Hunter

by Sharon Partington

  The manager looked up. “Nothing important, just a catwalk used by our technical people to hang the lights. There’s also a maintenance door which leads to the roof.”

  To the roof, huh?

  That catwalk would give me an unobstructed view of the stage, and my target. It would also provide me with an escape route.

  I’d just found the perfect vantage point from which to kill Vance Delaren.

  The countdown had started.

  Another week and it would be done.

  ◆◆◆

  Each hit comes with its own unique set of challenges, and the last few days are always the longest as I fine tune my preparations and try not to dwell on any of the hundred things that can go wrong.

  I sat on the floor of my hotel room, surrounded by the snapshots I’d taken of Delaren during my reconnaissance. The people loved him. They’d turned out in droves to vote for him, despite the threats and riots that had punctuated his campaign. They believed he could save them.

  Hell, he believed he could save them.

  I worked my way through the images. Delaren shaking hands with workers in the People’s Park. Visiting schools and hospitals in the Iron District.

  Offering hope. The promise of justice.

  His words haunted me, his eyes staring from every picture.

  We are the masters of our own destiny. For too many years we have allowed greedy, corrupt men to deprive us of the future we deserve. We are strong enough to take back our streets, our cities, our system—our lives. I can show you the doorway that leads to your freedom, but you must find the courage within yourselves to follow me into the better life that lies beyond it. It will not be easy. It will not be painless. But when the battle is over, we will know that we have survived to create our own place.

  I saw, again, the fragile hope kindled in the eyes of the people gathered to hear him speak. It was infectious, that hope. That desire for a better future. I thought of the crystal dealers and flesh traders, flaunting their wares in broad daylight on the streets of Dasrajhi—selling sex and dream crystals even to members of the civilian security patrol.

  I saw the children hiding like frightened rats in the shadows. Trying to stay out of reach of the pimps and perverts who haunted the Iron District after the sun went down.

  Jasser and his Guild controlled a lot of things, but they couldn’t control the hope Delaren offered. The Rigian System could use more men like Vance Delaren.

  Too bad he was already dead.

  I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, tossing the photos to one side. I’d learned over the years not to form any kind of emotional connection with those I’d been hired to kill. They weren’t people. They were targets. Obstacles to be eliminated.

  Still, somehow, over the past few weeks, Vance Delaren had become much more to me than just another mark.

  He’d become real. He’d become a man.

  And that was a very dangerous thing.

  ◆◆◆

  I stood in the dark, cursing my own stupidity. What the hell was I doing? Never had I let a mark get to me the way this one had—kill him and get the hell out, that’s what they paid me to do. Pull the damn trigger and disappear. How hard was that?

  I’d done it a thousand times, taken the money and run. I could do it again.

  I would do it again.

  But something about Vance Delaren struck a chord in me I couldn’t escape or ignore. It wasn’t enough, anymore, just to kill him. It had somehow become essential for me to know if he was for real or if it was all bullshit.

  Which now had me hiding in the shadows of his study like a third rate B and E artist. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  The door opened and closed, and a shadow moved to the desk. A hand reached for the lamp.

  “Leave it off,” I said.

  The hand froze then slowly withdrew.

  “How did you get in here?” asked Delaren’s voice.

  No fear. I smiled at that.

  “You know, I could never get this close to you on the street. Your guards have grown too lax. Playing dice by the front gate instead of doing what you pay them to do.”

  Leather squeaked softly as he sat. “Is that why you’re here? To comment on my security?”

  I chuckled. “What security?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You’ve managed to piss off some very dangerous people. Did you really think they’d just let you waltz in and disrupt the way they’ve done business for years?”

  “I will bring justice to the Rigian system. Dorbrin Jasser and his Guild can’t stop me.”

  “Sure they can. Why do you think I’m here?”

  Another silence. “And how much is my life worth?”

  “Why? Do you plan on making me a better offer?”

  “If I did, would you take it?”

  “That depends. Would you be paying me to spare your life? Or to take Jasser’s instead?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m not the only hired killer in the galaxy. If I don’t honor my contract, Jasser will find somebody who will. And you’re too honest a man to seriously consider the alternative. You’d never allow yourself to win that way. Would you?”

  He was silent for a moment. “No. I suppose not. You do know that change will come whether I live to see it or not.”

  “You think so?” I almost succeeded in keeping the amusement from my voice.

  “It’s already begun. Even now, the Iron District rumbles with revolt and the corridors in the Chamber of Laws echo with cries for reform. It’s only a matter of time before the Rigian people rise up to take back what’s theirs. With me or without, change will come.”

  He believed it. I remembered the passionate speeches, heard the conviction in his voice. My curiosity about that passion and conviction had brought me here, contrary to my good sense and better judgment. I didn’t know whether to laugh at him or smack some sense into him.

  “Will you kill me now?” he asked.

  And there it was. A hint of fear.

  I considered the question. What difference did it make whether I killed him now or later?

  Do the job. Take the money.

  A twinge of reservation shot through me. He’d gotten to me, the naive bastard. All that blather about courage and whatever.

