The Austin Job (11 page)

The gas lights hissed to life, a chain reaction making its way around the room. “Thank you, Barabbas, for your help. Go. Is time to sleep.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Tomorrow is big day.”

“I’m ready, Professor.”

Despite the young man’s blue eyes and Saxon heritage, he reminded Oleg of his younger self—same build, same fire. He nodded. “Good, good. Now go.” Barabbas headed up the stairs toward Oleg’s academic office. The professor pulled the right horn of a second bronze bull to let the young man pass. As he pushed it back into the wall he turned toward the girl. “Oleander. Help me with this. I am old man.” He placed the nozzle of the flame thrower on the work bench. “Ah, Rasputin. We will not require services just yet.”

Oleander came up slowly behind him, timid. She slid the tanks up, removing the harness from his shoulders. The movement required her to lean close to Oleg. Lifting her arms over his bent neck and head, she finally placed the tanks beside the nozzle.

He shook his head.
She is good girl, but naive. Too malleable
. It was a shame. His directions to her having been completed, she stood motionless, her back toward him. “Good to have you back.” He put his hand on her shoulder and felt her quivering. “We all worry for you.” He turned her around, tears streaming down her face.

“Stop crying.” He brushed back a tear as she closed her eyes to his touch. “Is leg? Did they harm you?” She shook her head. “I know. I give too much responsibility, but all will soon be over.” She shook her head again, more vehemently.

Through sobs she burst out, “I didn’t give it to them. I don’t know how he got it, but it wasn’t from me.”

“Peace child. What is this you speak of?” He cupped her chin with his hands, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“The map.” She cringed as she spoke. “The sheriff has the map.” She crumbled, forcing him to catch her under the arms. His mustache twitched. “He said something about Brutus. I think he killed him.” She blubbered into his chest.

“Unfortunate.” His eyes flashed with venom, disgusted with himself for not checking the boy’s pockets first. He tried to relax. Without help the map would be next to impossible to interpret. But what had the girl given them in exchange for her release? As if reading his thoughts she flinched, jerking her head from his chest.

“I didn’t tell them anything, I swear. Not a thing.” She pleaded with him through swimming eyes.

“Of course you didn’t. Peace child.” He backed her toward his chair until she sat. “They cannot read map. Is too late. Tomorrow we end what we begin.” She rested her head on the table. He backed away from her, collecting a box and a jar before returning. “You must be strong.”

He slammed both containers upside down on the surface, inches from her head. She jolted, rearing back as he lifted both the box and the jar to reveal an angry scorpion and tarantula. Instantly the animals locked in mortal combat. “Scorpion is out-matched by both size and weight.” The battling arachnids shifted about the table, grappling for the upper hand. “She must lure larger enemy into striking range.”

Oleander attempted to rise from the chair, but Oleg pressed her back down gently. The scorpion clamped the tarantula’s forward most legs in its pincers, pulling the spider into itself. “Only when spider attacks is top of head within reach of scorpion sting.” Oleg put his hand on Oleander’s back, keeping her from retreating in horror. “Watch.”

Lightning quick the spider took its shot, the fang protruding from its jaw scratching the armored back of its foe. But in the same instant the scorpion landed its sting on the soft, bulbous head of the spider. Twice more it forced its tail up over its head while pulling the spider down by the legs. Finally it let go. The spider spun, leapt lamely, and then crumpled. Reacting to the toxin, its legs curled inward.

