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 runs up,

Too stupid to live…

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

finally, they get it.

running

Fuck…

them, and there, running ahead

Finchby…

Gotcha!

his pistol. He’s way too slow, yelping as I slap the hand to

spluttering, panicking… I plant my fist in his

Got the bastard!

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

up with me. “Want a

here

understatement. Finchby’s squealing like a piglet

Which it is…

not done anything to you yet. If you annoy me now, we might move on to that part of

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

Ever the pragmatist…

release him, top and bottom, and Finchby drops to the

would have...” James points two fingers at the little runt,

is. I’m sure our friend here will be able to

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

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

Finchby takes the opportunity to kick out and

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

Hickman.

was to help you with…” He meets my

get that. Hickman, it seems to me that you're

glumly. “I'd say you're

feel about

eyes spark, head

“Yes, me.”

up, almost to attention. “What would

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

“I'll try his office.

pick up

pauses, microscopically, looking to

for me, you take orders from him

“Yes, sir.”

don't hang around.” I check my watch. “We only have six

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