Night Strike

by Rodney Mountain

Night Strike

  A Short Story Compilation

  Rodney Mountain

  Night Strike

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

  All Rights Reserved

  Compilation Copyright 2004 by Rodney Mountain

  Expanded Edition Copyright 2011 Rodney Mountain

  All Stories Rodney Mountain on the below dates

  Night Strike Copyright 2002

  The Campground Copyright 2000

  Free Fall Copyright 2000

  Kara's Last Day Copyright 2003

  The Highway Copyright 2002

  Stone's Justice Copyright 2002

  The Cocktail Party Copyright 2004

  The Crazygal Copyright 2004

  Searching for Bolantine Copyright 2002

  The Cop, The Whore and Eight Bottles… Copyright 2003

  Madfest Murder Copyright 2002

  Bolantine's Folly Copyright 2002

  They Were Lovers, Weren't They? Copyright 2002

  Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

   

  Immortal Universe Novels

   

  The Healy Murders

  Durell’s Insurrection

  The Accidental Immortal

  Undercover

  The Killer Strikes

  Anoki's Revenge

  The Immortal Progression

  Corporate Immortality

  Not With a Whisper

  The Mullinix: Ascension

  The Mullinix: Redemption

  The Mullinix: Resolution

   

  Other Works

   

  The Black Fossil

  Dedication

  This is to all of the people who have been reading my stuff for the years that I've been writing it. Without you none of this would have been possible.

  Table of contents

  1. Night Strike

  2. The Campground

  3. Free Fall

  4. Kara's Last Day

  5. The Highway

  6. Stone's Justice

  7. The Cocktail Party

  8. The Crazygal

  9. Searching for Bolantine

  10. The Cop, The Whore and Eight Bottles of Jack Daniels

  11. Madfest Murder

  12. Bolantine's Folly

  13. They Were Lovers, Weren't They?

  Foreword

  This compilation was originally done during my first round of publishing back in 2004. I'd taken a number of the stories I'd written and simply slapped them together into a quick compilation, figuring that it would look good alongside the full novels I'd written, I think it was a whole four or five at that time.

  I republish this now more as a curiosity than anything else. Some of the stories have held up, some of them simply haven't, but all of them show the process as I learned my craft better.

  A few of them also show off the first person style I originally used for The Healy Murders, The Accidental Immortal and the first third of Undercover. If you've read any of those you know that I took the time to completely rewrite them in a third person perspective that works much better for the stories.

  It was during Undercover that I figured out that I'd written myself into a corner and that my style wasn't working. So I took the time to figure out how to work the third person narrative and finally got annoyed enough with the first two books that I completely rewrote them.

  The first version of Immortal is gone forever (Or So I thought until I happened across a copy while putting this version together), but a bit of that style remains in the very odd Mason Stone short Free Fall that is included here. Some of the other stories are related to the larger novels and pieces of them may have ended up in other stories as well.

  This edition of this compilation has been freshly edited to at least polish the grammar and typographical errors that were rife in the 2004 version, but other than that these stories are the same flawed creations that I wrote back in the day.

  I actually took time to write notes for these stories back then and those are included here for the novelty. I have also added new bits that show my perspective after all the years. Those notes will be italicized at the bottom of the note page introducing the short for the stories that were in the original version.

  If you are one of the four people who read the 2004 version of this compilation then you're in luck, there are a few more stories here. The quality varies, but hopefully you'll find enough entertainment to qualify for the price of admission.

  -Rodney Mountain 7/30/2011

  Night Strike

  This story was the result of a long couple of nights and some indecision of what to do between books. I had come up with the concept a while earlier, but it had never fleshed out to the point of a full novel. The characters were good and I did like this short story.

  The character of Mark Copeland should be familiar to anyone who has read the completed version of Durell's Insurrection, as he was integrated into that storyline at some point in his life after the events in this story. This, despite the fact that some things in this story would be anachronisms in the time period Durell took place in.

  The biggest comment I received on this one was "Why didn't you just make it a Mason/Karen/Jim short?" The short answer was that I was burned out on them after writing Foundation 51 (now known as Corporate Immortality). That's probably why I never wrote another one of these shorts. Mason and company are better at this.

 

  Chapter 1

  Mark Copeland walked into the room, his head pounding from the generous helping of alcohol he had had the night before. He maneuvered his large six foot two inch frame onto the overstuffed couch that Claire had picked up at goodwill earlier that year. It was the single piece of furniture in the apartment that Mark could actually sit in comfortably.

  "Did you get the plate of the truck that hit you?" Claire asked him, "You look like hell, tiger."

  Claire Ryan plunked herself down in a smaller chair across from where Mark was sitting. She was only an inch shorter than her best friend was, but her frame was quite a bit smaller. She brushed her brown hair back out of the way and looked at Mark as he rubbed his temples.

  "I should have quit drinking," Mark grumbled.

  "When?" Claire asked him.

  "About 9:30 last night, I’d judge," Tracy grinned, plunking herself down next to Mark, "Did you actually finish that bottle of vodka, Mark?"

