James

The ‘music’ is still playing, and I don’t hear the sound, but beside me, a half-empty cocktail glass shatters and Klempner, snatching at my arm, tugs me to one side. Crouching behind the bar, “That’s Finchby.”

“How d’you know it’s Finchby?”

“Because he’s a fucking lousy shot.”

“So, where’s Baxter?”

Above us, in a line on the shelves above us, the top rank of bottles shatter, exploding their contents in a multi-hued shower of liquid and shattered glass. “That’s Baxter.” Abruptly, the music cuts out…

“Thank fuck for that,” mutters Klempner beside me, inching up to look over the bar.

Another line of fire, lower this time…

Finchby’s voice. “That’s my stock you’re shooting up, Baxter…”

Klempner grins. “C’mon… They’re in the office.” His head swings. “Where’s Jenny?”

“Down the stairs. Hopefully, Michael already has her out.”

“Good. That gives us a free hand.” He checks his watch. “Right, with me… One, two, three…”

His rifle over the bar, Klempner fires blind towards the office door. It chatters then falls silent. He curses…

Out of ammo?

Jammed?

… then tugs a handgun from his pocket and fires. “Run…”

*****

Klempner

A group of half a dozen of the women mill around, seeming not to know what to do without someone telling them...

Natural slaves...

The Glock raised in my hand, “Get out!”

One blathers at me, runs up pleading, then her eyes fix on my pistol.

“Out!” I yell, pointing to the door. “Saia! Ir!”

the message. Another runs up, weeping

Too stupid to live…

down the Glock, I cup my paired hands,

they get it. Eyes widen. Screaming,

two running the wrong

Fuck…

and there, running ahead

Finchby…

Gotcha!

brings up his pistol. He’s way too slow, yelping as I slap the hand to one side, banging the

Larry…” He’s red-faced, spluttering, panicking… I plant my fist in his face and

Got the bastard!

feet. “Now move.” Dangling in my grip, half his weight pressed against the collar at the

with me. “Want a hand

friend here is

like a piglet that knows it’s

Which it is…

to you yet. If you annoy me now, we might

by the hair, examining his face. “If you want him able to speak, you’d

Ever the pragmatist…

bottom, and Finchby drops to the ground,

away? Knowing I'd have thought you would

nod. “You're right. I would. But Baxter's not here and I need to know where he is. I’m sure our friend here will be able to tell us where

by arms and legs, bodily, James and I drag

his way out, but as he sees me, he pauses, eyes dropping

the opportunity to kick out and James

He looks down to Finchby again, his mouth pinching…

Hickman. You were being

help you with…” He meets my eye, shrugs. “Sorry, Mr Klempner.

that. Hickman, it seems to me

nods glumly. “I'd

feel

eyes spark,

“Yes, me.”

straightens up, almost to attention. “What would you like me to

rope, tape, string, anything you can lay your hands

then, “I'll try his office. Be

pipes up. “While you're there pick up his laptop

pauses, microscopically, looking

working for me, you take orders from him

“Yes, sir.”

hang around.” I check my watch. “We only have six

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