This Machine Kills (38 page)

   He threw himself at Rudy with all the speed he could generate but he was fractionally too slow; the other man had already got a shot off. Taylor screamed as the two collided, somehow managing to wrap his arms around Rudy’s neck. The bullet had entered his shoulder, shattering the bone before exiting his body. He had suffered injuries before but nothing like this, it felt like molten metal was being poured into the wound.

   Rudy got off another couple of rounds. The noise from the shots almost deafened Taylor but they had done him no further harm. Their bodies were crushed together in such a way that the rifle pressed against both of their chests, leaving the shots to rip through the ceiling. As Rudy struggled to free himself, Taylor knew he was in desperate trouble. Although he had his right arm around Rudy’s neck, it was now useless. He could feel his power ebbing away, not even being able to make a fist to clench the man’s clothing. All he could do was try to hang on as Rudy fought to shake him off. Knowing that he only had seconds to spare, Taylor leant in and sunk his teeth into Rudy’s nose.

   He bit down with all his might, feeling his teeth going first through skin and flesh, then bone and gristle. Rudy let out a high pitched wail that sounded like it had come more from an animal than a man, but instead of making him wilt, the pain only seemed to energise him. With a roar of fury he head-butted Taylor, then as he stumbled backwards, slammed the stock of the weapon into his face, knocking him to the floor.

   When his head cleared, Taylor looked up to see Rudy’s rifle pointing at him once more. Blood poured down either side of Rudy’s mouth
,
completely saturating his shirt. In the centre of his face were now two holes that had once been the inner recesses of his nostrils. Dangling from his upper lip, connected only by a thin strand of gristle, were the mangled remains of his nose.

   “Too slow, motherfucker,” he said, the blood making popping bubbles in his mouth as he spoke.

   “Yeah, well,” Taylor managed to say, “I got your nose didn’t I?”

   Rudy shrugged again, ignoring the pain, “Big deal, the boys in the lab will grow me a new one… Now do as you’re told and die.”

   Despite his injuries, he still managed a smile as he aimed his weapon at Taylor’s prone form.

   “Put it down Rudy!” a voice shouted from the entrance of the building.

   Taylor looked back to see Doyle dressed in a shiny, new SecForce uniform. His weapon was directed at Rudy’s head.

   “Doyle,” the man who now looked more like an extra from a horror movie, said. His voice carried a distinct lack of surprise,

   “I should have known you’d turn up. Come to fight Taylor’s battles again?”

   Doyle had a look on his face that made him look a formidable opponent to any adversary.

   “They’re my battles too now. You got me involved when you tried to kill me, remember?”

   Rudy gave out a weary laugh, “Why don’t you just put the gun down son. We both know you’re not going to use it… You haven’t got what it takes.”

   He turned his attention and weapon back to Taylor, disregarding Doyle, “Just like you Sarge. You taught him well.”

   Tilting his head towards the rifle’s scope, Rudy was struck by three bullets in the chest. The force of the shots sent him careering into the mirrored wall behind. He stared at Doyle with wide eyes, trying to work out what had just happened to him, then slumped to his knees, letting out a heavy sigh. As his lids slowly began to close, Doyle spoke; making sure Rudy heard his words,

   “And just so you know,” he said, “ I never liked you either.”

   This final insult amused Rudy. He smiled at Doyle, then shut his eyes and slumped forward in a heap.

   Too exhausted to get up, Taylor waited for Doyle’s assistance to be dragged back to his feet.

   “You took your time,” he said as his helper did his best to lift him.

   “Yeah well,” Doyle answered, trying to avoid contact with Taylor’s bloodied shoulder, “I can only save your ass so many times in one day
,
old man.”

   It was only the pain that stopped Taylor from laughing.

Chapter 31

   Doyle had to catch Taylor to stop him from collapsing as they stepped into the lift. He leant the bloodied man against the gold lacquered wall of the tiny room and punched the button that would transport them to the top floor.

   “How are you feeling?” he asked.

   Taylor gave a tired nod. He looked like he had been involved in a car crash, 

   “Tip-top.”

   After taking out Rudy, Doyle had done his best to dress Taylor’s wounds. Muscle and tendon
were exposed and a fragment of bone sat dangerously close to an artery. Doyle had had to skilfully use his knife to remove the offending object. The pain he could just about bear, but what really frightened Taylor was the blood loss. The bullet may have missed the artery, but from the dark red liquid that continuously seeped from the wound, it was clear a vein had been severed.  By applying a tightly packed dressing made from his new SecForce jacket, Doyle had been able to slow the flow of blood enough for them to continue.

   “So how did you do it?” Taylor asked, trying his best to stop his eyes from closing.

   “Piece of cake,” Doyle said, “as soon as I got back to the City, Milton and his cronies were waiting for me. I told him you’d gone rogue but got the feeling he didn’t believe me. I had to make out I had internal injuries from the beating you gave me just to avoid getting sent to the interrogation suites. The fucker wouldn’t buy it until I pretended to pass out in front of him.”

   He was interrupted by Taylor breaking into a violent coughing fit. After using his hand to stifle the outburst, he looked at his palm and saw it was painted with dark, bloody specks.

   When the coughing subsided, Doyle started again,

   “Luckily they bought it and transported me to the hospital where I took out the guard and stole his uniform and swipe-card. After that I went to SecForce headquarters, shut the security system down for the entire city and opened the gates for you boys. Like I say, piece of cake.”