  Mark glared at Tracy Stillwell, Claire’s longtime roommate. Tracy was nearly dwarfed sitting next to him, her five foot six inch body taking less than half the amount of space his did. She giggled at him and gave him a quick hug to make it all better.

  "You really need to go easier on the sauce," Claire admonished Mark, "You really do look like hell."

  Claire and Mark had had an on again, off again affair going for several years. They cared for each other deeply but they were never able to settle on much. The nature of their line of work did not do much to make their lives anymore stable. They were always on the razor’s edge of the law, knowing that they could be brought down at any time.

  "I’ll be ok, Claire," Mark said, "Do we have a target in mind for today?"

  "Yeah," Claire nodded, "I scoped them out while you and Trace were drinking yourselves silly."

  "Hey," Tracy replied, defending herself, "We invited you to come along too. You didn’t want to go though."

  "It’s all right," Claire smiled, "I think we hit the mother lode. I’ve got the digital stills in the computer."

  Tracy followed Claire over to the c
omputer, but Mark was not able to get that interested in anything yet. Tracy picked up the remote from Claire’s desk and turned on the large screen television, which she then immediately turned to the computer input so Mark could watch what they did.

  "I took these out on the strip last night," Claire said, "I got myself dressed up all nice and sexy and took a walk."

  "Mmmm," Tracy grinned, "You should have come with us. You wasted sexy on a walk on the strip?"

  "While I was out there," Claire said, smirking at Tracy, "I happened across some old friends of ours. Remember these two?"

  A digital photo appeared on the screen of two shady looking characters. The same photo appeared on the large television screen in front of where Mark Copeland was sitting. Mark squinted at the photograph trying to bring a recollection through his muddled brain as to who the people were.

  "I recognize them," Tracy said after studying the picture on the monitor for a bit, "But I’m lousy with names."

  "They were soldiers for an outfit we hit last year," Mark said, "The Cardozo brothers, if I remember correctly. I thought those two idiots were run out of town months ago."

  "They’re back," Claire said and went on to the next picture, "And they’re well funded. I saw them making the rounds from a Cadillac convertible. I’d say they’re pulling in at least ten grand a night. Maybe more."

  "That could keep us going for a few months," Tracy said, "My car payment is due next week too."

  "What are they selling?" Mark asked her.

  "Crack and Heroin," Claire said, "I bought a bag of the H just to see what the quality was."

  "Please tell me you dumped it before you came home," Mark said.

  "Traded it to a junkie for information," Claire smiled, "Seems they’re spreading the cash out well. Always have a bankroll on them. They are always there between eight and midnight as well."

  Mark was finally interested enough to sit up a little and take a better look at the photographs. Claire smiled at him and flipped to the next picture. This one showed two large hulking men that had large bulges under their jackets. Mark figured that they were carrying probably Mac 10 submachine pistols.

  "They are open," Mark said, "But it’s going to be a wet one. Those two goons are going to have to be taken down. We try a bloodless robbery it’s not going to be pretty."

  "I doubt it’ll be much of a loss," Tracy said, "I recognize one of them. He has a rap sheet as long as my arm."

  "Definitely a crew that the street can do without," Claire agreed, "While I was out there I witnessed no less than a dozen assaults."

  "Are they always out in the open?" Mark asked her.

  "They retreat to this alley when they want to get ready," Claire said as she put the shots up, "I didn’t dare to photograph them there, but I got a few shots of the alley itself later."

  Mark, always the tactician of the group, looked over the shots carefully. The alcoholic induced fog had lifted from his mind and a plan was beginning to form. He got up, stifling a groan as he did so, and took control of the keyboard away from Claire. She smiled and let him have the chair, moving behind him and rubbing his temples.

  Mark flipped through the photographs and studied them as he figured out the best place to hit them. He knew it was possible for the three of them to do it, but it would have to be a hit and get. It was also going to be a rather bloody one, meaning they would have to lay low for a while after it.

  "This one is going to irk the cops," Mark said, "I don’t see that we can do it without killing at least four people."

  "Do we have the resources for the job?" Tracy asked them, "This one sounds hairy."

  "We’ll need silenced pistols," Mark said, "No car, too easy to trace. We’d have to steal one for it to be of any use."

  "Too dangerous," Claire agreed, "We’ll have to go in on foot and melt away afterwards."

  "It’s too dangerous to go in cold," Tracy observed, "Maybe two of us should go in and take down the creeps and the other creates a street diversion?"

  "What type of diversion?" Claire wondered.

  "Something simple," Mark said, "Cheap would be nice too. We’re going to lose the weapons we use on them. Too hot to hold."

  "It’s the beginning of July," Tracy said, "Fireworks should be easy to get."

  "A couple sets of firecrackers should do pretty well," Mark agreed, "How much do we have left in operating cash, Claire?"

  "Two hundred," Claire said, "That last bad job didn’t help much. Cost us two guns as well."

  "We still have the two silenced 9mm pistols," Tracy said, "Should be fine for head shots."

  "You want to do the diversions, Claire?" Mark asked her.

  "Sure," she nodded, "Tracy is better on the draw anyway."

  "Besides," Tracy said, "These are drug dealers. I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger on them."

