Four Bloody Kisses

by AJ Wyatt

  As we passed sub-basement two, I began spraying the WD-40 on Sokolov's crotch, liberally soaking him down until there was a puddle all over his lap, dripping down his legs. Finally, the door dinged, and I took the lighter out of his jacket pocket.

  “You should have joined the quit smoking club.”

  Then I set him on fire and rolled his screaming ass out in front of me as I started to run.

  18

  If I could have guessed the reaction the four guards might have to their own boss, on fire and screaming, rolling towards them at high speed, it would have been a combination of fear and confusion. From the looks on their faces, I guessed right. They raised their guns but didn't fire because I was ducking behind the chair. One of them holstered his gun and ran forward to catch the chair. Another took his jacket off to beat down the flames eating through Sokolov's trousers.

  I shot both of them and kicked Sokolov ahead into the others.

  The office chair snagged on one of the dead men's legs and tumbled over, causing Sokolov's screams to intensify as the flames licked up his chest and face when he plunged forward.

  I fired until I ran out of bullets and then grabbed for the guns on the dead men.

  Four guards lay dead, and I heard voices raised inside the vault, screaming in Russian. Sokolov was saying something too, but it was mostly incoherent except for the curse words. Another voice in Russian yelled out over the chaos.

  This one I knew: Yuri.

  “You are all traitors and fucking dead. I will cut out your tongues and your dicks and…”

  He was going to cut off a lot, it turned out. I ran for the vault door and slammed into the wall just as someone stuck their pistol around the corner and tried to shoot. I dropped low and caught his wrist, shot through his elbow, and took his gun. He stumbled forward, clutching his bleeding elbow, and took a bullet between the eyes.

  Two men came out together and walked into a hail of bullets. I shot with both pistols. They got off a couple of shots themselves that hit the wall behind me.

  It would have been better for them to wait, but they were in a bad spot. They'd gone against Yuri, which was terrible news, and the guy who they thought was going to be their new boss was burning alive in the hallway. So they couldn't exactly turtle up in there and wait for me to come after them. Their lives depended on putting Sokolov out before he died.

  I leaned over one of the bodies at my feet and took the cell phone from his pocket. I couldn’t unlock it, of course, but the black screen made for a decent mirror. I used it to peer around the corner and see what I was dealing with.

  The boys were tied to the posts of two of the bunk beds, all of them in a row, sitting on the floor with their hands bound overhead. Behind Talon was Blair, armed with a very serious-looking uzi. Even if she didn't know how to use it, she could cut someone in half by sneezing at the wrong time. I tilted the phone around and didn't spot anyone else.

  She was the last one left.

  “I’m coming in,” I said.

  “What?” She called. “I can’t hear you.”

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  I had to double back and pick up a jacket off the floor and use that and my foot to stomp out the fire on Sokolov so he’d stop screaming. There was no communicating over that sound he was making. Thankfully, once he was out, he lost consciousness.

  “I said I’m coming in," I repeated. "If you point that uzi at me, we are going to have a gunfight, you understand? Personally, I think we should start with talking."

  “Alright.”

  Her voice and a tremble in it. That could be good or bad. Sometimes a professional could be very predictable. A difficult opponent maybe, but you knew what they would do. Amateurs could do any crazy thing their emotional baggage made seem like a good idea at the time.

  I mean, I just set a guy on fire and rolled him down a hallway, but I’d argue that was a very professional way to handle things.

  I stepped out and kept my pistol low. It wasn’t mine, though. It was some dead asshole's. So I was counting on four shots left in the magazine. If said asshole had used some already or just decided to put less in for some reason, I'd be in trouble.

  “I’m not going to negotiate,” she said.

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  Her eyes were flickering with the beginning of tears.

  "I just need to kill them," she said. "All four of them. Once it's done, I get the company."

  “Why didn’t you kill them already then?”

  "I can pay you when it's done. You could have anything. A hundred million in stock options. Sell them, keep them. Do whatever you want. A hundred million dollars."

  “Why didn’t you kill them already, Blair?”

  “They….the people who’ve been helping me…they wanted to know who you are. I needed them to tell me who you are before I killed them. That was the deal.”

  “They don’t know who I am. Not the way you mean.”

  She laughed. A wild, high-pitched sound.

  "It doesn't fucking matter, does it?" She said. "You could be anybody. We'll make something up. Who gives a shit? I'll be rich, and you'll be rich. Come on! This is a great deal. You don't have to fuck them for their money anymore. You can just have it.”

  “I need them.”

  Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  “Two hundred million.”

  I shook my head.

  “Please. I have to do this.”

  “Blair, do you know what I am?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “That man from the CIA said you were a killer. He told me some of the things you’d done. To men, to women.”

  "Did he tell you that when one of the other assassins broke the rules and had to be hunted down, they would send me to kill them?"

  She nodded.

  "Good. I'm going to give you a chance to live, Blair. You put that gun down right now, and I won't kill you. The moment you make your choice, I'll see it in your eyes. I'll know. And you won’t feel it when you die. You’ll just be gone.”

