Dark Game (Merikh Book 1) (4 page)

-- It will have to go unrequited then. We're out of here as soon as we can be. --

“You've still got two days. You should ask her out.”

-- And go where? The diner? --

“I'm sure the kids have places they can go to get into mischief.”

-- Maybe next time, after we deal with all the supernatural stuff. Oh, and kill her councilman. --

“In all seriousness, you should think about it. You're a good looking guy, about her age, and you need to get laid.”

-- No, I need to get back to work. Speaking of which, don't you have a job, too? --

“Just think about it.”

I didn't answer her, choosing to let my silence do the talking for me. It wasn't that it was a bad idea; it was just a foreign one. I’d only been on a date with one girl, and that had been a training mission we’d turned into something else. And when we were caught, she'd kicked the crap out of me.

Mr. Davids, the owner of a curio shop that catered to tourists, had entered the bank while I was talking to Patty. Most of his business was in cash, and he came in every morning to deposit the previous day's earnings. With the recent surge in crime I thought it was risky for an old man to wait overnight, but the thought never seemed to occur to the shop owner. He stood in line and waited for one of the tellers to finish getting ready, a smile permanently etched on his face.

The second customer of the day was Joe, the owner of the used car dealership on the edge of town and one of the only local businessmen still making decent money. People called him Slimy Joe behind his back but he didn't seem to mind. He had a smile on his face too, though unlike Davids his eyes constantly swept the room as though looking for someone to pounce on. He greeted Davids and they began a conversation in the hushed tone everyone adopted in old banks.

I turned back to the ATM and tried to take it all in. Somewhere in the mess of wires tumbling out of the box was the secure network link back to the central system. Assuming I could find it, I could at least make an attempt at troubleshooting, even if I had no real idea how it all worked.

From my spot on the floor I could see through the window and across the street to the diner. They were serving breakfast to a handful of retirees and there were three waitresses on duty. Claire moved around the place quickly, greeting everyone warmly and keeping things moving along. She didn't seem to have been affected by the confrontation the night before and I was surprised to find that I was pleased. I’d barely spared a moment to consider what would happen after I escaped, and once I was far enough away from Trevor and his goons I’d felt ashamed of myself for running.

I’d have to learn more about the relationship between Trevor and Claire if I hoped to get a handle on the situation. We hadn't spent much time on the social aspects of the town once we found what we thought was our opportunity, but now we would have to explore everything.

I was drifting, avoiding dealing with the job at hand. I dragged my eyes back to the machine and forced myself to focus. I couldn't power it down for fear of setting off an alarm somewhere, because Stephen would blame me if we got into trouble for tampering with it. This meant that I’d have to dig around inside a live system to find the cable I was looking for. I didn't relish the idea of accidentally knocking something out of where it was meant to be and potentially frying one of the boards. Or frying myself.

The muted conversation between Davids and Slimy Joe came to an abrupt halt behind me and I spared a glance, more to avoid the ATM than anything else.

Trevor's bodyguards had entered the bank. They were tall, well-built men in dark suits, obviously trying to look like badasses and pulling it off with aplomb. One remained at the door as though keeping watch while the other bypassed the two businessmen and walked up to Patty's window just as she arrived. He placed a briefcase on the counter and spoke too softly for me to hear.

Patty stepped back and turned to fetch Stephen, but he was already there. He took over the transaction, taking the case and handing the goon a receipt before hurrying to the stairs down to the old vault, disappearing from view. Petty stepped back into her position and waited for the man to leave. He paused for ten seconds, staring at her until she looked away, then turned and headed for the door.

I made sure I wasn't obvious as I watched them leave, keeping my eyes locked on the open ATM hatch and using my peripheral vision. Still, I caught the goon looking at me and smiling a knowing smile.

The bodyguards left and crossed the street to the diner, going around the side and down the alley to the rear entrance. One of them pounded on the door and they waited for a few seconds for Claire to dash away from the table she was serving and let them in.

As soon as the door was unlocked they barged in and slammed it shut behind them.

“I'm about to do something stupid,” I said. I was on my feet and out the door before Mouse got a chance to answer.

“What's happening?”

“Those bodyguards just let themselves into the diner. They've got the waitress trapped in her back room.”

“And you're going to be a hero.”

“I'm not going to just sit here and stare at an ATM while they do…whatever it is they're planning on doing.”

“Keep in mind you're supposed to be undercover. And you don't know what they're capable of.”

“I know.”

“Good, then go do your thing.”

I crossed the road, squinting against the bright sunlight until I stepped into the alleyway. When I reached the door I stopped to listen, my muscles contracting and relaxing rhythmically, preparing me for the coming fight.

There was no sound beyond the metal door, nothing to indicate anything unsavory was going on. I knew there was, though, and I knew I had to do something. But I couldn't move, couldn't make myself throw the door open and jump into the fray.

I was scared, frozen in place. The idea of facing two men in a fight, even men trained to kill, wouldn't normally have been enough to stop me. I’d faced off against multiple people before and relished the chance to let loose, to put my skills to use and do some damage.

But these men were connected to something magical, something I didn't understand and something I feared. I couldn't fight magic, not with my fists or with my mind. I wasn't equipped to deal with it and it had almost killed me in the past.

A sound from inside woke me from my trance. A muffled moan, perhaps a woman's. I grabbed the handle and prepared to tear the door open.

It opened on its own and instinct took over. I hadn't paid attention to the alley when I rushed over but my subconscious had and I threw myself into a pile of garbage bags without thinking. I made myself as small as I could and thanked the gods the collection guys were running a few weeks late.

“Thanks for this,” one of the goons said. His voice was deep and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You've been a good cow.”

“Just go,” Claire said. Her voice was trembling.

