Lover

by Valerie J. Long

  The van stopped in front of the carry-out, the sliding doors sprang open—before I could interfere, they already had shot two missiles into the diner. Only then, they exited the car, three rifles and a flame thrower leveled. This seemed to be the standard equipment.

  I harrumphed directly behind them and sharply addressed them in Japanese. “You have made a severe mistake.”

  Four surprised faces turned toward me, the barrels following with little delay—another severe mistake.

  First, I cut the flame-thrower’s fuel line. In rapid succession, I kicked the rifle barrels up too, then cut the respective shooting finger with a sharp claw.

  The flame-thrower carrier soon noticed that his weapon no longer worked and that the fuel from his line shot to the ground. Hectically, he extinguished his pilot flame. Only then did he try to use a knife against me. I quickly kicked it from his hands.

  Now the three riflemen with their bleeding finger stumps tried to attack me in close combat. They soon left it, though, when I parried their attacks with sharp claw strikes and thereby dissevered their underarm tendons and muscles.

  Once again, the flame-thrower man tried a clumsy attack—my clawed index finger in his eye stopped him, then I struck his throat—without claws.

  “Another one?” I hissed. “Come. I’m pissed off!”

  No. The bloke with the put-out eye screamed bloody murder, and the three others didn’t dare to move anymore.

  “No more missiles. Tell that to your Grand Master.”

  Part Nine

  Preparation

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Gomez remained conspicuously silent while we were continuing our drive northwestward. I steered mostly with my knee while devouring my cold meal. Was it this?

  “I’ve got the car under control,��� I finally said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Why are you so silent?”

  “Out of caution.”

  “Caution about what?”

  “About you. When we drove off, you appeared tense like a hyper-nervous rattlesnake.”

  “Oh. That bad?”

  “Like just before an explosion.”

  “Oh.” I tried to remember. “I was totally pissed off. They simply fired their missiles. If the host and his cook had still been inside…”

  “You had warned them.”

  “Yes. Then I took out the shooters before they could cause more mayhem with their flame thrower.”

  “Flame thrower? My goodness, they meant business.”

  “Yes. Rough times. In any case, they still didn’t get when it was time to give up. I had to mutilate them first—with one of them I put one eye out.”

  My cheek suddenly felt wet.

  “Jo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Would I?

  “Gomez, I don’t want to be like that. I’m horrified. I can’t roam the country and use my skills to cause people maximum pain!”

  “No, Jo. That’s not what you’re doing.”

  “I’ve just done it!”

  “Hush, Jo. You were angry. You hated them, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hate isn’t good. But hate is human. Ay, if my opponent is an asshole, then I don’t care whether I hate him. Old Gomez always has one bullet left for such guys.”

  “Did you ever shoot someone down?”

  “No. Only injured one.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “How did you feel?”

  “Great. He was a scumbag, he’d beaten my girlfriend. He had a gun, too. I was quicker. Bang, there he was lying and screaming. Great.”

  “And later?”

  “I got drunk. Couldn’t bear the memory of his pain-stricken face, not to mention all the blood. Yuck.” He shook his head. “Had a few nightmares. Someday I got over it. Always told myself, he’d been an asshole, he asked for it.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Well, he got stitched together, and then he got lost. Later, he robbed a bank, shot down two hostages, and then the cops shot him, as I heard. Once an asshole, always an asshole, I told myself. And if I had aimed better, the two hostages would still be alive.” He snapped his fingers. “You know, Jo, you really needn’t be worried about guys who just so shoot a missile into a house, regardless who’s inside.”

  “I don’t. I’m worried about myself.”

  From the depths of the meal bag, he fetched a napkin and handed it to me. “Jo, that’s really cute that you’re crying. Didn’t think you had it in you, as cool as you otherwise are.” He cheekily poked my breast. “Somewhere inside there, under these really pretty things, there’s a soft heart, you know? No idea what you’ve already experienced, but you’ve learned to hide that darn well. Most of the time.”

  Damn, now there came even more tears!

  Switch off.

  —Please confirm. The suppression of strong emotions can be harmful.—

  Aw crap. Let it run.

  “It will soon get better, Jo.”

  “First it will get worse. We’ve only just started the war against the Cartel. This won’t be the last time I have to hurt someone.”

  “No, Jo. But how often will you do it out of hate? Inconsiderately, out of control?”

  “There you’re right again.”

  “See? Can learn something from old Gomez.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  “Do you think we can allow ourselves another warm meal?” I pointed at the truck stop we were approaching.

  “Perhaps, if you drop your qualms regarding other guests. I’m not interested in another such poison dose.”

  “You mean I shall be less considerate?”

  “Exactly. I don’t know why the poison doesn’t work on you, but I’d certainly prefer a big shoot-out.”

  “The poison…” Yes, I should better explain that. “There’s been an attempt to poison me before. I’ve received a special treatment. Perhaps that’s still working.”

  “Nice for you. Anyway, before they try again, let’s please fight.”

  “In real cool Velvet style?”

