The Hidden Throne

by Charlie Cottrell

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I replied. “I’ve got the files. Let me in, and let me see Maya.”

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” the person on the other side replied. The vid window snapped shut, and I heard a scrabbling at the locks on the door. Finally, the door swung inward, and a shortish man with greasy, lanky hair and a suit two sizes too big for him stood before me, a gun leveled at my gut.

  “Get yer ass in here, Hazzard,” the man said.

  “Good to see you, too, Kirkpatrick,” I replied. I pulled my computer out of my pocket and pressed a button. “I warned you the last time we saw each other, ugly.” The button sent a signal to the small capsule I’d inserted into Kirkpatrick’s left forearm, cracking open the small vial of Compound 16 nestled there. I hated to kill someone, even someone as slimy as Roger Kirkpatrick, but he was dangerous and very likely to pull the trigger if I gave him half a chance. Any moment now, he’d be convulsing on the floor, dying a terrible, horrible, no-good-very-bad death from melting from the inside out.

  Aaaaany moment now.

  “I didn’t think you’d make it,” he said, turning around and walking back into the apartment. I followed, closing the door behind me and turning off the force field. No use wasting the battery if I didn’t have to.

  “Yeah, well, you did have a lot of guns out there,” I said, pretending I wasn’t flummoxed as I fished my pack of cigarettes out and lit one to mask my confusion. “Care for a smoke?”

  “No, that stuff’ll kill you,” Kirkpatrick said, sitting in the living room on a sofa that looked like it was little more than a couple of planks of wood on cinderblocks with a blanket thrown over.

  “Sure, if your goons don’t do the job first,” I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

  Kirkpatrick laughed. You could call it a guffaw, but that seems too good-natured for a man as vile as he was. “Hazzard, I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said.

  “Yeah, and there’s a reason I knew I hated your guts,” I replied. “Where’s Maya?”

  “Patience, Hazzard, patience,” Kirkpatrick said soothingly.

  “I ran out of that the minute your guys started shooting at me,” I snapped. “Give me the girl, I’ll give you the files, and everyone gets what they want.” I stood for a second, waiting. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why the hell aren’t you dying?”

  “Like I was going to keep that capsule in my body for any longer than I absolutely had to,” Kirkpatrick replied. “I’m not an idiot, Hazzard, and I’ve got access to plenty of top-shelf medical providers. That capsule was out of my arm the same day you put it there.”

  “Of course,” I said, annoyed. “So, are we going to make this trade or what? Or are you waiting for some great compromise that gives everybody exactly what they want, unicorns and sunshine and all?”

  “Oh, I’ll get what I want,” Kirkpatrick said, smiling like a used car salesman. “You may not, if you don’t drop the attitude. And your buddy the Boss sure as hell won’t, regardless. She gets run outta town in a few months, and that’s if I’m feeling generous.”

  “You think the plans to make some new gun are gonna be enough for you to uproot the most powerful criminal organization in the country?” I asked. It was my turn to laugh. “Seriously, you’re a two-bit loser, Kirkpatrick, the scum of the earth. The Boss may be on the wrong side of the law, but at least she’s human.”

  “I’ve got modern technology and weaponry on my side, Hazzard. And I’m up against a dinosaur,” he said, rising from the couch. “Guys like me, see, we’re forward-thinking. With Compound 15, Compound 16, and the mass accelerator, I’ll be unstoppable. I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done. Which, at the moment, means taking the files from you and making sure they’re legit.” He held out a hand.

  “They’re legit, all right,” I replied, taking a datachip out of my pocket and holding it out for him. Kirkpatrick reached out, his eyes gleaming with greed and twisted visions of the world bowing at his feet. “Just wanna make sure you understand one thing,” I said, holding it back from him, “once you have this, I will make it my life’s work to hunt you down. You and Bodewell.”

  “I’m touched, Eddie,” came a voice from behind me. I whirled to see Bodewell enter the room, Maya in front of him. Her hands were restrained behind her back. She didn’t look injured, but she did look defiant.

