Jack Kursed (27 page)

Five minutes later Jack
was pacing next to his truck outside the mall across from the
convenience store. He thought he felt nothing at first, and was
comfortable with that. But rage crept in with sadness. He couldn't
get the image of Soon and his wife dancing out of his
mind.

"What were you thinking, you fucking
idiot," he said. "You were gonna take on an armed robber with a
broom? You fool."

He continued pacing as
emotions kept attacking. He was furious at Soon. He was furious at
himself for being furious. He didn't process pain like mortals, but
his heart ached. Tears nearly escaped his eyes when he thought of
them holding hands as they died.

His thoughts went to their
murderer.

He pulled his fist back
and slammed it through the driver's side window. His hand was
chewed up only for a moment before the cuts healed, leaving nothing
but a little blood and shattered glass on the seat. He cherished
that pain and wished he could feel more. Real physical pain would
push out the intense emotions he was feeling.

Jack thought back to something
Victoria told him.

You have a problem, and
the killing starts.

That sounded like a good
idea.

*****

Jack walked into Best Buy and
immediately scanned for the Geek Squad. He saw their familiar
orange uniforms near the back. There was no line, thankfully, as he
knew he'd anger everyone by ignoring all of them.

A young man, fresh out of
high school, greeted him at the counter. Jack knew he was in a
dangerously bad mood as his blood boiled just looking at the
teenager. Curly red hair, scruffy beard, wrinkled uniform. His
name-tag identified him as Brian.

"Can I help you?"

Jack produced the DVD from
his pocket.

"I need to print off some
images."

Brian wrinkled his nose and scoffed in
disgust. "Does this look like a Kinkos?"

His first instinct was to kill the
young man, but he pushed it aside. Instead he produced a one
hundred-dollar bill.

"Now that you mention
it..."

Brian's eyes lit up as he smiled.
"Welcome to Kinkos, sir."

Jack followed the Geek
back into their work area, full of half-functioning computers and
monitors. There was only one other employee working with an iPod
and computer. Brian led him to the workstation at the far end of
the bench.

"Okay, so what do we got here?" Brian
said, cracking his knuckles. "Anything juicy? Got some wife-on-wife
action on this thing?"

Jack shoved another hundred-dollar
bill in the pocket of his shirt.

"That's extra, just to get the smile
off your face. Shut up, and get to work."

"You got it. But I really do need to
know. I mean...what kind of files am I working with
here?"

"It's security footage."

"Ah, then I'm guessing propriety
software."

"I'll call the
vendor."

It took nearly an hour of calling
different people and handing the phone over to Brian before they
had any success. The end result was Brian launching software he'd
downloaded and pulling up the video from the convenience
store.

Brian's good mood
disappeared as they watched the murder.

"Are you kidding me? What is
this?"

"Play it again."

Jack watched the video once more,
absorbing every detail about the murderer. Caucasian, left handed,
slight limp with his right leg, a piercing in his lip.

"Okay, I'm done," Brian said. "I'm not
watching that again."

Jack gripped his shoulder and set him
back down. "You'll play it as many times as I say. Rewind it and
start again from when he first walks in the store."

He stored away more
details. A thin mustache, a stretched piercing in the left ear, a
small tattoo on his forearm.

"Print out a few stills. Right when
he's leaving he looks up at the camera for just a moment. You can
see his piercings and tattoo. Print that."

"Shit, man, who are you?
CSI?"

The printer at the opposite end of the
bench spat out paper. Brian retrieved them before his colleague.
Jack took the papers, as well as his DVD, and slid another
hundred-dollar bill into Brian's shirt.

"Pleasure working with
you."

Jack drove deeper into
Parkville, staring at the printed photos at every red light. He
parked across the street from Jerry Turnball's pool hall. Taking a
moment to simply observe the place, he watched a young couple
holding hands go inside, laughing and talking. As he climbed out of
his truck Jerry's henchman tossed someone out. They exchanged words
before the tossed man sulked away.

If anyone had the connections to help
Jack find the subject in the photos, it was Jerry.

"Hold on there, Slim," the
henchman said, holding out his hand. He lowered it as recognition
flashed across his face. "Oh, it's you."

"Is Jerry in?"

The henchman stepped aside
to let Jack pass. It was another typical day at Jerry's pool hall.
The young couple who just walked in were buying something white out
of a plastic bag from a man behind the counter. Two larger men
played pool by themselves in the far corner. Two women in tight
half-tops and jean shorts enjoyed a game of nine-ball on the table
closest to Jerry as a woman ground his hips on his lap.

"My favorite client!" Jerry called
when he saw Jack. Jack nearly winced at the accent. "Where's your
young friend? I'm sure Randy here would like another shot at losing
again."

Jack turned and looked at
Randy the henchman, who followed closely behind. The large man
didn't look like a Randy.

"She couldn't make it today, I'm
afraid. I need some information."

"Jack, I like you. But information
isn't cheap-"

He fanned five
hundred-dollar bills and set them on the Cinemax-rated pool table.
Jerry's female companions stopped their game to study Jack. Randy
grabbed the money and looked it over, giving Jerry a
nod.

"Is that a start?" Jack
asked.

"A nice start, yes. Tell me, what is
it you need to know?"

He pulled out the photos
Brian printed and handed them over. Jerry smiled at first as he
flipped through them. His smile faded and a look of concern settled
in his eyes.

Jerry crumpled the photos and shoved
them in Jack's chest.

"I want you to leave now,"
he said, his accent wavering slightly.

"Wait, you know him?" Jack asked,
letting the photos fall to the floor.

