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,

Too stupid to live…

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

they get it. Eyes widen. Screaming, they

two running the wrong

Fuck…

and there, running

Finchby…

Gotcha!

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 fingers

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

Got the bastard!

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

catches up with me.

Our friend here

like a piglet that knows it’s

Which it is…

you yet. If you annoy me now, we might move on to that

want him able to speak, you’d better not strangle him.

Ever the pragmatist…

Finchby drops to

him away? Knowing I'd have thought you would

know where he is. I’m sure our

James and I drag him towards the door, kicking and struggling

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

my grip on Finchby, I straighten up. Finchby takes the opportunity to kick out and James cuffs him on the

hands up and away from his torso. “Hey, I'm not looking for trouble. Like I said…” He looks down to Finchby again, his mouth pinching…

bastard, Hickman. You were being

you with…” He meets my eye, shrugs. “Sorry, Mr Klempner. It wasn’t

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

glumly. “I'd say you're

you feel about a

spark, head inclining.

“Yes, me.”

to

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

thinks, then, “I'll try his

pick up

pauses, microscopically,

for me, you take orders

“Yes, sir.”

my watch. “We only have six

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