Acts of Violence (21 page)

There was a
waist-height wall between the raised platform and the central area. If I didn’t
get shot the moment I went through the doors, I could take cover there. But
would it be taking cover or getting myself pinned down? I guessed that depended
on how many guys were in there.

As slowly as I’d
opened it, I let the door close again. Then I rolled to the other side and did
the same procedure with the right-hand door. The view was pretty much a mirror
of the last. Except this time, there was a guy crouched behind one of the
tables. He wore the same kind of suit as the bald guy lying behind me. Same
tie.

With the light out
here switched off, and the dim lighting inside the club proper, the enforcer
couldn’t see that the door was slightly open. With that knowledge, I watched
him for a minute. He seemed to be getting more and more tense. There’d been two
gunshots and then a cry of pain. Then silence. Their people hadn’t called the
all clear, so he had to assume something unpleasant was going to come through
these doors soon. But the longer the doors stayed shut, the more agitated he
became. The same would go for anyone else in there with him.

Finally, he gave me
what I wanted. He glanced to his left and raised a hand to the side. Questioning
another guy: what should they do? Then, probably after a shrug from his friend,
he looked over his shoulder towards the stage. Then up, to Van’s office. Finally,
back to the door.

So there were at
least three in the main club and at least one in Van’s office. I put my fist to
the floor so it would hold the door steady as I got my feet back under me. Once
I was crouched and ready to go, I decided on my targets. This guy I was watching
first. Then his first friend. Then his second. The one in Van’s office was
elevated, so I guessed it depended on whether or not he started shooting
through the window. He might take priority once I was inside.

The guy moved to a
closer table. Held up a closed fist to his first friend though, so I guessed he
was going to act as scout. Hopefully the others wouldn’t have moved from where
I’d approximated their positions.

The problem with
going in was that if I needed to retreat, these doors only opened one way. That
would slow me down and get me killed. But I didn’t intend to retreat. Not
unless there was a small army in there. I doubted it. Three down on the floor
and one in the office. That seemed about right. I allowed for two additional
enforcers lurking somewhere. I could still handle that number.

Fourteen plus one. I
had to remember to count my shots. Couldn’t let myself get caught with an empty
gun with shooters all around me. Both the other guns were ready to fire with
just a flick of the safety. Nothing more I could do to be prepared. And I was
getting bored.

The guy started to
move to the next table. So I went in.

I pushed the door a
couple of inches first. Then my pistol led the way. I fired three shots at him
to be safe. All three hit him and he collapsed, halfway to the next table. The
shots were exaggeratedly loud in the silence of the deserted club. So were the
next dozen or so.

Moving as quickly
and as low as I could to the little wall, I cast my eyes around wildly for the
other enforcers. From the looks of it, I’d guessed right. One was at the side
of the stage. A second was at a set of steps up to the raised platform. The
little wall had hidden him from me the first time I looked through.

I fired a couple of
shots at him as I reached the wall. Both missed. Bullets pounded the other side
of the wall and it was only then I realised that I hadn’t even considered how bullet-proof
it would be. Thankfully, it was nearly a foot thick and must have been solid,
because no bullets came out my side.

In the hopes of
keeping both guys in their places, I reached up and fired a couple of shots
over the top of the wall. Eight shots left.

Not far from me lay
the first guy’s gun. I was pretty confident two fully loaded guns backing up
this half-empty one was plenty. It could still help me though. I fired another
shot over the top of the wall. Then reached for the gun with my foot. It was a
stretch, but I hooked my foot round it and dragged it across the floor to my
hand.

From the half dozen
shots replying to my firing over the wall, I was pretty sure neither enforcer
had moved. I risked waiting ten seconds or so. It was hard to know what they’d
do. Some people would move to try to get a good angle on me. Others would stick
to their one spot, where they knew they had some cover. Wouldn’t risk getting
caught in the open. It was pretty stressful when, in the middle of a shootout,
your opponent disappeared. Staying put gave you some sense of security. But
these seemed to be experienced guys. So I simply had no idea what they’d do.