“We've done you a favor, charity,” the other man said. “You should be thankful.”

“Yeah, be thankful,” the first one added. “We don't make you bring us the stuff. We save you the effort.” He chuckled as he shook something in his hand, but his voice had a growl to it when he said, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Claire said, then slammed the door shut and locked it.

The men laughed, leaving the alley on the far side.

I didn't know what to think, about the men or about my own actions. They hadn't been inside long enough to do what I’d been afraid of, but something unpleasant had happened. Something that frightened Claire and excited the goons.

And I’d let it happen, standing outside, powerless against my fear. I allowed them to do whatever they did and didn’t try to stop it.

“What's happening?” Mouse said in my ear.

“They picked something up from the waitress.”

“Any idea what it was?”

“I'm going to follow them and find out.”

Mouse remained silent as I slipped out of the pile of trash and hurried to the corner.

When I looked around they were already a block away, one of them with a backpack slung over one shoulder. It was pink and had a bow attached to the large buckle holding it shut.

“Do you need me?” Mouse said. “This place is dead, anyway.” She was a real estate agent in a town nobody wanted to buy in. It was the perfect cover for someone who needed to make unexplained trips out of the office and have nothing to show for it.

“Not yet.” The men walked past their car, a current model, black BMW with all the extras, and kept walking. The town was small and pretty much everywhere was within walking distance. “They're staying in town.”

“Trevor's car is parked outside the distillery.” We’d planted a tracker the day we arrived; it was risky, but we hadn't known that at the time. We’d thought we were pulling off a simple hit, not facing someone with the kind of security Trevor Foster kept around him.

“Thanks.”

I cut right at the next intersection and broke into an easy jog. The streets were still empty and the early morning light made dark recesses all along the route. If I needed to I could disappear into one of them, but I didn't think it would be necessary.

I continued another two blocks over, working up a slight sweat as I passed the few houses on this side of town. Dogs barked from behind sagging chain fences but nobody paid them any attention and soon I was out of town and into the surrounding fields without running into anyone. I kept going for a minute before bearing left and heading for the old gray brick building standing on its own a little way out of town.

The distillery was long closed, but it had once kept the town in honest work, staying open through Prohibition and bringing the community together. Now it was an historical eyesore in desperate need of refurbishment. Or demolition.

I checked my surroundings and spotted the goons leaving the last of the buildings behind and starting on the old road out of town. I had a few minutes before they'd notice me roaming around. I dashed into the shadow of the building and crept to the other side.

Trevor Foster was waiting beside his own BMW with his back to me, leaning against the car and breathing in the morning. He was alone, his eyes closed against the bright sunlight.

-- I can take him now. --

“It’s meant to be quiet.” It wasn't a requirement of the job that we avoid violence, but it was listed as a nice to have.

-- We don't have a plan to keep things quiet anymore. An opportunity has presented itself. --

“Be sure,” Mouse replied.

I was. Or maybe I was just ashamed of myself and wanted to take it out on someone. I don’t know. I kept low and approached the target, sticking to the shadow of the distillery until I was nearly on top of the car. The ground was paved all around, cracked and broken but free of debris, and I moved silently. I freed my blade from its place against my forearm and judged the scenario before acting.

The goons were far enough away on the wrong side of the building; they wouldn't see anything before it was done and I was gone. Trevor would hear me no matter how I approached, but he wouldn't have time to react. Not before his throat was cut.

I decided to run at the car and vault it, slashing as I went and using my momentum to do most of the damage. My landing would be inelegant but it would get the job done.

I tensed, my eyes taking in everything and locking it in my mind as my muscles bunched in preparation.

The sound of a car intruded on the scene as it bounced onto the paving from the road out of town. Trevor's eyes opened to greet the new arrival. For a moment I was leaning out of the shadows for all the world to see and my heart leaped in my chest as my options went to shit and I was spotted.

I pulled back into the shadows anyway and waited for the start of the fight, but it never came. Trevor was blind from facing the sun and was focusing on the other direction. I pulled back, retreating to the corner of the building and slipping away before the car appeared.

“What happened?”

-- A new arrival. --

She knew not to ask if I was alright and remained silent, waiting for me to let her know if I needed her.

The new car was that of the county sheriff, followed by another with three of his deputies and Trevor's goons. The cars parked beside the BMW and everyone got out. Nobody said anything as they all turned and entered the building.

-- Why would the county sheriff be having a secret meeting with a councilman at an abandoned building outside town? --

“Go find out.”

-- I'm on it. --

I turned to a drainpipe running up the outside of the building and started to climb.

Chapter 4

The pipe running up the side of the building was rusty and in need of replacement, but it held. I pulled myself onto the roof and looked around for an entrance.

I crouched and made for a hole, the site of an old skylight that had long since fallen to the distillery floor below. Peering over the edge I could make out a beam three meters below.

I swung my legs over and paused when the roof let out a loud creek. A few seconds without someone yelling within and I was ready to go. I looked over the edge at my landing spot hidden in the murky interior, and slipped over.

I landed silently, dislodging some of the crud that had built up over the decades. It fell lazily through the air and disappeared from sight.

The gathering was happening in the center of the large space, between two huge metal vats. Cops on one side and Trevor and his men on the other. There was a crate between them with the pink backpack placed on it.

I made my way along the beam, quickly and quietly. I wasn't worried about the dust I dislodged, both because there was nothing I could do about it and because I hoped they'd assume it was a bird rather than an assassin spying on them from above. I transferred from the beam I was on to another that ran at ninety degrees, taking me close enough to the men that I could make out what they were saying.

“You're failing the county, sheriff,” Trevor was saying. The sheriff scowled in response. “I'm offering you assistance.”