  “Exactly. Like the woman who’s mixing up a bunch of armed cultists or kindly persuades a ZONE gang to find a different target.”

  “Ah okay. Then I’ve got another idea.”

  “Why do I so much like your grin right now?”

  Upon entering the diner, I easily approached the older man at the cashier. I could tell from the tip of his nose that he’d recognized me as potential target. “Hi, boss.”

  “Yes?”

  “Boss, my partner and I will have a cozy warm meal. The last two occasions we tried that, our host felt obliged to report our presence. The first time, we were peaceful to save guests and staff from trouble. The second time, the venue was blown up. I won’t have such anymore, I won’t tolerate it a third time, and I won’t care about guests and staff. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes. Get out.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Get out.” He pointed at a sign behind him, saying We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and explained, “You’re not welcome here. Get lost.”

  With a quick move, I grabbed him by his throat, pulled him across the counter, and held him up with one hand. “I didn’t understand you entirely. Would you please repeat?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw one of his employees fetching a shotgun from under the counter. I threw the old man down, jumped at the gun-bearer, and tore the weapon out of his hands. Then I poked the barrel under his chin. “I’m hungry. When I’m hungry, I’m in a very, very bad mood. I don’t like the Cartel, and I don’t like Cartel spies. Spies who address me harshly and impolitely or even point a gun at me are what I like least, especially when I’m in a bad mood.”

  The old man was just getting up. I focused on him. “You’ve got a choice. You can have me as guest or as an unwelcome visitor.”

  Two stout truckers seemed to have
collected all their bravery, after having been reassured by several colleagues with some nods. They rose and approached me. Gomez indicated reaching for his gun, but I lightly shook my head.

  “Hey, gal, leave our host alone.”

  “Okay.” I lowered the barrel toward the floor, whereupon my victim visibly relaxed. I withstood the speaker’s grim glare, though. “I only want what every guest wants—to eat.”

  “You’ve heard that he doesn’t want to serve you.“

  “Yes, and I can read signs. I don’t care. Roadhouses are for travelers’ rest, I’m a resting traveler, and I’m hungry.”

  “He’s got the right to decide—”

  “To hell with his right. He was about to sell me out to the Cartel. So he’s serving the Cartel. For the Cartel, only power counts. I’ve got the power, so he’ll serve me. As easy as that.”

  “With the gun in your hand, you feel strong, do you?”

  “I don’t want anyone else getting injured by its use. I don’t need artillery.” Then I tossed the gun to Gomez.

  The two truckers looked at each other.

  “What’s your plan? Two big boys beat up a hungry little girl? Heroic.” I stepped close to one of them. “It won’t get that far. If one of you touches me, I’ll tear his balls off.”

  “Who do you fucking think you are?”

  “Velvet,” Gomez chimed in from the side. “She’s Velvet, and she’ll take you apart before you can say knife.”

  “The Velvet?” the trucker before me echoed. A murmur rolled across the room.

  “That’s a different matter,” the second one said and approached the old man. “You know what, boss? If she’s not served here, then I won’t stop here ever again.”

  Affirmative calls from the audience sounded.

  “This will make the round,” my trucker promised. “Tomorrow latest, you won’t have any guests left.”

  “Okay,” the old man gave in. “What do you want?”

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  “This is becoming spooky,” I admitted to Gomez. “Where do these people learn about me?”

  “With the truckers, it goes around via radio, and shop owners have their own jungle drums. Velvet’s the hottest topic.”

  “Crap. So being incognito’s gone to hell.”

  “Well, the people don’t bother with a detailed description. Short, sexy, black-haired, mega-dangerous. I’ve heard it before in talks at the counter. You know, I’m not making myself a target by saying I know her, I’ve met her, but I’m listening.”

  “Crap,” I repeated. “Why all that fuss?”

  “I have no idea of such things, but I’d say the situation’s bad, so the people want a hero—a heroine.”

  “A heroine? I? I’ve said it before, that’s not for me.”

  “Sure you. Who else?”

  “Heroes must be tall and blond.”

  “Not always. Heard of Zoe Lionheart? The Dragon queen?”

  “I’ve met her.”

  “Kiss my ass. Really? Well, you know then she’s not blonde.”

  “But tall.”

  “And her partner? Angry April? She wasn’t taller than you.”

  “But blonde.”

  “Well then, dye your hair. Then it will match.”

  I insinuated a strike. He only grinned.

  “Those footsteps are way too large for me.”

  “Which doesn’t prevent you from taking up a worldwide-acting crime organization. No, if you count in those Japanese, actually two.”

  There, he was right. “I tried to evade them. They won’t leave me alone.”

  “There they’ve made a big mistake. And about those footsteps—I don’t know anybody who’s achieved as much as you. So, if there’s anyone fitting in, it’s you.”

  I sighed. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks for adding that to my burden. I already have enough trouble, now I also must worry about the hero role. Actually, I don’t need that at all.”

  “Don’t worry about it, it comes automatically.”

  “Crap.”

