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...”

they get it. Eyes widen. Screaming,

running the

Fuck…

after them, and there, running ahead

Finchby…

Gotcha!

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

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

Got the bastard!

half his weight pressed against the collar at the front of his neck,

catches up with me. “Want a

friend here

a piglet that

Which it is…

you annoy me now, we might

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

Ever the pragmatist…

bottom, and Finchby drops to the

carry him away? Knowing I'd have thought you would have...” James points two fingers at the little runt, pulling an

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

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

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

Finchby, I straighten up. Finchby takes the opportunity to kick out and

not looking for trouble. Like I said…” He looks down to Finchby again, his mouth pinching… “I don't want nothing to do with cutting up babies

Hickman. You were being

you with…” He meets my eye, shrugs.

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

nods glumly. “I'd say

you feel about

eyes spark, head

“Yes, me.”

up, almost to attention. “What would you

you can lay your hands on to get this bastard

“I'll try his office. Be

you're there pick up his laptop and phone if it's

microscopically, looking to

you

“Yes, sir.”

my watch.

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