  Fuck.

  “Soon, Delaren. But not tonight.”

  My survival instinct kicked in, prodding me to move. I’d made small talk in the dark long enough; any longer and I’d have to shoot my way out.

  I slipped out the terrace door, creeping through the shadows alongside the house. The compound lights came on as I scaled the wall, shouted curses and the wail of the alarm erupting behind me.

  I was nuts, that had to be it. Seriously fucking crazy.

  As I drove back to my hotel, I told myself that another day or two didn’t make that much difference.

  He was still just as dead.

  ◆◆◆

  On the morning of the inauguration I checked out of the hotel and drove to the private landing field west of the city where I’d left my star jumper. I stowed my bag, taking only the smaller backpack containing my laser rifle. I arranged for the ship’s fuel cells to be recharged then drove to the theater, parking on a side street a couple of blocks east.

  It was just after noon and there were a lot of people out enjoying the precious green space in the middle of the Rigian capital. I chose a spot on a shaded bench next to the topiary garden and watched Delaren’s security people and Rigian military police undertake their preparations for the big event. I didn’t see any of the tan uniforms belonging to the civilian security patrol and my estimation of Delaren’s security detail went up a fraction—apparently they didn’t trust the local constabulary to keep him safe. Considering most of them were in Dorbrin Jasser’s pocket, I couldn’t blame them.

  The theater manager hovered in the background, moving from one vehicle to another, generally getting in the way. Three mobile weapon detectors were wheel
ed off the back of a van and security techs set them up inside the main doors. The gala event might be ’Black Tie’, but Delaren’s handler’s weren’t taking any chances—the incoming suits and gowns would be scanned for unwelcome accessories.

  Once the security preparations were well under way I left the bench and headed towards the rear of the theater. Delaren’s guests would be arriving soon and I wanted to be inside and in place before things got underway.

  The dressing rooms at the rear of the building offered me the best chance of getting in undetected. Situated in the basement beneath the stage, the windows were low to the ground and just big enough for a man to crawl through. I’d made careful note of them during my tour. I wouldn’t have to worry about the main alarm—with all of the people going in and out, the Rigians would have it turned off until they’d finished their preparations.

  I jimmied the lock on the window and climbed through, dropping silently to the floor. Voices and footsteps drifted from the stage overhead, and I moved into a curtained changing area, pulling the floor-length drape closed before sitting on the floor to wait. The sounds from above gradually diminished, but I waited another hour just to be safe. Fading light told me the sun was going down. It was time for me to make my way to that catwalk above the stage.

  I left the changing area and peered into the corridor. A sentry in the body armor of the Rigian military police approached from the direction of the stairs.

  Shit!

  I closed the door quickly and ducked back into the changing area. Maybe I’d buy a break and the sentry would walk on past.

  The door opened.

  Or maybe not.

  The MP paused to survey the room. He noticed the partially open window and came further in to examine it.

  I fired through a break in the curtain, taking aim at the seam connecting his helmet to his chest plate. He fell onto his face and lay still. I dragged his body into the changing area, pulling the curtain closed. We were more or less the same size and, dressed in his armor, I’d be able to move around a little easier. I made sure he was dead then pulled the armor on, snapped the helmet’s visor down, and left the dressing rooms, moving quickly along a concrete walled corridor decorated with posters of musicians and performers I’d never heard of and didn’t care about. A door at the end led to a short flight of stairs and the backstage area.

  The chandeliers in the main auditorium were dark, and the feeble house lights didn’t reach as far as the stage. The three sets of auditorium doors stood open. Voices crackled in my helmet, but none of them appeared to speaking to me.

  I made my way through the maze of flats and risers to the backstage ladder and climbed up to the catwalk. The glare of the lights would make me invisible from below, and I’d have an unobstructed view of the podium. I pulled off the helmet then unzipped my backpack and snapped my rifle together before settling down to wait.

  ◆◆◆

  The laser rifle rested against my shoulder as I steadied it on the railing.

  It was time.

  A dull rumble drifted up from below. Close to two thousand people had gathered to watch Vance Delaren speak the words that would make him president. Another eight billion would be watching the vid-link beamed to every planet in the Rigian system.

  It promised to be quite a show.

  An honor guard of Rigian military police stood to attention at the rear of the stage and an orchestra warmed up in the pit in front. The discordant noise grated on my already tense nerves.

  Sweat trickled down my face. Fuck, it was hot up here.

  I watched the activity on the stage below as dignitaries were shown to their seats. Delaren sat in the front row, directly behind the podium, speaking with one of his advisors.

  He looked surprisingly calm for a man who had to know he was about to die.

  The knot in my stomach tightened as Dorbrin Jasser was escorted to a seat on the stage behind and slightly to the right of Vance Delaren.

  What was he doing here? Did he come to watch his rival die? Did he want to make sure I did the job right?

  I drew a deep breath and forced myself to think about it logically. As the leader of what amounted to the Rigian system’s official opposition, he had probably received his invitation weeks ago.

