most of the buckles and straps, the baker began suiting up as well. Max helped her into some of the trickier harnesses.
“No body armor?” Kate asked.
“Outlawed,” Max sighed. “City council declared it was unfair for cops to get protective gear when civilians don’t, said we needed to even the odds if there’s an altercation while off-duty.”
“That’s idiotic,” Kate complained.
“Yep,” Nick agreed. “Thank your local government.”
The three slipped loaded magazines into empty spots on harnesses and belts. When each person was loaded down with the maximum weight they could handle, the remaining magazines were scooped into black duffel bags.
“Now the big guns,” Max said, and Nic
k grinned.
Nick went into his bathroom and returned with a hefty black grenade launcher and a large plastic case. He handed the case over to Kate. “Bunch of grenades in here, so don’t drop it.”
At his warning, the baker’s face turned pale. She nodded and held the case delicately in front of her with both hands.
“That little beauty should get us past the front defenses,” Max said. “Our force keeps up on satellite scans of crime lord properties in case we ever need to move against them.”
“And you just happen to remember the layout on Papa Sal’s estate?” Kate asked with surprise.
Max shook his head. “I spent a lot of time studying the weaknesses of all potential targets in case we got the chance to move against them.”
“Some men have hobbies,” Nick said, “and others have obsessions. Max has been preparing for this war for a long time.”
The three put their boots back on and left. Nick locked the apartment and stashed the key under the mat for Kate’s family to use.
As they descended the stairs, Nick took a deep breath of the fresh night air and looked up at the sky. “Beautiful sunset tonight. Look at all that red.”
“Gonna be a lot more red splashed around real soon,” Max said.
All three armed combatants loaded into Nick’s black SUV, the two men up front and Kate in the middle with the duffel bags, grenade launcher, and grenade case.
Nick turned the key to start the SUV. Instead of the engine roaring to life, a hologram projected from the dashboard and displayed an aluminum-wrapped burrito hovering in the air. Dramatic big-band music poured from the speakers.
“Hey, Nick,” Max complained, “you didn’t pay to unlock ad-free startup?”
“What kind of money do you think I make, man?”
Trumpets blared, and as the music swelled, a woman’s sensual voice cut in. Max recognized the same purring announcer from the monorail advertisement. “Are you hungry right now? Of course you are, baby. We’re all hungry for that one thing in life, the treasure we need to be satisfied. Well, look no further for your personal fulfillment. Introducing the Bangalore Blitzkrieg!”
The aluminum foil peeled back on its own, and a sudden invisible mouth took a gaping bite from the holographic burrito. Internal mixings spilled upward into the air in defiance of gravity. Max peered closely at the mixings in growing horror. “Hey, Nick, is that—”
The woman’s husky purr cut Max off and confirmed his suspicions. “The Bangalore Blitzkrieg is a mega-size chapati wrapped around two pounds of beer bratwurst and sauerkraut soaked in our special curry sauce! It sure satisfies me. Mmm!” The announcer moaned in ecstasy. Max guessed the tone was intended to instill desire in the audience but hearing the contents of the mixture made his guts churn in anticipatory heartburn.
Somehow, the announcer still sounded enthusiastic about the monstrosity she was peddling. “The Bangalore Blitzkrieg is so good, only a culinary sociopath could have invented it! And,” a husky laugh, “of course you’ll want the standard bucket of fries. Bite the hologram to have a Bangalore Blitzkrieg drone-dropped to your car window as you drive. Go on, you know you want to, baby!”
The woman’s husky voice gave way to an authoritative tone as she belted out the company slogan: “Taco Burger, Jr. Shut up and eat it!”
The ad finished and the SUV engine roared to life. As Nick turned onto the main street and sped into traffic, Max’s stomach growled. “I’d kill for a lot of reasons,” Max said, “but that ad got to me, and right now I’d especially kill for a burrito. Think we can stop on the way?”
Nick frowned. “Papa Sal has to know we’re coming. We couldn’t help the time it took to prep, but every minute we wait means another layer of fortification we have to fight through.”
Kate leaned up between the seats and fixed Max with a worried look. “My sisters should reach the apartment soon, but every second we waste means they could be hunted down.” Her big blue eyes twisted Max’s gut with guilt and quieted his hunger… for the moment.
“Okay, you’re right,” Max said. “But come Hell or high water, I’m getting my burrito tonight.”
“Right,” Kate agreed. “First we just have to storm a crime lord’s palace and slaughter his private army. That should help you work up a real appetite.”
A few minutes later, the three sat in the idling SUV at a crossroads in front of Papa Sal’s gated property. Night had fallen during the drive over, and street lights splashed the crossroads with twisting shadows. The road stretched to their left and right, but their vehicle was pointed straight at the black iron gates.