That in mind, ten
seconds was more than enough waiting. Aware that in the quiet even the smallest
movement stood a chance of giving my position away, I threw the gun. I made it
as smooth a movement as I could to minimise the sound of my sodden coat. Made
sure I threw it straight and low. It didn’t arc high enough to be seen over the
wall.

As I’d hoped, the
moment it clanged against a chair leg twenty or so feet away, the two guys
fired in the direction of my supposed new position. They hadn’t moved. I popped
round the side of the wall, where it opened to the steps down. From my angle I
could only see the second guy’s head. With him concentrating on another part of
the platform though, I was able to take the time to aim properly.

I fired two shots.
A puff of red on the other side of his head and him crumpling out of sight told
me the second had been unnecessary.

Now the third
shooter turned to me again and I had to pop back behind my cover. I glanced up
at Van’s office again. The glass was blocked out, so I had no idea how many
people were up there. But at least they weren’t shooting at me too.

The enforcer had
run out of bullets. I could hear him reloading. The sound was moving. It was my
best chance. I raised enough to fire over the top of the wall. The guy saw me
and took off running, so the first two shots were nowhere near. I fired the
remaining four bullets. Dropped the gun and pulled out the one from my left
pocket.

In the hail of
bullets, the enforcer had given up trying to reload. I was pretty sure he’d
even dropped his gun. Aware that it might be a trap, I ran after him. I kept my
eyes wide, but I couldn’t see anyone else lurking.

Before the staff
door closed, I saw the guy running up the stairs. I reached the door soon after
and kicked it open. There was no barrage of gunfire, so as it swung closed
again, I slipped through. The small hallway was empty. I put the gun in my left
hand and pulled out the other one from my waistband. I couldn’t shoot for shit
with my left hand, but there were too many potential hiding spots to cover with
just one gun.

With my right pistol,
I covered the back of the stage and the top of the stairs. With my left, I
covered the two doorways. One was closed. The doorway through to the dressing
room didn’t have a door. I edged towards it, but no one appeared from any
direction. Once there, I stuck my head through, but still there was no one to
be seen. With any luck, this enforcer with the bleached blonde buzz cut was the
last one here. I wasn’t lucky.

I quietly and
carefully started up the stairs, keeping one gun trained through the open back
to the stage. After a few steps, I saw that the door was closed and the glass
was opaque again. That wasn’t particularly good for me. They could see me
coming, but I couldn’t see them. They could shoot me before I even reached the
door.

The first enforcer had
looked in three places. One of them was up here. The other two places had been
where his friends were standing. Up here wouldn’t be an exception. That meant there
were at least two in the office now.

The blonde had
dropped his gun. Could have got another one from inside, but maybe not. Even
after I killed two of the guys downstairs, whoever else was in there hadn’t
shot at me, even though they had a good vantage point and the cover of opaque
glass. Did that mean there were no guns in the office? It was a risky
assumption.

I fired two shots
through the door. Ducked down low. No one fired back. That was promising. I
still didn’t want to risk it. I took the stairs back down two at a time,
putting the second gun away again. Still careful not to let my guard down, I
grabbed a stool from the dressing room through the doorway to the right. Then I
went halfway up the stairs. Had to put my gun down on the step for a moment.
That gave me both hands to hurl the stool through the cracked glass of the
door.

There was a muffled
curse but still no shots. I grabbed the gun and raced up. Through the empty doorframe,
I couldn’t see anyone, but it sounded like the curse had come from the right. I
aimed that way as soon as I was inside.

One enforcer stood beside
the leather couch. He wasn’t blonde.

I ducked too late. Whatever
the second guy hit me with struck the top of my head. It would probably have
knocked me out if I hadn’t moved. Still knocked me down though. The glancing
blow must have knocked him off balance because when I rolled, he was only
turning back to me. He knew he’d lost his chance and he ran for it. Ducked at
the same time, so when I shot at his head, it missed. At the door, my second
shot found his arm. He cried and swore but kept running. The third shot missed
too.

