Roen, blond-haired man in dark sunglasses just passed by three times in the past two minutes. Confirmed visual on you every time.
An image of a young familiar-looking guy wearing a brown leather jacket popped into his head. Flanking him were two others in similar attire. Roen had seen his share of operatives to detect the forced casualness in their demeanor. These were apex predators about to spring in for the kill. He slowly put up a hand and cut off Wuehler mid-sentence.
“Go hot,” he mouthed. “Out the rear.”
Faust and Wuehler, with their backs to the entrance, followed the order without question. They slipped their hands in their coats and clicked their safeties off.
Wuehler nudged Faust with his elbow. “Get on the comm. I’ll go first.”
Faust nodded as Wuehler lazily stood up, stretched, and strolled toward the back exit.
“You next,” Roen said.
Faust shook his head. “Not leaving a host to cover our rear. Get going.”
“I got the visual. You go. That’s an order.”
Faust hesitated before standing up. Roen heard an “I outrank you” as he walked past. Just as Faust left his line of sight, he heard four sharp pops in the air behind him.
Different barrel signatures. Not a one-sided exchange.
Immediately, Faust sprinted toward the back. Roen overturned the table and ducked behind it. The blond kid and two men suddenly appeared, spraying bullets through the entire restaurant.
Full automatics. You are outgunned.
“You mean my peashooter doesn’t do thirty rounds in four seconds?” Roen peeked over the edge of the table and returned fire. He grabbed one of the table legs and pulled it with him as he retreated. Behind him, he heard the two-tone popping exchange again, soon joined by a third. Faust must be getting in on the fun. In front, Blondie’s two friends were at the sides of the entrance laying suppression fire while he stood behind them with his arms crossed over his chest. There was something serial killer eerie about the kid.
Stay near the side flank. Civilian on your right.
The old lady screamed and she tried to crawl toward the kitchen on all fours. The Genjix were spraying fire indiscriminately through the entire restaurant. The stupid woman was actually moving toward the crossfire! Roen peeked over the side again and was rewarded with an exploding splinter that nearly took his eye out.
Leave her. You will only draw fire to her.
Roen cursed. Tao was right. He began to drag himself toward the exit when he caught sight of the old woman pleading for help. Roen swore again. There’d be no way the big guy in the sky was going to let this one slide if he left grandma out here like this. He took a deep breath and unloaded his clip at the one of the guys in the entrance. Once they retreated behind cover, he leaned out, grabbed her by the collar, and yanked her behind the table like a rag doll. A fresh hail of wood splinters exploded around them. A jagged seam appeared down the middle of the table. This thing wasn’t going to hold out much longer.
After all these years, you still listen like crap.
Roen motioned for her to stay low. The table was quickly being whittled down into firewood. He had to draw their fire. Roen waited for a good time to jump toward the door but the gunfire didn’t let up. Then, a voice called out to him.
“Roen Tan, Come out!”
Roen perked up. He peeked over the jagged edge and saw Blondie stride into the restaurant without a care in the world.
“This kid must be mentally challenged.”
Or overly confident. Reminds me a bit of you.
“He must be really good then.”
Or just stupid. Like I said, reminds me of you.
“Roen Tan,” Blondie repeated. “I have waited a long time to finally meet you.”
“How did you find me?” Roen shouted. “Let me guess; you love the dumplings here too.”
Blondie smirked. “You’re not as good as you think you are. My men followed you after the meeting with the Bamboo Union.”
The one following Hutch must have been a lure!
Now, Roen took pride in tailing targets. He was very good at sneaking around, staying hidden, and following someone without being noticed. That skill, however, was far different from detecting targets. In that respect, Roen was only passable. So the tail he did find on Hutch must have only been a decoy to draw Roen out. He had fallen for their trap and led them right to his doorstep! Roen cursed his own stupidity.
“You are pinned down and my men have both exits covered,” the kid continued. “I am offering you a chance to live.”
Roen forced a laugh. “You think I’m going to surrender? Get a grip, junior.”
“Oh, I don’t expect you to surrender. I expect you to take my offer for a fair fight. No weapons. Hand to hand. To the death. If you win, my men let you go. If you die, well, you were going to die anyway.”
I do not like it.
The offer sounded too good to be true. Who did this kid think he was? Miyamoto Musashi? He didn’t even look old enough to shave yet. Roen could admit he wasn’t the best fighter in the world. In his book, Lin held that title, but he’d like to think he’d take the bronze.
About that overconfidence thing…
Roen slowly stood up, hiding his pistol behind the shattered remnants of the table. “Why are you offering me this?” he asked. “Selling life insurance too?”
The kid’s mouth curled into a sneer. “My name is Jacob Diamont.”
Roen shrugged. “And that means what?”
He was rewarded with pure rage on young Jacob’s face. That alone was worth the price of admission. Looking at the boy more closely, Roen noticed something familiar about him. Sean Diamont’s face had haunted Roen for years, that fatal night playing over and over in his nightmares. Most of Jacob didn’t resemble Sean, except those eyebrows. Those were definitely Sean’s eyebrows. But where Roen saw most of Sean in this Jacob kid was that smirk. And the nose maybe. The nose and those eyebrows and that smirk.
Interesting.
“Think I can take him?”
He is half your age.
“That’s what I’m worried about. At least I have a weight advantage.”
“So,” Roen said. “I put down my gun, and you put down yours, and then we try to kill each other like civilized men?”
Jacob raised the pistol in his hand, and then let it go. Time slowed as Roen’s eyes trailed the falling pistol. Another old memory he had long buried crawled back up his consciousness. Sean once offered a similar deal and had dropped his gun. Except when Roen had put down his gun, Sean murdered Abdul and Sonya. The pistol clattered as it bounced off the concrete floor. Roen gave that smirking Jacob one look and wanted nothing more again than to wipe it off his face. He raised his pistol and fired.
Roen had to admit; young Jacob was good. In the split second that Roen pulled the trigger, he closed the distance between them, blocked the trigger pull with his finger, and kneed Roen in the abdomen, followed by a left cross to the chin. In other words, he kicked Roen’s ass and did it really fast.
Highly skilled shotokan movements. Fast. Leads with left.
“You mean that punch to my face was his weak hand?”
Afraid so.
“Crap. I am in so much trouble.”
That would be the logical conclusion.
The kid was nearly as fast as Lin, though Roen could tell his speed was more a function of youth and talent than technique. Not that it made a difference to the end result. Roen ate two more punches to the face, and a kick to the ribs knocked the wind out of him. He collapsed on the ground.
“You beat grandfather?” Jacob snarled. “I don’t believe it.”
“He didn’t believe it either when I killed him,” Roen shot back.