Jensen. He wouldn’t have
rented to them if he thought they’d let him say no. Those bastards seem to get
what they want, every time, and they have connections outside, I don’t know
where, but more of ‘em would arrive, and then more. I don’t even know how many
are in that damned factory, but they seem to live there, most of ‘em.”
“What
could they be doing there? And why would they need jewelry from some race
who’ve been fossils for gods know how long?”
Boss
Vassas rubbed his heavy jowls. “And why would they kill high-profile targets to
get them? You’d think they’d at least have enough sense to not piss off people
like me.”
“Does
that mean you’ll hit them?”
Boss
Vassas looked at Tavlin, then turned his gaze to the flames. After a long
moment, he said, “I don’t know.”
Tavlin
studied him. “You don’t know how strong they are.”
“And
I don’t know what resources they have. They have weapons that can turn people
into ... well, whatever. Nothing human-looking. White mush.” His face twitched,
and Tavlin knew he must be thinking about Nancy, about what his beloved had
been turned into. “Maybe that makes sense if they’re Octunggen. They say Octung
has been developing extradimensional weapons for a long time in preparation for
their war. Maybe the boys in the factory have more than just the one weapon.”
He grunted, as if something had just occurred to him. “Maybe that’s why they
used it, to scare people like me off, if we should find out who did it.”
“So
what then? Sit and let them continue doing whatever they’re doing, right in
your own backyard? That doesn’t sound like the Boss Vassas I know.”
Vassas’s
expression darkened, and when his eyes swiveled to Tavlin, they were sharp as
knives. All of a sudden Tavlin remembered whom he was speaking with.
“What
was that?” Vassas said, his voice eerily neutral.
Tavlin
made himself swallow. “Nothing, Boss.” He busied himself with renewing the
flame on his pipe, which had gone out.
Vassas
cracked his knuckles and paced back and forth before the fire. He had asked to
speak with Tavlin alone, but now Tavlin half-wished someone else were in the
room. If nothing else, it would give the Boss someone else to focus on if he
got mad.
“I
need to know more about them,” Vassas said. He opened his mouth to say
something more, but just then gunshots pierced the night.
As
one, Tavlin and Vassas ran for the door.
They
dashed downstairs to the first floor, then made their way through the chaos
toward the front entrance. Most everyone else was rushing away from it. Vassas’s men had moved toward the front, and from
that direction more gunshots rang out. Vassas pulled out a pistol and Tavlin
pulled out his stolen piece as they reached the entrance, and they stepped out
into the street.
A
dozen motorcycles roared off spitting black smoke. Each one had a sidecar, and
gunmen in the sidecars turned and fired back at the men who stood before the
Wide-Mouth. Tavlin hit the ground shooting. Several of Vassas’s other men
hunkered low, as well, and the cracks of their guns popped like fireworks. When
Tavlin glanced back, he saw Vassas standing tall and indomitable, eyes
narrowed, smoke curling up from his large, oiled revolver as fire spat from its
barrel.
The
motorcyclists swerved out of sight and the gunfire stopped.
Several
men were down, and Vassas and his people knelt over them and gave what help
they could. Someone called the house doctor. Tavlin assisted in staunching
wounds and tying tourniquets. His head spun, and his heart performed a mad jig
in his chest. Four men had been shot, and one was clearly dead, his brains
leaking on the sidewalk, shards of skull flecking the puddle.
Another
body lay twisted in the street further from the Wide-Mouth’s entrance than the
others. When the wounded were seen to, Vassas, with Frankie beside him, made
his way to the body and stared down at it. Tavlin joined them. The corpse
rented to them if he thought they’d let him say no. Those bastards seem to get
what they want, every time, and they have connections outside, I don’t know
where, but more of ‘em would arrive, and then more. I don’t even know how many
are in that damned factory, but they seem to live there, most of ‘em.”
“What
could they be doing there? And why would they need jewelry from some race
who’ve been fossils for gods know how long?”
Boss
Vassas rubbed his heavy jowls. “And why would they kill high-profile targets to
get them? You’d think they’d at least have enough sense to not piss off people
like me.”
“Does
that mean you’ll hit them?”
Boss
Vassas looked at Tavlin, then turned his gaze to the flames. After a long
moment, he said, “I don’t know.”
Tavlin
studied him. “You don’t know how strong they are.”
“And
I don’t know what resources they have. They have weapons that can turn people
into ... well, whatever. Nothing human-looking. White mush.” His face twitched,
and Tavlin knew he must be thinking about Nancy, about what his beloved had
been turned into. “Maybe that makes sense if they’re Octunggen. They say Octung
has been developing extradimensional weapons for a long time in preparation for
their war. Maybe the boys in the factory have more than just the one weapon.”
He grunted, as if something had just occurred to him. “Maybe that’s why they
used it, to scare people like me off, if we should find out who did it.”
“So
what then? Sit and let them continue doing whatever they’re doing, right in
your own backyard? That doesn’t sound like the Boss Vassas I know.”
Vassas’s
expression darkened, and when his eyes swiveled to Tavlin, they were sharp as
knives. All of a sudden Tavlin remembered whom he was speaking with.
“What
was that?” Vassas said, his voice eerily neutral.
Tavlin
made himself swallow. “Nothing, Boss.” He busied himself with renewing the
flame on his pipe, which had gone out.
Vassas
cracked his knuckles and paced back and forth before the fire. He had asked to
speak with Tavlin alone, but now Tavlin half-wished someone else were in the
room. If nothing else, it would give the Boss someone else to focus on if he
got mad.
“I
need to know more about them,” Vassas said. He opened his mouth to say
something more, but just then gunshots pierced the night.
As
one, Tavlin and Vassas ran for the door.
They
dashed downstairs to the first floor, then made their way through the chaos
toward the front entrance. Most everyone else was rushing away from it. Vassas’s men had moved toward the front, and from
that direction more gunshots rang out. Vassas pulled out a pistol and Tavlin
pulled out his stolen piece as they reached the entrance, and they stepped out
into the street.
A
dozen motorcycles roared off spitting black smoke. Each one had a sidecar, and
gunmen in the sidecars turned and fired back at the men who stood before the
Wide-Mouth. Tavlin hit the ground shooting. Several of Vassas’s other men
hunkered low, as well, and the cracks of their guns popped like fireworks. When
Tavlin glanced back, he saw Vassas standing tall and indomitable, eyes
narrowed, smoke curling up from his large, oiled revolver as fire spat from its
barrel.
The
motorcyclists swerved out of sight and the gunfire stopped.
Several
men were down, and Vassas and his people knelt over them and gave what help
they could. Someone called the house doctor. Tavlin assisted in staunching
wounds and tying tourniquets. His head spun, and his heart performed a mad jig
in his chest. Four men had been shot, and one was clearly dead, his brains
leaking on the sidewalk, shards of skull flecking the puddle.
Another
body lay twisted in the street further from the Wide-Mouth’s entrance than the
others. When the wounded were seen to, Vassas, with Frankie beside him, made
his way to the body and stared down at it. Tavlin joined them. The corpse
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