"Did you not hear me? I said I want
you to leave, right now!"

Jerry reached for a cell phone on the
table next to his seat. Jack took a step forward.

"I'm not leaving here
until I get a name."

He heard a click and saw a
flash of movement to his right. Jack froze and stared at Randy, who
pointed a gun at him. The women slowly backed up until they were at
another table. The men near the front gripped their cues. All eyes
were on them.

"The man told you to leave," Randy
said. "So, leave."

"Jerry, give me a name, and I'm gone.
If not-"

"Who the fuck do you think
you're talking to?" Jerry shouted. "You don't think I know all
about you, Mister Millionaire? I never go into business with a
stranger. I know all about you. You sit in an office all day. So
drop the tough guy act."

"We know where you live," Randy said,
still pointing his gun. "We know where that little girl goes to
school-"

Jack turned and marched
toward Randy. He didn't run, didn't lunge. He didn't need to. Randy
didn't choose his words carefully, and for that, he would
die.

Randy flinched and fired
twice. The first shot caught Jack in the throat, the second in the
shoulder. The bullets struck his skin and fell to the ground,
bouncing and rolling under the nearby pool table. The women shouted
and ran, heading straight for the door.

Jack tackled Randy around
the waist and took him to the ground. The henchman fired a few more
wild shots, only one of which found a target, bouncing off of
Jack's stomach. Randy was stronger and bigger, but he was dealing
with a man who didn't feel pain, didn't get tired. He struck Jack
in the jaw several times and whipped him with his gun. Jack didn't
flinch, and pummeled the man with barely-controlled rage. He broke
Randy's nose, a few ribs, shattered an eye socket. As the fight
left Randy's body, Jack pulled him into a sitting position and
circled behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat. The henchman
struggled for a moment and kicked with his legs, but it was
futile.

"Shh," Jack whispered. "It'll all be
over soon."

He looked up to see Jerry
holding a gun of his own, pointing it at Jack. The women were all
gone, as well as the man behind the register. Only Jerry and the
two men near the front remained. The two men obviously worked for
him.

"Let him go," Jerry said. "Or I'll put
a bullet between your eyes."

Jack smiled. He had no intention of
letting Randy go until he was dead.

The gesture panicked
Jerry, who fired. Jack laughed as the bullet struck his cheek and
fell to the floor next to him.

"Ten feet away, and you're a terrible
shot."

"What the fuck?!" Jerry shouted, and
nodded at his last two henchmen.

One of them ran up and
swung his pool cue. It snapped across Jack's head, the broken piece
flying across the room. The henchman took a step back and was
noticeably disturbed at the smile Jack flashed him.

"Guns don't work, so maybe
a piece of wood will? Is that the logic here?"

The second henchman grabbed a chair
and lifted it over his head. Randy had stopped struggling in Jack's
grip. He could feel the life leave Randy's body.

Jack sprung to his feet
and kicked the chairman in the stomach, forcing him to drop the
chair to the ground. The henchman threw a wild punch that Jack
easily ducked. He wasn’t any faster than a mortal, but they were so
easy to read, especially when they were angry. A twitch of the
shoulder here, a flinch of the leg there. He dodged another punch
and kick until the man with the broken pool cue decided to get
involved. The man thrust the broken wood out like it was a knife.
Jack easily spun it out of his grasp and shoved it into his ally’s
throat.

Everything slowed down
after that. Jerry was diving for his phone once again, while the
final henchman watched his friend die in disbelief. Jack ripped the
cue from the man’s throat. Blood poured out of his wound as he fell
face first to the ground.

The henchman backed up a
step and put his hands in the air.

"Look, man, there’s gotta
be something we can work out-"

Jack interrupted by shoving the broken
cue into his eye.

Jerry ran for the front
door. Jack picked up one of a few loose guns and shot him in the
leg. Jerry cried out and collapsed between two pool
tables.

Jack admired the gun a moment as he
approached the begging man.

"I’m not much for gun
play. I’m surprised I’ve still got good aim."

Jerry slowly pulled
himself along the floor. He glanced over his shoulder and begged.
Jack gripped the side of a pool table and flipped it onto him. He
screamed in agony as the table pinned his legs. Jack leaned on the
edge, looking down at him.

"We’re gonna have a talk,
Jerry. Now, Randy tried to talk, and he threatened my young friend.
He paid for it with his life. So you might want to think very
carefully before you speak. Give me a name."

Jerry spit on the floor
and looked up defiantly. "You don’t know who-"

Jack shot him in the arm. He waited a
moment for the screams to die down.

"I can do this all day,
and I’ve got a crazy imagination."

"You son of a-"

Another shot, this one in the upper
thigh.

"So much for thinking before you
speak. Name?"

"Trevor Daniels," he
shouted. "He’s my wife’s nephew."

"Location?"

"He works at a bar just
off the beach. A place called Smitty’s."

"He works? Trevor Daniels has a job,
and he robbed my store?"

Jack was quiet a moment, simply lost
in his own thoughts. He looked down at Jerry once again.

"I’d like to let you live.
You could be useful again one day. But I’m worried you might try
for revenge."

Jerry shook his head. "No
way. I’m not getting near you."

"And my young friend?"

"Off limits."

Jack studied the lines in his face,
the look in his eye.

"I don’t believe
you."

One final shot, this one
to Jerry’s head.

Jack wiped the gun and
dropped it to the floor. The precaution wasn’t necessary; his
prints didn’t exist in any system. He also had many contacts in
high places. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten away with
murder.