  "I want clean kills," Mark reminded her, "I know you hate drug dealers, but if you toy with them it’ll get us caught."

  "You got it," Tracy nodded, smiling, "I guess we should go shopping for fireworks."

  "You can go ahead," Mark said, "I think I’m going to rest a bit. I want my head clear if we hit tonight."

  "I’m going to stay with him," Claire said, "You mind doing this alone?"

  "Not a problem," Tracy chuckled, "Just make sure you help him get his head straight for tonight, ok?"

  "I think we can arrange that," Claire smiled, "Don’t you, Mark?"

  "I think it’s a possibility," Mark chuckled, seeing the look in Claire’s eyes.

  "Try to finish up before I get back, all right?" Tracy smiled, "I really don’t want to walk in on you two again."

  "We’ll try to be more considerate of your delicate morals," Claire said dryly, knowing that Tracy was no more innocent than she, "Enjoy your shopping trip."

  "Always," Tracy said as she took half of the remaining cash, "Don’t get too tired now."

  "Remember," Mark said with a chuckle, "We’re looking for loud, not dangerous."

  "Right," Tracy nodded as she went over and hugged both of them, "I’ll be a good girl."

  "I won’t," Claire said as Tracy slipped out the door.

  "You won’t, huh?" Mark asked her as he leaned back on the couch, "Just what do you have in mind?"

  "Hmmm," Claire grinned as she reclined in his arms, "You know how I get before a job…"

  "Well," Mark said as he pulled her close and nibbled on her ear softly, "I can think of worse ways to cure a headache…"

  Chapter 2

  Claire Ryan smiled dreamily as she lay back against Mark Copeland’s chest. Her brown hair spread out over him, tickling his nose. Mark brushed it away from his nose and kissed her softly. She smiled up at him and slid up further for a deeper kiss.

  "Did that help your headache?" She asked him, a mischievous grin forming on her face.

  "Yeah," Mark chuckled, "I think it did. It made me forget how much it hurt at any rate."

  She rested her head down on him and held on to him. The position was mostly comfortable, though her feet were hanging over the edge of the bed. She was nervous, just like she always got before a job. The sex was just one of her ways of dealing with the tension.

  "I’m worried about this one, Mark," Claire told him, "Tracy is too excited about it."

  "She loves the drug dealer jobs," Mark shrugged, "She’d kill every one of them if she could."

  "She’s been this way since Charlie died," Claire said, "She never really got over it."

  "We all have our reasons for doing this," Mark reminded her, "Hers is Charlie and mine is my sister. I’m sure you have your reasons as well."

  "My mother was an addict," Claire said, remembering watching her mother shoot heroin as a child, "She overdosed when I was fifteen."

  "Exactly," Mark said, "I’m sure you’re not going to shed any tears at these four’s demise."

  "She just looks like she takes pleasure in it," Claire said, "That’s what worries me. We’re
supposed to be doing a public service and making a little money, not becoming serial killers."

  "At least we’re choosing a deserving class of victim," Mark smiled, "Don’t tell me you’re getting second thoughts about this?"

  "Not about the thefts," Claire said, "Not sure I like the bloodlust."

  "Yeah," Mark nodded, "I don’t know what else to do though. If we leave them alive they’re just going to continue terrorizing people."

  "I’m the one who scoped it," Claire grinned, "I’ve got no problem with taking them down. Just watch Tracy on this one, ok? Make sure she acts professionally."

  "Tracy is a pro," Mark said, "But if you’re worried, we can put her on the firework detail and you can frontline with me."

  "No need," Claire said as she crawled up and kissed Mark some more, "She won’t hesitate on the trigger. I might in my current mood. Besides, I already did the hard part on this one."

  "True," Mark grinned, "It’ll go fine though."

  "Let’s hope so," Claire said, "We don’t need a mess right now."

  "We should probably get dressed before Tracy gets back," Mark told her, "No need to get her making anymore jokes."

  "Right," Claire said, "No need to get her worked up anymore than she already is."

  Chapter 3

  They were mostly dressed by the time Tracy walked into the door carrying a large bag full of fireworks and another one with Chinese takeout. She set the bags down on the kitchen table and chuckled as she looked at the dressing lovers. She quietly pulled out her box of Lo Mein and started eating with chopsticks.

  "Did you have fun shopping?" Mark asked her as he went over to start poking in the bags of explosives, "And did you leave any petty cash left?"

  "Still have a hundred in the box," Tracy said, "Figured we should get some food in us before we left. I knew damn well neither one of you would be cooking."

  "We cooked plenty," Claire smiled, "Just not on the stove."

  "Right," Tracy chuckled nervously, "Anyway, I got food for you too."

  Claire went for her General Tso’s chicken and sat down with Tracy. Mark looked at the bag full of chain explosives and firecrackers. He pulled out a few and looked at them, especially the M80 firecrackers. He smiled at the assortment, knowing that Tracy had gone overboard, but knowing that it was well intended.

  "Eat something, Mark," Claire said, "You’ll need the energy."

  "Right," Mark nodded and sat down, pulling open his carton of sesame beef, "You’re the best, Trace. You remembered what I like."