   It was a conversation with Mason that had made Taylor realise the City’s new security system had one monumental flaw. Whilst the place would be almost impenetrable to infiltrate from outside, it would still be relatively easy for anyone already in the City to destroy the wall’s defences, should they have the right information. Luckily for Taylor, he did. He knew that from the newly created room on the top floor of SecForce’s headquarters, the operation of each of the four doors to the City could be overridden. It was a failsafe system that had been introduced in case the doors were stormed before the guards manning them could react. Milton had personally insisted on their installation.

    “And what about HQ?” Taylor asked, “did you get in ok?”

    “Yeah, no problem,” Doyle said nonchalantly, “like I said, I had a swipe-card. The place was like a morgue; everyone must have been at the gates. The only people I did see were in the control room. I went where you told me and when I found the room, I shot a few holes in the door and walked straight in. The guys inside shit themselves when they realised I wasn’t joking. I got them to open the east and west gates first, then they opened yours.”

   Taylor couldn’t help but look at him with admiration. Without considering the consequences, Doyle had quietly done everything asked of him with a bravery he was pretty sure he didn’t possess himself.

   Doyle shook his head, “What I can’t understand is why would they make it so easy for us?”

   Taylor forced himself off the wall so his feet bore all his weight,

   “Because they never believed any sane person would ever want to open the gates.”

   “Perhaps they were right,” Doyle answered, “we may have just done the stupidest thing ever.”

   The lift made a pinging noise when the doors opened. As Taylor stepped out, he glanced across to his friend,

   “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

   The lobby in Milton’s penthouse was deserted, its usual collection of guards having long disappeared.

   “You stay here,” Taylor said when they got to the entrance, “call me if anything happens.”

   Doyle nodded.

   “And thank you,” he added, “for everything.”

   Doyle looked to the grand doors his friend was about to walk through,  

   “You better go, I don’t think we’ve got much time.”

   Taylor nodded then started forwards, stopping after only a few steps,

   “I’m going to need your gun.”

   Freddie Milton stood with his back to Taylor, staring out of the huge glass windows of his apartment. If he heard footsteps approaching, he didn’t react, focusing his gaze instead on the fires that were springing up across his ruined city.

   When Taylor was nearly within touching distance and able to share the apocalyptic view, Milton turned to face him.

   “Ah Taylor,” he said, his voice lacking surprise, “it’s you.”

   “You were expecting me?”

   Milton sighed, “I had a feeling you’d turn up at some point.”

   As he spoke, his eyes moved to Taylor’s bloody shoulder.

   “You’re hurt,” he said with a genuine look of concern, “let me help you.”

   Milton moved absently towards the kitchen.

   “No,” Taylor answered sternly.

   “But it will get infected. I need to take care of it.”

   Taylor stepped into Milton’s path, stopping him in his tracks, “That’s not why I’m here.”

   “No,” Milton replied, “I don’t suppose it is.”

   “Why?” Taylor said as the two men studied each other, “Why did you do it?”

   Milton said nothing back, his expression hardening as Taylor spoke.

   “How could you kill your own wife. I thought you loved her.”

  
When Milton replied, his voice was measured, but only just, “You think it was me… you think I killed Charlotte?”

   “There’s no point denying it, it could have only been you, you son of a bitch… You didn’t need to kill her, she wouldn’t have left you.”
 

   The sudden look of fury on Milton’s face took Taylor by surprise. Even though he was armed, and even without a gun could have killed the man in a dozen different ways, he took a half-step backwards.

   “So that’s what this is all about,” Milton said, “you’ve destroyed my city, everything I ever worked for, because you think I killed my wife. What on earth do you think would make me do that you idiot?”

   A sickly smile appeared on his face, “Not because of what the two of you were doing?”

   The smile turned to a look of disgust.

   “You think I killed her because of you,” he cast his eyes down the length of Taylor’s body, looking at him like a wealthy man whose daughter had brought home a boyfriend of a different race.

   “You don’t really think you were the first of her playthings do you?”

   His laugh cut straight through Taylor.

   “I knew about you and her all along. Why do you think I hired you? You don’t think I believed in those ridiculous self-defence lessons do you?”

   “You knew?”

   “We loved each other, and so we tolerated each other’s interests. Mine was my city and hers… well hers was her men. Sorry to bruise your ego but you weren’t the first man she slept with behind my back.”

   “Bollocks,” Taylor answered half-heartedly, “she loved me.”

   Milton was smiling again, “Is that what she told you?”

   Taylor thought back to the night Charlotte had come to his apartment and he had told her he loved her. He’d thought she had said she loved him too as she cried in his arms, but now, he couldn’t be so sure.

   His silence only encouraged Milton, “I’m sure she made you feel like you were special, she was good at that. That’s what brought us together, back when she was a whore.”   

   The crassness of the word coming from a man like Milton made Taylor grimace.

   “She made me feel like I was special too, that’s why I married her…. Do you know how hard it was for me at first, with my friends and colleagues laughing behind my back? I could hear their whispered conversations, ‘Look at Milton, all that power and he marries a prostitute.’ Most of them had fucked her for Christ sake… But I ignored them because I loved her, and I know she loved me too.”

   Taylor wanted to argue with him. He wanted to tell Milton that he was wrong, that Charlotte had loved him and was ready to leave her husband so the two of them could be together. He wanted to tell him what they had done in his bed and how the two of them would have been happy together in different circumstances, but he didn’t say any of those things. Instead he felt his hand rise to the waist of his jeans where his fingertips brushed the handle of Doyle’s pistol. Now all he wanted to do was repeatedly smash the butt of the weapon into Milton’s face until his features collapsed into a bloody mess.