Oleg scooped both the spider and scorpion into the jar before dumping them into the box and closing it tight. “Scorpion is sick, but she will eat foe and live.” He picked Oleander up by the shoulders. Shaking her lightly, he forced her to look him in the eyes. “Tonight you are sick. Tomorrow we eat foe.” He raised his brows. “
да
?” She nodded, uncertain at first. Then her eyes filled with poison as she borrowed from his own. He kissed her forehead. “Good.” He had plenty to share.

~~~

The scuttle-click hissing bore down on them until the popping burns on Starr’s retinas finally cleared.

Daisy took his hand, crouching behind him. “Then what—”

“Scorpions!” He stumbled backwards into her. “Duck!” He forced her down as a pincer the size of a dinner plate slashed across the back of his head, knocking him to the ground on top of her. He rolled and came up firing. The .38 popped loudly in the tunnel. Gunpowder flared from the barrel, creating a spasmodic light show and illuminating the chaos around them one still image at a time. “The sonic gun!”

A stinger lashed from the roof of the tunnel within inches of his face, the pungent venom choking the air. He continued firing as the monster fled over the top of them and smashed into the base of the moonlight tower. Furious, it jabbed at the light, pounding its armor-encrusted pincers and head into the pipe.

Daisy shrieked, “There’s another!”

Starr spun on his heels, his shadow outlined against a second monster bearing down on her. Then the light went out. “Daisy!” A rushing sound filled the space behind him, followed quickly by a massive crack to the center of his back. Like taking a bull’s horns in the arena, the force flung him ragdoll against the tunnel wall. Blocking the impact with his arms, he lost the pistol and collapsed to the floor.

For the second time that night, the sound of owl’s wings buffeted both sides of his head. This time the push and pull of the sonic gun threatened to pop his brain from his skull like two massive plungers. “Dai—sy!” The word rippled on the pulsing air. He lifted his head as a flailing stinger swept underneath it and disappeared into the dark. The monster stood between him and her. While fumbling to his knees, he brushed against the .38.

“James, where are you?”

Her voice was all he needed. He hugged the wall, the remaining scorpion thrashing only feet away. Again the stinger lashed out, striking the wall inches from his shoulder. Lunging in her direction, he fired his final two rounds directly into what he imagined was the creature’s head. As he crashed down and skidded to a stop, the tunnel suddenly fell silent. “Daisy?” Nothing in response. His breath came short and fast, a cold sweat washing over him. “Daisy!”

“I’m here.”

“Are you alright?”

“No. I mean yes.” She shuffled in his direction. “Let’s get out of here.”

He grunted. His knee had taken a hit and his back screamed with pain. Her hand found him in the darkness and helped him to his feet. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. He ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her head.

Something heavy scraped the floor. “I only stunned it.” She whispered the words, not wanting the monster to realize it still lived.

“We’ll be long gone. Come on.” Hugging the wall, they skirted the armored demon and hurried for the exit. As the stone platform locked back in place with the footbridge, the battered couple breathed deep. Drenched in sweat and artificial moonlight, Starr wondered if he’d ever be able to go underground again.

ELEVEN

This Keeps Getting Better

Lickter exited Ms. Lloyd’s private elevator on the eighth floor, grateful she’d at least trusted him with a key. Exhaustion steeped his bones, but like a wasp in an ant mound his mind had been riled by an unwanted thought. It was one thing for a twisted professor to manipulate the tender mind of a young girl, piss poor as it was. But he couldn’t stomach some wealthy spinster yanking his own strings.

Besides, he should have known better. He stopped midway down the hall to gather himself. Rich and powerful, cunning and devious—Gwendolyn Lloyd epitomized all these things. But despite his current anger, he still had conflicting feelings for her. He suspected she had more than a professional need for him.

Lickter had played the game long enough to know that with power and wealth came isolation and distrust. His biggest mistake had been allowing her world to invade his. Now the question was whether to push deeper in or distance whatever he had left of his private life.

He sucked in his gut, shook it with his hands. He’d gotten soft around the midsection and wrinkled around the eyes, but overall he’d aged well. He reckoned he’d keep playing the game as long as he could, and it’d be a bit easier with a boost in status. If he played his cards right, maybe he could cut down on the dirty work. He breathed deep and continued down the hall.

Despite the lack of distinguishing markings to delineate it from the others, he located her door easily. What looked like a hallway full of typical offices, served as G.W.’s private living quarters. Knocking softly, he removed his hat, held it over his stomach and styled his expression as one of tired compassion—a dear friend and part-time lover checking in on her wellbeing.

