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

Too stupid to live…

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

finally, they get it. Eyes

running the

Fuck…

make after them, and there,

Finchby…

Gotcha!

me coming and he brings up his pistol. He’s way too slow,

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

Got the bastard!

his weight pressed against the collar at the front of his neck, it’s got to be cutting off his

catches up with me. “Want

here is

like a piglet that

Which it is…

fuck up, Finchby. I’ve not done anything to you yet. If you annoy me now, we might move on to that

the hair, examining his face. “If you want

Ever the pragmatist…

and Finchby drops to the ground, landing heavily and on his

want to carry him away? Knowing I'd have thought you would have...” James points two fingers at

I would. But Baxter's not here and I need to know where he is. I’m sure our friend here will

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

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

takes the opportunity to kick

said…” He looks down to Finchby again, his mouth pinching… “I don't want nothing to do

Hickman. You were

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

that. Hickman, it seems to me that you're out of a

glumly. “I'd

do you feel about

eyes spark,

“Yes, me.”

almost to

tape, string, anything you can lay your hands on to get this bastard

thinks, then, “I'll try his office.

pipes up. “While you're there pick up

pauses, microscopically, looking

you take orders

“Yes, sir.”

I check my watch. “We only have

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