  “You all right, Miss Janovich?” I asked, my hands clenched tight on the cane. She merely nodded. I looked Bodewell in the eye. There was not a shred of remorse to be found there. “John, nice of you to join us. I was just having a chat with your lord and master.”

  Bodewell bristled a bit. “We’re partners, Kirkpatrick and me,” he said, moving into the room with Maya in front of him still. “You know I don’t bow and scrape for anyone.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, you’re a regular rugged individualist,” I said, trying like hell to affect a calm, cool demeanor. “Tell you what, I’ve got the plans right here. I’ll give them to you, you let me and the girl walk outta here unharmed, and everyone gets what they want.”

  “Oh, Eddie, I’m afraid the time for that has passed,” Bodewell said, locking eyes with me again. “Sure, we gave you until this evening to bring the plans in, but we decided it really wasn’t worth having you as a loose end. So we’re just going to kill you and take the plans anyway.”

  “What about Maya?” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ll keep her around,” Kirkpatrick said behind me, “just in case we need a computer expert. Y’know, in case you ‘forgot’ to decrypt the files, or for future reference. Never know when you can use a good computer expert.”

  “I thought you guys hadn’t been able to get her to cooperate,” I said, resting my left hand on the cane and flicking the ash from my cigarette with the right.

  “Oh, not yet,” Kirkpatrick said, circling around in front of me, “but I still haven’t tried my really persuasive techniques yet.” He grinned in a way that showed his teeth but no actual humor. It was the sort of grin a shark would have, or a politician on the take.

  “Guys, here’s an idea,” I said, taking another drag on my cigarette, “why don’t you just do what I asked, so no one else gets hurt? This is the last time I’m making the offer.”

  Kirkpatrick laughed, and Bodewell just shook his head with a wan grin. “You just don’t get it, Eddie,” Bodewell said. “You’re not in a position to negotiate.”

  I exhaled again, looking at Bodewell. “Who said anything about negotiation?” I slid a panel open on the cane and held down the button it revealed. There was a faint beep and the tension in the room was suddenly cranked to eleven. “I’m wired with enough explosives to wipe out everything on this floor. This is a deadman’s switch, so killing me won’t save your sorry asses.” Kirkpatrick had stopped laughing.

  “Now, do I have your full attention?” I asked.

  II.

  Kirkpatrick and Bodewell looked at one another apprehensively for a moment, then back to me. I stood there calmly, finishing my cigarette. Maya’s eyes had gone wide when I mentioned the explosives, but now she seemed to be retreating back into herself, almost like she was trying to disappear from the room.

  “Okay, Eddie, we’ll play along,” Bodewell said. “Give us the file.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, flicking my cigarette away and digging the datachip back out of my coat pocket. “It’s already decrypted. You can take a look at it, if you want.” I tossed the chip to Kirkpatrick, who managed to catch it. He dug in his own pocket and pulled out a computer interface and inserted the chip. A vid window popped up with schematics and details on the development of the alloy and the handheld mass accelerator.

  “It’s good,” he said, pinching the window closed and pocketing the computer.

  “Excellent,” said Bodewell, who turned his gun on Kirkpatrick and squeezed the trigger.

  The shot echoed painfully in the small room. Maya was cowering and covering her ears, Kirkpatrick was slumping to the floor in a lifeless heap, and I
accidentally took my thumb off the button on my cane.

  Bodewell looked down at Kirkpatrick with revulsion in his eyes. “Disgusting little man,” he said, contempt dripping from every word. He glanced back up at me. “You seem to have forgotten about your little ruse, Eddie,” he said, pointing to the cane.

  “Oh, that,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I slid the panel back over the button. “That was for the flashbang I used earlier. Wasn’t even connected to anything.”

  “I know,” Bodewell said, “I read your tell. A confident grin? That’s a guarantee you’re bluffing.”

  “Maybe, maybe,” I replied, moving to help Maya up off the floor. Bodewell swung his gun over to cover me. I froze. “Now now, Eddie, let’s not make any assumptions about anything that’s happening here. You, my friend, are not quite out of the proverbial woods yet.”

  “Okay, so what the hell is happening here, then?” I asked, not moving. “I thought you and Kirkpatrick were partners.”