Ms. Lloyd swung the door wide. She greeted him in a sleek, silver nightgown, apparently anticipating his arrival. Or perhaps preempting it. Lickter swallowed, struggling to refocus on the plan as he followed the slit in the front of her gown from the floor to within inches of her bounty. “Ma’am.” He nodded.

She tossed her head, inviting him in, a smile cracking her lips. “You’ve always had such a way with words, Benjamin.”

“The fewer to eat down the road.”

“I thought men ate their hats, not their words.” She sidled up to a bar separating the kitchen from a practical yet elegant dining and living area and began pouring them drinks from a shaker resting in a bucket of ice.

“Mine’s awful dirty, ma’am.”

“Your words? Or your hat?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled up a stool and rested his hat on the counter. “Rum?”

“Goslings.”

“Wishing for warmer weather already?” He asked.

“Warmer times maybe.”

Seeing his opening, he took it.
Business first.
“I’m still concerned about the auction.” She slid him a drink. He captured her hand with his own, held it on the counter as he kicked back a third of the stormy mixture of dark rum and ginger beer.

“I may have to do all my drinking in private after this evening’s gala.” She held his hand to her face. Before he could swallow she continued, “can we discuss this later?” It was a genuine question—the first one Lickter could remember all day. She was asking him, and it proved more effective than a request or order.

He nodded, took a long moment to finish his beverage before drawing her into him. From the stool he had to tip his head upward to match her lips with his and complete the embrace. He slid his hands down her back, ran his fingertips up both sides from hip to neck. Tangling them in her hair, he stood and asserted himself with a bold kiss while moving her toward the bedroom.

An hour later his elevated endorphins sagged as the alcohol lingered. He ached both physically and mentally. Scooting higher in the bed, he situated Gwendolyn’s head on his chest and watched it rise and fall with his breathing. “That girl was a sad case.”

“I’m sorry for that.” She placed her hand on his stomach. “I realize it must have been difficult for you.”

“She loves him.”

“Really? I guess I had considered the possibility.”

He sighed. “Can’t help but wonder what’ll happen to her after this is all over.”

“Hmm.” The direction of the conversation didn’t seem to interest her.

“Or what’ll happen to me.”

She stiffened. “I don’t see how those are related.”

“No?” He put a hand behind his head. “While I’ll admit I’m no sappy-eyed youth, I got the unsettling feeling I’m being used.”

She sat up, the contour of her breasts hugging the sheer fabric. “Grow up, Benjamin. We’re all being used. What do you think relationships are?”

“Even if I accept your grim outlook, there has to be rules.”

“Rules? Do you think this is some sort of playground? Keep your hands to yourself, share, play nice?” She snatched a hair tie from the nightstand, pulling both the brown and silvery gray strands back into a quick ponytail. It gave her a youthful look Lickter liked.

“How about not demanding more than you’re willing to give.” He raised a brow.

She shook her head. “Now where would that sort of behavior leave your ledger?”

“Ledger.” He nodded, watching the regret flicker in her eyes, too late to eat the words. “I understand. What about the simple facts required to do my damn job? How am I supposed to provide the returns you’ve paid for?” He sat up, pulled his pants on one tired leg at a time.

She stood, slicing him with blood-letting eyes. “Enlighten me, Benjamin.”

He buttoned his fly, sat back down on the edge of the bed and scavenged the floor until he came up with a toothpick from his shirt pocket. Finally he took the map from his pants and tossed it on the bed. “For God’s sake, Gwendolyn. There’s a network of tunnels connecting Oleg to this very building. That’s not considered necessary information?”

She focused on the tattered piece of paper lying on her sheets, her face draining of color. “No.”

“Like hell. Oleander, that’s what Oleg calls the girl, told me as much. That’s how he conducted the attacks tonight, and it’s how he’s going to fleece you tomorrow. You put a lot of thought into getting the upper hand, shaking down the competition to build a personal empire. I get that. And you need the professor to draw the attention off yourself.” He began buttoning his shirt. “Dammed if I can get it through your arrogant hide, but Oleg is out of our control. I thought tonight would have convinced you of that. He’ll burn down the whole city before you can pull out the slack in his leash.” He tucked the front half of the shirt into his pants. “Which, by the way, is wrapped around your own feet.”

“That isn’t… How’d you get that?” Gwendolyn stuttered.

“Off the half-burned body of my mole. During my interrogation I deduced he got it from Oleander, Oleg’s favorite pet. At least he trusts his assets with vital information.” He stopped his diatribe briefly, musing to himself. “Hmm. I guess you’re right. Look where trust got
him
.”