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!”

they don't get the message. Another runs up, weeping

Too stupid to live…

I cup my paired hands, then... “Boom...” I open them up.

get it.

running the wrong

Fuck…

them, and there, running ahead

Finchby…

Gotcha!

way too

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

Got the bastard!

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

catches up with me. “Want a

friend here is

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

Which it is…

up, Finchby. I’ve not done anything to you yet. If you annoy me

back by the hair, examining his face. “If you want him able to speak, you’d better not strangle him. You’re crushing

Ever the pragmatist…

shame.” I release him, top and bottom, and Finchby drops to the

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

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

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

Hickman, apparently on his way out, but as he sees me, he pauses, eyes

Finchby takes the opportunity to kick out and James cuffs him on

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

bastard, Hickman. You

to help you

to me that you're out of a

nods glumly. “I'd

feel about

spark, head inclining.

“Yes, me.”

almost to attention. “What

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

“I'll try his office. Be right

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

pauses, microscopically, looking

for me, you

“Yes, sir.”

my watch. “We only have

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