In Icarus' Shadow

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In Icarus' Shadow Page 20

by Matthew Jones


  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Jason leaned back in the gigantic leather chair, his feet coming to rest on the desk's smooth surface. He let out a long, contented sigh and reached back to dial up the volume on the stereo resting on the table behind him. Life was good. To think that, almost two weeks ago, he had been a nobody. Then last week's fiasco had happened and he was sure he was going to be in real trouble. Tyrone must have known it wasn't his fault that that girl had gotten away, he rationalized. He must have cut him some slack when he sent him on to help those guys casing the rooftop that double-crossing mercenary was supposed to have been on. Brown or whatever his name was. Well, one man's welching on a deal was another man's lucky day! He'd shown those 'professional' types already there a thing or two. Who would've thought to find that gun-for-hire's stash in a fake ventilation duct?

  Nobody but me, that's who, he thought to himself with a grin.

  And sure, maybe it had looked like he had found it by accident, but he'd known all along where to find the goods; Tyrone's other boys on the scene were just sore losers. Sure, he had stumbled a bit on that bit of piping and yeah, okay, he had needed a hand to get unstuck from the vent after going in head-first, but who else had the guts to roll up their sleeves and get things done? It had paid off, too. He'd found Brown's stuff just sitting there at the bottom of the vent, as neat and tidy as you please. The boys had pulled the bolts out of the roof and checked over the mercenary's gear; a cellphone, some fancy custom rifle and a couple of other odds and ends for his job. Jason hadn't really paid much attention, he'd been arguing with the one Tyrone had left in charge about who would get credit for the find.

  All of that aside, it was pretty clear who had gotten the recognition they deserved. It wasn't that other guy sitting in Tyrone's chair and keeping an eye on his office while he took care of business downtown, no sir. Things were going to be different for him from now on, he could feel it. His ship was coming in and all he had to do was get on board to cruise his way to the top. He could almost picture new recruits cowering before him like they did for Tyrone; he drew himself up to loom as best he could, but frowned as he saw the desk obscured most of him. How did Tyrone make it look so small, anyway? Maybe he could get one built smaller than normal, so he would look bigger?

  He was startled out of this train of thought by a knock on the door; rising from his recumbent position, he moved to answer it, pausing to see who it was first.

  "Who's there?"

  There was silence for a moment, followed by a quiet cough. Jason was about to ask again when the person on the other side answered; a woman by the sounds of it, with a breathy quality to her voice, the sort he always imagined a model would have. "Oh, I'm sorry to bother you. I got a call to come by and keep the man watching Mr. Burgess' place company."

  Jason, having just finished pumping his ego full of hot air, grinned widely. Ah, this was the life. Prestige. Responsibility. His peers were already sending beautiful women to his door; it was only a matter of time before the money started rolling in. He started fumbling with the lock, while doing his best to sound like the suave, important man he was picturing himself to be. "Well come right on in, sugar, it has been a little lonely holding down the fort all day." Finally getting the locks undone, he opened the door. "Let's see if you look as good as you-ARGH!"

  His 'suave' look clearly had not had its intended effect; the first thing he had seen upon opening the door was a can of aerosol about an inch from his nose. Now he saw nothing at all as he fumbled blindly for the woman who had been holding it, cursing loudly as his eyes burned. His hands weren't finding much, however, and it occurred to him that he should close the door. He turned to do this and instead felt something hard connect with his forehead; the floor caught him on his way down and he almost gratefully surrendered himself to unconsciousness.

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