Then I had other
problems. The other enforcer took the opportunity to try to grab my gun. Wasn’t
that much of a problem really. Because of how far over me he had to reach, it
was easily remedied by my knee to his face.

He stumbled
backwards to where he’d been when I first entered. I climbed to my feet, trying
to count how many shots I had left. Twelve. Still seventeen in the other one
though.

I noted that the
blonde didn’t run through the club. He must have headed for the back door.
DeMartino would take care of him. With a bullet or handcuffs, I didn’t care.

‘What are you doing
here?’ I asked the enforcer while he blinked hard, cupping his right eye.
‘Where’s Van?’

‘Mr. Van Graaf’s
services were no longer required,’ he said. Still trying to be smooth through
bloody, gritted teeth. ‘He was let go.’

I hoped that didn’t
mean what it almost certainly did.

‘Why are you in
Harem?’

‘Cole Webster
wasn’t meeting his quota. He thought the pretty blue sand he found in the
mountain was more worth his time.’

I hesitated. ‘You’re
telling me Webster’s really mining that mountain?’

‘Of course. He
always was. But until recently, it was just a cover. Nothing much came out of
it. But then he found some blue stuff in there. Found buyers for it. Worth a
fortune. My bosses wouldn’t have minded, but it affected his operation with us.’

I almost wanted to
laugh. Webster was running a genuine mining operation. Sure, there was the
trafficking too, but still… ‘And why are you telling me this?’

‘You asked.
Besides, you’ll need to be up to speed when you start working for us.’

I hesitated again. That
came out of nowhere. ‘Your pretty girlfriend must have hit me harder than I
thought. I could swear you said work for you.’ He smiled. Spat some blood out.
Then smiled again. ‘And why would I be working for you?’

He just stood there
grinning like an idiot. I wanted to shoot him. But I didn’t know what
information he could still give me. And there was something unnerving about
that smile. Like he knew something he shouldn’t.

I shot the floor
between his feet. Cracks spread in the glass outward from the hole. I was
pretty sure it was reinforced, and would take more bullets than I had and still
not give way. But it still might unnerve the enforcer.

The smile
disappeared. I couldn’t tell if it had frightened him or not though. Probably
not. Might have seen worse than a fifteen-foot fall. He probably knew it was
reinforced too. Still, at least it had got rid of the smile.

‘Where’s Van?’ I
decided to take a few steps back to the more pressing question.

‘He’s downstairs,
if it’s that important to you.’

‘Where’s the data
chip from the girl?’

‘You’re just full
of questions, aren’t you?’

‘And full of pent
up rage and in possession of twenty-eight bullets.’ I pulled out the second
gun. ‘Where’s the data chip?’

‘I have no idea.’

I fired another
shot into the floor. He took a quick step back. I fired a shot just past him
with the other gun. Used the right-hand gun, since I’d have probably hit him by
mistake with the left. He tried hard not to, but I saw him flinch.

‘Where’s the chip?’
I asked again.

He smiled.

I fired a shot with
the left this time. Knee level, just in case. He stepped back again. Another
with the right, on his other side this time. Another flinch. Then for the hell
of it, I did it again. A third step back and he hit the window. He flinched a
little more at that. He was more jumpy than he was letting on. His eyes flicked
down the short trail of bullet holes following him and the cracks all around
them. I hoped I was right about the glass. I didn’t care if he went through,
but if that end of the floor gave way, the rest would follow.

In the quiet after
the gunshots, I heard a strange sound. It was almost a pleasant sound. I knew
it was the sound of cracking glass. The enforcer’s eyes told me he’d heard it
too. But we both realised at the same time that it was the glass behind him,
not below him.

The cracks spread
slowly, like lines drawn by an invisible hand. They connected the bullet holes.
Then all was silent again.

I took a moment to
glance around the office for any clue as to what the guy was doing up here. On
Van’s desk, the enforcer’s gun sat with its slide back. Empty. That’s why he
hadn’t shot at me. The cause of its missing contents seemed to be Van. His
chair had several ragged holes in it. Each hole was in the middle of a bloodstain.