  “Oh, only for convenience’s sake,” Bodewell replied. “Really, I was just waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself. I’ve been looking to take over his little confederation since we teamed up, and this was the most opportune time to do so.”

  “You are truly a piece of work, John,” I said, mock-admiringly.

  “I know, I know,” he replied, all faux-humility. “But now, I think the best thing to do is for you to reach into Kirkpatrick’s pocket and take out his computer. I do still need that information if I’m going to rule the city.”

  “What I don’t get,” I said, kneeling down by Kirkpatrick’s body and searching his pockets, “is why you need this information at all. I mean, you already had access to the rail gun.”

  Bodewell sighed. “It’s true, I had it, and I never should’ve given it back to Calthus after I tested it out on Wallace. I knew that as soon as his men tried to use it on us back at the bank. Calthus was as much of a bastard as Kirkpatrick, but he was a lot harder to take down. I had to send you after him. But now, all that stands between me and ruling Arcadia is you. So, Kirkpatrick’s computer, if you’d be so kind.” He stretched out a hand to me, and I put Kirkpatrick’s computer in it. “Thank you, Eddie. The rail gun, too, if you please.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluffed.

  Bodewell was having none of it. “Don’t try to play me for an idiot, Eddie. I know you took the prototype from Calthus. There’s no way you left it in his office or gave it the Boss, and there’s no way you let O’Mally and his crew of incompetents have it, either. You have it. Hand it over, or the girl dies. Simple as that.” He pointed his gun at Maya, his finger on the trigger and his hand steady as a rock.

  “You are a piece of work, Bodewell,” I said, shaking my head and laughing despite myself. “It’s no surprise you’ve risen to the top of this little criminal confederation.”

  “That’s what cream does, Eddie,” Bodewell replied.

  “Yeah, so does scum,” I said. “Unfortunately for you, the damn thing is gone.”

  “Gone?” Bodewell said, confused.

  “Yeah.” I grinned. “What? You didn’t think I was gonna keep something that dangerous, did you? You’ve seen me shoot. I’m terrible. Damn thing was more of a threat to me and mine than to any enemy I might aim at.”

  And that’s when the building started to shake like it was the target for a kaiju attack. Bodewell was thrown off balance for a moment, so I swung my cane at his gun. It caught the barrel, knocking the weapon from his hand and sending it clattering across the room. Bodewell recovered, his face twisted in a rictus of anger and frustration.

  “What the hell is going on?” he snarled, trying to circle around to the gun. I sidestepped, cane held at the ready.

  “That’s phase two,” I replied, smiling grimly.

  “Phase two?” Bodewell repeated, confused.

  └●┐└●┐└●┐

  Phase two was simple: Kirkpatrick’s men were bound to figure out what was going on with the holographic decoys eventually. There was no way they weren’t going to, if so few of their guys got hit. So, after they managed to take out the holographic projectors and the remote guns, they’d probably be more than a little cocksure.

  That’s when we’d hit them with the rockets.

  Vera Stewart, as the Boss of the massive Organization, had access to a lot of high-end war materiel. The sort that blows things up real good. We may not have had access to many of the computerized guns, with their sophisticated targeting software and all the servos necessary to operate the damn things, but we had RPGs. We figured lobbing a couple of ‘em at the base of the building when their guard was down would be nice and distracting, giving an insertion team time to rush the middle and take out some of Kirkpatrick’s men and probably get me out of what we were sure from the beginning was a bad situation.

  We were pretty right about most of that.

  The RPGs hit the building with a muffled ker-thud, a sound that was felt rather than heard up on the 34th floor. I heard Vera’s voice in my ear saying, “Insertion Team, go!” and the sound of some other radio chatter, so apparently they’d broken through the signal jamming. I turned the volume down so I could concentrate on Bodewell.

  He’d given up on the gun and slipped a hand under his jacket. It came back out holding a long knife.

  “Isn’t this getting a little tired?” I groaned as he circled me.

  “It is,” he replied, a devilish grin on his face. “This is one of the knives the guards used on me. It’s made from the alloy, and I can tell you from experience that it’s a damn sharp blade. You might as well give up now.”

