Times changed.
“You look like you can use a drink.” Hunter was just a silhouette with emerald eyes where he sat at the lopsided table. He poured greenish liquor into a couple of shot glasses.
Not wanting to be rude, I sat across from him and prayed that the rickety chair wouldn’t set me down on my ass. Luckily it stayed intact as I accepted the shot. I was pretty sure that he wasn’t the type to keep his glassware clean and all, but I really didn’t want to offend an artificial assassin whose programming was almost definitely unstable. I downed the shot and immediately gagged. I’m not very selective with free booze, but his preferred poison was pretty damned awful.
I coughed. “What the hell is this stuff?”
Hunter downed his shot and poured himself another. “Absinthe. It’s a developed taste.”
Like he knew. Synoids can turn alcohol into the fuel that keeps them running, which was the only reason why they drank at all. Same for the protein in food.
I shakily set the glass back on the table. “I’ll pass, thanks. Look, you probably know why I’m here.”
“Yes. You require my assistance in killing someone.”
“Might be more than just someone.”
He shrugged. “The quantity of targets is of no consequence. My purpose is to kill people and I have only rare occasions to do so. Your troubles are my opportunities to fulfill my prime directive, so to speak.”
“Glad to know that you’re up to the challenge, Hunter.”
“I doubt that what you request will provide any challenge. Nonetheless, present me with targets and I will present you with cadavers.”
I paused. I didn’t have to go through with the gonzo plan that I had in mind. The brass already wanted me for my earlier escapade, and I sure didn’t need any extra heat on my back. I could slink back into the shadows and try to lay dormy until things blew over.
But that wouldn’t do anything for Natasha. And I couldn’t rest until the Red-Eyed Killer and everyone involved paid up for what they did.
“All right, Hunter. This is what I need for you to do…”
“Hey Joey. How’s it going?”
Joey’s eyebrows raised just a tad as he turned from the doorway of Big Louie’s flophouse. Then he saw that I wasn’t pointing heat at him. He straightened up and flexed, almost ripping his rags from the stress of holding in his muscles. His knuckles cracked as he grinned.
“You got a major set of stones coming back here, Mick. Seems like you’re looking for another shot at getting your face punched in. First time was a freebie. This time I gotta charge.”
“I figure you owe me a rematch, Joey. Last time you had me at a disadvantage.”
He smirked. “Yeah? You mean besides being bigger, faster and stronger than you?”
“Something like that.” I took off my flogger and set it on the terrace furniture. I carefully placed my Bogart on top of it. Then I rolled up my sleeves.
Joey stared. “You’re serious. You wanna do this for real? No weapons?”
“That’s right, Joey. I don’t take too kindly to getting manhandled. Damages the rep. So whaddya say we settle that score right now?”
Joey displayed his teeth in what I guess he thought was a smile. “Now you’re talking.” In overconfidently predictable fashion, he practically ran toward me.
That’s when I let him have it.
The weight of his bulk tore the door off the hinges when his body smashed against it. He and the door skidded inward a few good yards.
I gently shook my gloved fist. The knuckles were lined with metallic sensors and wired to discharge a heavy dose of electricity like a shotgun blast when they struck something. In that case it was Joey’s massive jaw.
I put my Bogart and flogger back on. Then I pulled out the Mean Ol’ Broad and stepped inside. I walked past Joey’s comatose form and quickly darted to the side as a barrage of gunfire hummed past and shredded the walls. When the shooting stopped, I heard Big Louie’s voice.
“I know that’s you, Mick. What the hell’s got into you? I told you it was business. You got one chance to breeze out before my boys fill you with daylight.”
I didn’t say a word. I let my hands do the talking when they rolled a couple of grenades in that general direction. I stayed put and lit a gasper as the fireworks went off. After the explosive roar died down, I strolled down the blackened hallway.
Turned out that Big Louie was in the dining room. I should have known. Fire flared along the walls and danced across the floor. A few droppers were strewn across the blackened furniture. The goons seemed to have had good enough sense to duck for cover, so they avoided some of the damage. They groaned and staggered to their feet. I spared them a glance.
“You boys dust out now and I’ll forget I ever saw you.”
They hobbled out the room as fast as their injured limbs could carry them. I took a drag of my gasper and listened to the angry crackle of the flames. The heat was pretty close to unbearable, and I’m pretty sure Big Louie felt it even more than I did. Since he was trapped under the massive dining room table and all.
He took the brunt of the blast, probably because he was too fat to get outta the way. His face sagged like an overheated candle as he struggled to move the heavy table that pinned his ruined legs to the floor. Smoke wafted from his scorched and torn rags. His beady eyes rolled fearfully.
“Mick. Give me a hand. I’ll… I’ll make it… worth your while.”
I shook my head. “All that alcohol you had stashed up sure turned out to be flammable. Like storing drums of gasoline. No extinguisher system, Louie? Lemme guess — didn’t pay the fire dues for the joint and they cut off the supply, right? Pretty bad move… in retrospect.”
“Mick… please. Help me…”
I exhaled gasper fumes. “I knew a man that needed help, Louie. You may have heard of him. His name was Luzzatti.”
“Just… business.” Big Louie’s breath rattled. “Nothing… personal…”
“Nothing personal? You chose the Red-Eyed Killer for a reason. Because you knew that he’d butcher the Luzzattis. You wanted to make a statement. Show the other lowlife thugs that you were serious. That you were ready for the big leagues. Congrats, champ. You made it.”
Big Louie wheezed as his hands frantically clawed at the scorched wood. “Not… me. Pike… his idea…”
“Don’t worry about Pike. He’ll get his desserts soon enough. But it’s getting hot and something smells like bacon fat in here. I think I’ll take a breath of fresh air. All this smoke is bad for the lungs.”
“Gotta be… something you… need.”
I paused. “You know, now that you mention it, there is something I need. The Red-Eyed Killer. He’s not the type of mug that’s easy to trace. So why don’t you tell me where to find him and I might consider pulling your fat from the fire in very literal fashion.”
His rubbery face sagged even further. “Don’t… know. Pike set up the… deal. I’m just… the handler.”
“Sucks to be you.” I turned to leave.
“Don’t leave me like this. Not like this.” Big Louie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m begging you, Mick…”
I paused. The Mean Ol’ Broad was in my hand, and Big Louie was at my feet. A pull of trigger and he’d go from one hell to the next. But that was too clean. Too good for a dirty rotten skel like Big Louie.
I flicked the gasper stub into the nearby flames. “I bet Mrs. Luzzatti begged too, Louie. I bet she begged for her life. For Luzzatti’s life. They deserved better than that. You don’t. But I’ll do you one better. I understand that adrenaline can make a person stronger. You know, cause people to do things that seem impossible. Like move heavy objects for instance. So I’ll give you a chance. You get that table off of you and manage to get outta here before the place burns down and you get to live. If you don’t…”