The property inside the gates was brightly lit, but a sharp right turn showed nothing except tall hedges ahead. Through the iron fence and stone pillars stretching a mile in each direction, all Max could see was thick brush ten feet high which disrupted any scrutiny from the outside world.
“I hope you guys like greasy meatballs,” Max said, “because before this is done, I’m gonna roast Papa Sal.”
Leather squealed as Kate dug her fingernails into the back of Max’s chair and pulled herself forward. When the blonde baker whispered, Max felt every breath from those plump pink lips brush his ear. “Whatever it takes to protect my family, Max. I’ll follow you into Hell if need be. Lead on. Let’s kill these bastards.”
With a roar of fury, Max slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The engine of the SUV roared in response and hurled the heavy vehicle toward the iron gates.
Chapter 24
Have Fun Storming the Castle
With a rending screech, the SUV slammed the iron gates.
Nick had invested time and cash into the vehicle and had the front reinforced for just such an occasion, so the grill held up under the impact. The gates strained to hold against the intruders, but the sheer force shattered the locks and hurled broken iron shrapnel in all directions.
A paved private road began just inside the gates and swerved immediately to the right. Tires screeched on pavement as Max threw the SUV into the hard turn at top speed. Branches on the tall hedges scraped the vehicle as they made the turn with only inches to spare. Behind them, from a hidden guard booth, Max heard a man shouting at them to stop.
He ignored the guard.
Max yanked the car back onto the narrow road and flicked on the bright high beams. Nick’s upgrade included headlights akin to floodlights, and the dark property burst into dazzling visibility. Manicured lawns stretched to both the right and left as far as Max could see, and the narrow road twisted around rocky landscaping features before winding its way up to Papa Sal’s mansion a mile away. Hedges ringed the entire property and shut out the world.
Any deed done in this private compound would stay sealed within the grounds. Papa Sal’s army would see to that.
Spotlights lit up the opulent mansion from the outside and sparkled off plate glass windows and towering minarets rising from the edges of the structure. Max spotted battlements merged with sloping gables and wondered what madman had designed the private palace. So many different styles and cultures merged into one unified structure left a dazzling impression.
Rage surged through Max. His fingers tightened down on the steering wheel until it creaked in protest. “This guy makes his fortune as a predator feeding on the citizens of San Pajita. And here I’ve been eating instant noodles for a month! Time to level the field.”
Two of the piles of landscaping rock swiveled in their direction. Moonlight gleamed on the barrels of artillery pointed straight at the SUV.
“Nick!” Max shouted.
“On it, Max!” The black-haired cop dropped his window and leaned halfway out with the grenade launcher braced against his shoulder.
Thunder roared across the grounds as the machinegun emplacements poured fire down on their position. Max threw the SUV into a weaving pattern and left the driveway behind in an effort to evade the bullets.
Grass flew as their tires shredded the lawn. Screaming bullets hurled chunks of sod high into the air as the gunners swiveled to track the intruders.
A metallic burp filled the car as Nick launched his first grenade. The ordnance exploded dozens of yards wide of his target.
“Get me closer,” Nick shouted over the roar of machinegun fire and landscaping explosions.
“Are you crazy, man?” Max shouted back. “Those emplacements will eat us alive!”
“Don’t you know me at all, Max? This baby is armored. Think of her as a stylish LAV. She can take a pounding!”
“You crazy bastard,” Max yelled as he spun the wheel and aimed the vehicle at an angle to one of the swiveling emplacements. “If you get us killed, I’ll kill you!”
Bullets slammed into the side of the armored SUV and jostled the occupants against their seats. Kate was screaming something in his ear, but Max couldn’t hear her over the continuous pounding of metal on metal. Where the bullets hit the windows, deep pockets of cracks appeared, but the upgraded glass held under the onslaught.
Nick poked his grenade launcher back outside of the car. Through a hail of bullets, he took careful aim before squeezing the trigger. Another metallic burp thumped against Max’s eardrums as the explosive projectile hurtled away into the night in a perfect parabolic arc.
Seconds later, the machinegun emplacement erupted in a blossom of fire and shrapnel. A secondary explosion burst forth a moment later as artillery inside the turret exploded.
“Yahoo!” Nick pumped the grenade launcher overhead as he shouted in triumph before ducking back inside the vehicle.
The second turret came into view. Gunfire splattered against the driver’s side of the SUV. Max’s window clouded over as bullets chewed away at the reinforced glass.
Nick stuck his head back out the window and took aim over the vehicle. His shot landed right inside the emplacement, causing another chain of explosions. Chunks of landscaping rock flew across the palace grounds as the turret was reduced to a smoking ruin.
