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!”

get the message. Another

Too stupid to live…

I cup my paired hands, then... “Boom...”

get it. Eyes widen.

two running the

Fuck…

make after them, and there, running ahead of

Finchby…

Gotcha!

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

red-faced, spluttering, panicking… I plant my fist in his

Got the bastard!

against the

catches up with me. “Want

Our friend here

understatement. Finchby’s squealing like a piglet that knows it’s

Which it is…

done anything to you yet. If you annoy me now,

“If you want him able to speak, you’d better not strangle him. You’re crushing his

Ever the pragmatist…

Finchby drops to the ground,

Knowing I'd have thought you would have...” James points

know where he is. I’m sure our friend here

him by arms and legs, bodily, James and I drag him towards the door, kicking and struggling

the stairs, Hickman, apparently on his way out, but as

on Finchby, I straighten up. Finchby takes the opportunity to kick

his torso. “Hey, I'm not looking for trouble. Like I said…” He looks down to

bastard, Hickman. You were being

that, I wasn’t. You told me I was to help you with…” He meets my eye, shrugs. “Sorry, Mr Klempner.

to me that you're

nods glumly. “I'd say you're

you feel

eyes spark, head

“Yes, me.”

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

me rope, tape, string, anything you can lay your hands on to get

then, “I'll try his office.

there pick up

microscopically,

working for me, you take

“Yes, sir.”

check my watch. “We only

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