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  The place was well chosen—except for the gigantic saguaro cacti, nobody could see or hear us. In exchange, it was quite warm in the evening sun, but in my airy short dress, that didn’t matter to me.

  “Hello, Jo. All okay?”

  “Hello, Alan.” He welcomed me with a hearty caress and handed me over to his partner. “Hello, Fiona.”

  Both also welcomed Gomez.

  “Well, Jo, you’re looking good as ever. Had a few days’ rest?”

  “Not exactly. Meanwhile, the Cartel’s hunting me systematically and with enormous efforts, a dragnet operation, so to say.”

  “But you’ve escaped them.”

  “Sadly, not. They got Gomez and me and took us in. I met a very old friend again, and Jana now knows that I’m Jo Meier.”

  “Oh. But—”

  “She still doesn’t know how I did it.”

  “And how did you do it?”

  “I died.” With a wink, I suggested that I wouldn’t tell more about it. “We escaped, and I believe that I’ve quite much frightened Jana. I hope that will cause her to make mistakes.”

  “That explains a lot,” Fiona chimed in. “During the last days, the Cartel’s dropped their masks. This illusion of normality, that it’s just about a government change, is crumbling. If they go on like this, soon everyone will understand that we’re in fact ruled by a crime syndicate.”

  “We didn’t notice that,” Gomez explained. “Probably because we’ve kept a low profile. School girl and old uncle, you know?” He winked. “In this summer dress, Jo looks truly tasty.”

  Which he had intensely taken advantage of, at any given opportunity. Nice!

  “Well,” Fiona said. “They’re doing random vehicle and person checks, watching railway stations and airports, visiting rest stops and bars, where they sometimes openly collect protection fees, and the police either looks away or even helps them. Young women had better not go out alone, as the deployed men aren’t restraining themselves, at least in the cities.”

  “Not good,” I said.

  “No—on the other hand, this helps us in some way, as there’s an attitude of resistance developing. No American likes the thought that his own daughter or spouse is free game for police and gangsters, and most of them can handle a rifle. What they lack is organization, so the Cartel has a walk-over.”

  “What they also lack is a role model,” Alan added. “The people aren’t stupid—they can guess that the situation’s current worsening is due to existing resistance, due to someone having taken up the fight. But they don’t see the way yet.”

  “Velvet,” Gomez added.

  “Crap, no!” I protested. “I don’t want that.”

  “Jo…” Gomez began.

  “No, Gomez. I’ve said it before—I’m helping against the Cartel for purely egoistical reasons. Because I want to have my peace one day, because I want to have the chance of sleeping in a real bed or taking a decent warm meal without having a Cartel killer standing behind me. For that—and for you, my friends—I’m risking my ass now and then.”

  “Your pretty ass.”

  “Thanks, Gomez. The best of you is your big cock.”

  “Ouch.”

  “But that’s all, please. I have no ambitions to become leader anywhere, and even less a figurehead.”

  “A pity,” Alan said. “As holy Johanna, you’d have crowds of followers.”

  “I’m not holy. I’m not even a virgin, just the opposite. I’m a thief.”

  “Robin Hood was one, too.”

  “Don’t bring that up now, Alan. We’ve talked about it. The answer remains No.”

  “Then let’s talk about the next mission now.” Alan looked warily around, but we were still alone.

  I briefly mused whether I could look like a cactus with my nanos, but I quickly discarded that notion.

  He went on, “
Our men need suits from the Frostdragon production lines. Otherwise, we’re limited to pinpricks and can’t cause an effect. First of all, we must prove being able to stand a serious battle to the loyal parts of Army and Air Force, and that won’t work without armor suits.”

  “You want to start a mission in Australia?” I asked.

  “No. There are hints of the Cartel implementing a new production line in our country, possibly somewhere on the west coast. If we could get into the Frostdragon headquarters and find a hint on the location there, we could help ourselves right here.”

  “We’ve talked about it. The headquarter needs time, and any incident would warn them. I can try, but I’d have to pick the right date.” I thought about it. There was something else.

  —“Next week I’m in Palmdale, sweetie.”—

  Oh. Thanks.

  “Somewhere on the west coast, you said? What about Palmdale?”

  “Palmdale? Why?”

  “Because the Australian suit production lead wanted to meet Jana there not long ago.”

  “Oh. Where—aw, no matter.” Alan shrugged. “That matches. Plant 42.”

  “Should I know that?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Skunk Works? That was before the Dragons’ discovery. Back then, they’d developed secret projects for the Air Force in Palmdale. So this area in southern California is a good place to start a secret armor suit production.”

  “Or fighters with Dragon technology?”

  “For example—but they’ll hardly manage that.”

  “Why?”

  “This production line could be sabotaged by the Australians before the Cartel took over. I’ve got that from an Air Force source. The good thing about it is that the Cartel has no more access to it. The bad is that we won’t have any backup in case the Jellies return.”

  But yes, the backup is standing before you. I have all the data in my mind. But I didn’t voice this thought, as Alan had no need to know.

  “So Palmdale it is.”

  “That’s not verified.”