  Her breath caught as she cried harder. I thought she would beg, but she didn't. Instead, she lowered the uzi to the floor carefully and set it down. Then she took a few steps back and sat on a bunk, and wept into her hands.

  I cut Yuri loose first and gave him the uzi.

  “Sokolov is in the hall.”

  Yuri grit his teeth and stalked out into the hall after his wayward second in command. I expected shots but heard none, and when I checked, Yuri stood over an empty chair.

  “I must go,” he said.

  “Go get him.”

  I cut Talon loose next and looked him in the eye. Things weren't alright between us. I could feel that much. But they didn’t seem too broken either. I handed him the knife I’d found.

  “You can handle things from here,” I said. “It would be…better if I wasn’t here when the police get here. If they haven’t surrounded the building already.”

  He leaned forward and whispered, “You can hide in Vice’s office. I’ll let you know when it’s clear.”

  And he smiled at me just right. So I leaned in, and when he didn't resist, I gave him a long kiss.

  “I could hide with you,” Vice said, grinning. “You can tie me up again when we get there.”

  Magnus made a sound like hmmph.

  “You can fly the helicopter,” he said. “We could all hide in the hot tub.”

  19

  As it turned out, the police had their own chopper in the air already, so I had to wait. It wasn't bad. Vice kept me company. When we got the all-clear, we took the helicopter back to the ranch and assessed the damage.

  Vice and Talon made the rounds, contacting repair people and painters and the like. Trucks began to arrive around 10PM, people being paid much more than they usually would have been to do the job on short notice. I stretched out in the hot tub and let Magnus soothe the aches out of my muscles with a glorious back rub.

  The weirdness was there with all
of them, except Vice, who didn't give a shit about anything as long as it was fun. But they kept it to themselves mostly. Yuri arrived the next day, and we sat around the table, getting the news.

  Sokolov had escaped and taken more than half of Yuri’s people with him.

  “Will there be a war, then?” Magnus asked.

  “If there is, it will be short. If it goes on too long, the Pakhan in Moscow will choose, and no one will follow the loser after that.”

  “Would he choose you?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” he said, but he sounded doubtful.

  Something changed when the repairs were done. It was like things went back to how they'd been before, for a while. Everyone seemed to forget the things that still hung between us. Sometimes I would surprise Talon in the shower. Sometimes I would go to Vice's room later that night and lose myself in his chaotic madness for hours. Afterward, I'd stagger out on weak legs and stumble to my own bed to pass out.

  Magnus had to leave after a few days. He said he couldn’t let his classes go any longer, and he’d already been gone too long. He and I had spoken the least, and I wondered if it was because he seemed to know me the best, on the inside.

  “One day,” he said before he left, “We will have to talk.”

  “One day,” I agreed.

  The boys came and went after that. Yuri was busy, obviously. Talon had a company to run and Vice…I mean, he could be pretty lazy, but even he found something to do for a few days. Trib and I increasingly spent afternoons and sometimes whole days alone on the ranch, and it was beautiful. I don't think that I'd ever had so much rest in ten years.

  A part of me didn't like it. The part that was afraid to get soft, to let my guard down. But I ignored that part for once.

  The only person who never stopped working was Trib.

  On one of those long summer afternoons, she came to find me.

  “I got something,” Trib said.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  "Drone trailing Yuri picked it up outside a Bratva safe house. It's a shotgun mic, so the audio had a lot of wind interference, but I could land the drone near the window and use sound-canceling to clear most of the white noise out. What's left is a little crackly, but you can tell who's who."

  “Show me.”

  I closed my eyes and let the audio soak in through my headphones. It was a rough recording, but Trib was right. I had no trouble telling who was speaking.

  “You’re sure there aren’t any bugs?” Vice asked. “Trib is a little obsessed with planting them.”

  “A little obsessed?” Talon asked. “I still don’t know how she keeps finding me. I’ve changed clothes three times today and showered at the office. It’s making me paranoid.”

  “I think she’s putting trackers in our rectums while we sleep,” Vice said.

  “Gentlemen…” Magnus said, clearing his throat.

  Someone was pacing around. Probably Yuri.

  “Fine, to business then,” Talon said. “The question is: Who is she?”

  “If the four of us are together, it can only be one thing,” Magnus said. “It is something to do with what happened in Iowa.”

  A palpable silence fell. For nearly a minute, I waited and held my breath.

  “That man,” Yuri said. “He told us he had no family. He was alone.”

  “What would you have said in his place?" Vice asked. "Of course, he didn't want to tell us. And even if he had no family, he could have had friends. People who cared."

  “People who might send a CIA assassin after us?” Talon asked.

  "I do not think so," Magnus said slowly. "I do not think she was sent. This is personal for her."

  "I agree," Yuri said. "We can all say now, without shame, that if she wanted us dead, we would be dead. What she wants is different, but what is it?"

  “What about you?” Vice asked. “You knew her from before. Knew her quite well, I believe.”

  “To have a woman like that come to my life….I thought it was fate. But to have it happen twice… Even fate is not so kind to me. But to answer your question, I know nothing about her. Nothing about facts. I like to think that I know her soul.”