  The ceremony began with the planetary anthem of Rigis Prime, slow and ponderous, filled with brass and the booming cadence of a kettle drum. I watched Jasser through my scope as he played at being graceful in defeat.

  My gaze shifted back to Delaren, and I was shaken by the flash of indecision that rocked me.

  Jasser or Delaren.

  Corruption or Hope.

  Vance Delaren believed he could make a difference. Maybe he could.

  But even if he could, why should I care?

  I thrust my doubts aside. I couldn’t afford a conscience, it was bad for business.

  Focus.

  The last strains of the anthem faded into silence and a muted rustling drifted from the auditorium as the guests resumed their seats.

  I drew a deep breath, my finger tightening around the trigger.

  One shot.

  I adjusted the scope, waiting.

  The Chief Justice of the Chamber of Laws welcomed the gathered dignitaries and honored guests, his voice blurring into an unintelligible drone on the edge of my awareness.

  Finally, he introduced Delaren.

  Thunderous applause erupted as the president-elect stood to approach the podium.

  I released my breath slowly, allowing the tension to dissipate. Feeling the calm that always comes in the moments before I pull the trigger.

  Time slowed.

  There was only the beating of my heart and the image of my target in the cross-hairs.

  I fired.

  The stage lights hid the rifle’s muzzle flash.

  Dorbrin Jasser’s head jerked back, then he slumped sideways into the woman seated next to him. At first she looked annoyed, then horror filled her face as she realized he was dead. She leapt to her feet, screaming, then swooned and collapsed like a deflated, Lyrian silk-clad balloon.

  Outraged shouts filled the theater as the audience became aware of what happened, and the stage exploded as security personnel thrust Delaren to the floor.

  Crazy as a fucking loon. That’s what I am. Seriously, seriously, nuts.

  I quickly disassembled the rifle, dropping the pieces into my backpack. Grabbing the visored helmet, I left the theater through the door at the far end of the catwalk, emerging onto the roof.

  In the courtyard below, security personnel tried to push their way through the velvets and silks pouring from the theater. They reminded me of fish trying to swim upstream.

  A series of ladders descended to the lower levels of the roof. I skirted the ventilation shafts and dropped the last dozen feet to the ground. My ship was fuelled and ready to fly, all I had to do was reach it. By the time Rigian security sorted themselves out, I’d be on my way out of the system.

  Chapter 2

  A blockade of the surrounding streets was underway—soon the entire city would be in lockdown.

  Now that I was out, the armor I’d liberated became a bigger blessing. I could blend into the military presence and make my way back to my car without being detained and searched. Getting through the security cordon had become much easier.

  I peered around the side of the theater. Military vehicles approached, but their progress was slowed by the crush of civilian traffic trying to leave the theatre grounds. MPs attempted to search each vehicle, but it didn’t appear they were getting much cooperation—most of the Rigian highbrow snots just wanted to get the hell home.

  The chaos could be used to my advantage.

  I headed east across the park, moving in the general direction of the metro core and my car. The foot traffic was insane, and the streets were clogged with people, most of them curiosity hounds who’d seen the shooting over the vid-link and had come to gawk. Loud speakers blared as the military tried to restore some kind of
order and a low, rumbling whine from above told me the air patrol had been called in.

  The news agencies would have reporters on their way. It wouldn’t be long before word of Jasser’s assassination spread beyond the Rigian system.

  Voices chattered in my helmet. Orders were issued, plans formulated. The perimeter around the theater was almost secure, soon the search would expand to include the park and surrounding streets. The spaceport had been shut down and all non-military flights cancelled. It was a very good thing I hadn’t docked my star jumper there. A civilian security patrol vehicle approached, and I hid in plain sight as it slowed to pass.

  I looked back across the street and park to the theater. The blockade had been erected and order was gradually being restored. The surrounding streets had been cordoned off and riot police kept the gawkers from getting too close. I passed through the barricade on the pretense of joining a military search team gathering across the street. My car was only a couple of blocks away. There was only one more checkpoint that I could see; once past it, I’d be free and clear.

  A commotion behind me drew my attention. Jasser’s driver and a couple of his men were attempting to bully their way through the barricade. Their tactics weren’t having much of an effect until one of them produced a substantial wad of cash. Money changed hands, and they were waved through.

  Another shining example of Rigian economics.

  I looked north, towards the Iron District. The crowds were heavier that way, and there were still enough military types floating around that my armor wouldn’t draw that much additional attention. It would be easier to get lost in the shuffle, but it also meant a time consuming detour as I circled back to where my car waited.

  Unless, of course, I stole another one.

  I smiled as the criminal charges multiplied in my head. Breaking and entering. Impersonating a police officer. Murder. Car theft.

  Not bad for a single night’s work.

  As much fun as this little game of hide and seek was, I didn’t have time to play it. I took a calculated risk and dropped back, leaving the relative security of the search team, and headed towards a cross street that would take me back to the alley where my car waited. A voice chirped in my ear, someone demanding that I identify myself. I muttered a curse and continued walking. The whole Rigian MP charade had just played itself out. Jasser’s driver nudged one of his partners and nodded in my direction.