  I paused to consider the offer. “No, think I’ll pass,” I said, digging my hand into a coat pocket.

  Bodewell barked out a short, dry laugh, then lunged for me with the knife. I dodged back, almost losing my balance, and pulled my hand out of my pocket holding a small ball-shaped device. Bodewell pressed forward, advancing on me quickly for a man his age. I pressed the edge of the ball and rolled it toward him, diving behind the couch and definitely tearing my wound open. “Get under cover, Maya!” I yelled as I hit the floor.

  Bodewell stopped short upon seeing the ball, attempting to shift directions and escape my little surprise. He didn’t quite make it: the ball beeped loudly once, then exploded in a messy tangle of slick strands. It was a tangle bomb, a non-lethal riot suppression device that, when activated, flings a bunch of sticky tendrils out in a ten-foot radius, then immediately contracts to restrict the targets. It wouldn’t kill Bodewell unless he accidentally angled his knife wrong and stabbed himself someplace vital when the strands constricted. It wouldn’t hold him forever, especially not if he could bring that blade into play, but it gave Maya and me a chance to escape, maybe.

  I scrambled to my feet, clutching my stomach and hoping I wouldn’t bleed out before we made good on that escape chance. Bodewell was cocooned on the floor, struggling to get free of the tight strands. I glanced around and found Maya hidden behind a sagging recliner on the other side of the room. I helped her up and managed to break the zip tie holding her wrists together, then took her by the hand and started for the door. The building shook again as the Phase Two Team hit it with another round of RPGs. “C’mon, we’ve gotta move,” I told her, pushing her ahead of me down the hall. The lights in the hallway flickered as we left the apartment; Vera’s men must’ve finally hit the transformers to this building, knocking out the power. Emergency generators kicked in, bringing a faint, sickly glow to the hallway.

  “Head for the stairs,” I said, wincing as my gut reminded me that I’d been overdoing it. I staggered along, the cane all that kept me from falling to the floor a couple of times. We reached the stairwell, and Maya wrenched open the door and led me down the stairs, letting me lean on her so I didn’t take a headfirst tumble down the next few flights.

  ‘Round about the 23rd floor, my legs started to feel too wobbly to walk, so I had to sit and take a break. I knew i
t was dangerous, what with a building potentially full of people who would do me violence and a man several floors above who would likely be free at any time and making his way after us, but I couldn’t make myself move.

  “You have to keep going,” I said, coughing and clutching my midsection. My shirt was soaked in blood.

  “You don’t get to play hero, sir,” Maya said, dragging me back to my feet and making me lean on her even more. She was surprisingly strong for such a slightly-built person. “Let’s go, one foot in front of the other.”

  We made it down two more flights of stairs before it happened. I don’t know if it was some subtle change in air pressure or some sixth sense detectives get or what, but I felt someone behind me and dragged Maya to the floor a split second before Bodewell’s knife slashed right at neck level. We tumbled down the last few stairs to the next landing, and I felt something go snap in my left leg. I cried out in pain, clutching at the leg.

  “Eddie, this isn’t over,” Bodewell said, advancing slowly down to the landing.

  I cringed. “John, if you’re just gonna talk in clichés all evening, just…just go ahead and kill me. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

  Bodewell raised the knife, poised for the kill. “Goodbye, Eddie,” he said.

  Maya stepped up and swung a small, vicious-looking cosh, catching Bodewell just behind the ear. He went down without a sound, the knife clattering out of his hand.

  “Good…ung…good job,” I wheezed, my vision going red with the pain. “Grab…the knife an’ Kirk…Kirkpatrick’s computer,” I told her, trying to get upright. I dug in my left coat pocket and found what I was looking for: a small first aid kit that contained some painkillers and stimulant. I placed the applicator on my neck and pulled the trigger, injecting several milliliters of both substances straight into my veins. I sighed a bit as the painkillers hit my system, numbing the screaming pain in my head, stomach, and leg to a dull roar in the background that I could ignore for at least a short while. Meanwhile, Maya searched Bodewell, found the computer, and grabbed the knife from the floor.