  “Well, that’s helpful,” Talon said, sighing.

  “You are spending plenty of time with her,” Yuri bristled. “What have you found out? It’s the same for you, isn’t it? She’s told you nothing of herself.”

  “Let’s not fight,” Magnus said. “We can agree that we must find out what we can about her. There must be some trail that leads to who she is.”

  “Her name will be fake,” Vice said. “CIA assassins don’t introduce themselves by their real names.”

  “Iowa is key,” Yuri said. “The man from Iowa.”

  “Agreed,” Vice said. “I’ll fly over and spend a few days digging.”

  They exchanged goodbyes, and the recording ended. Trib took off her headphones and looked at me expectantly. It took me a while to process. I don't know how long I was lost in thought. They knew my father. They knew what happened to him. The man in Iowa could only be him.

  “So that’s where Vice is,” I said, finally.

  “If he looks into your father, he could find something.”

  "Winterset, Iowa has about five thousand people, most of whom keep to themselves and don't like outsiders. He can dig around, but I don't think he'll find much. After I got out of the marines, I destroyed most of what tied me to that place. You won't find my birth certificate on file there or my high school yearbook at the library. A lot of places were digitizing things by ten years ago, but not Winterset. They're still in the Stone Age. You need to find paper copies of everything. Public records and all that. And I already looked all that up and destroyed it.”

  “No old boyfriends? Girls from school who might recognize you?”

  "No. I wasn't allowed to date. And I grew six inches after I left. I was a short, chubby tomboy with braces when I lived there. If you saw a picture of me then, you probably wouldn't recognize me either. They buried my father in an unmarked grave at a pauper's cemetery. There's nothing left of me there to find."

  “Alright, so what do we do?” She asked.

  “We keep digging into them until we find the truth. Which reminds me, what have you got on Magnus?”

  Trib smiled. "You and Magnus have a lot in common, actually. Before about a dozen years ago, he basically doesn't exist. I think he's living under an assumed name. Whatever his real identity is, it's hidden well. I think we'd actually have to go to Sweden and dig around to find anything. Apparently, Winterset isn't the only place stuck in the Stone Age."

  “Sweden, huh?” I said. “We’ll have to find a reason to go.”

  20

  “Let me just say one thing,” I said.

  Blair sat behind the plexiglass at Federal Prison Camp, Bryan's visitor's center, as I questioned her. It'd been only days since I'd screwed up her plans and got her arrested. Technically, I just stopped her from killing everyone, I guess. Talon did the rest. His lawyers earned their fat paychecks wrecking the rest of Miss Blair's case for ownership at Osborne Energy, and the State's Attorney was bringing a boatload of charges to a grand jury.

  For all that, things surprisingly hushed. You'd barely know she'd kidnapped two of the richest men in the world. Things like that were usually big and loud in the press, but it was deathly silent this time. I wondered how much my old bosses at the CIA had to do with that. Put a National Security stamp on something, and suddenly, the papers got very shy about printing it.

  "Whoever these people are," I said, "They have to assume you're going to turn State's Evidence on them. You'll spill your guts, go into witness protection. Everyone does."

  “I won’t,” she said. “I’ll do the time. I don’t care. They know I won’t talk.”

  “And you don’t mind doing all that time?” I asked. “Your lawyers aren’t returning your calls now that you’re not rich anymore. They’re talking about state charges, federal charges. People are lining up t
o add years to your sentence.”

  "Like you said, it's a life. As long as I keep my mouth shut, I get to live. And it's not so bad here. I have a nice cellmate. Books. They let us watch TV on Wednesdays."

  “Even if you won’t testify, you can tell me. You can tell me what was in Section 7. Why it was important enough to kill for. You can tell me who they are. You can tell me why it’s all hidden in your mainframe under a folder called Iowa Holdings. What’s in Iowa?”

  Blair smiled. “Not oil, I can tell you that.”

  “Come on. I won’t tell the police. I won’t tell anyone. Just me.”

  “Why should I?”

  I thought about that.

  “Because if I were them, even if I were sure you wouldn't talk, I wouldn't leave that up to chance. You might not turn State's Evidence. You might hold out. But you might also let something slip to your nice cell mate someday. Or to me. If you're here twenty years or thirty years….you might tell anyone, just to have someone to tell. A priest. Can they take that chance? I'm really asking you because I don't know who they are. Are they the kind of people who take chances like that?"

  Blair sat back and folded her arms across her chest. She waited out the rest of the visiting time like that. Just watching me. Before the guard took her away, she said one last thing:

  "There's nothing money can't buy if you have enough of it."

  I'd planned to come back the following week and every week after until she opened up and told me something I could use, but it didn't work out that way.

  She was found dead in her cell a few hours after my visit.

  21

  "It didn't sit right with me," the old methodist preacher said as he walked down the rows of the tiny church cemetery. "Sam was a good fellow, and since no one paid for a marker, I thought I'd put one out myself. It's the cheap-o kind, just concrete from the place up on St. Martin's hill, but it does the job. Never saw much sense in buying a big monument for a man who's already gone on to his reward."