Lion

by Matt Rogers

  Slater eyed the three-pronged neck tattoos snaking their way over each man’s collar. He’d spotted the symbols within seconds of laying eyes on the pair. He’d registered it in the back of his head and made a mental note to not let it slip.

  ‘Your triad,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘They run level 44, don’t they?’

  Slater had spotted identical tattoos on the pair of staff who had interviewed him before bringing him down to the den of debauchery.

  ‘Yes,’ Tak admitted, realising there was no way out of an explanation. ‘But—’

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

  Slater backed up a half-step, raised one leg and smashed it into the small of Antoine’s back. The less experienced man staggered wildly forward, crumpling against the front of the cable car as he failed to find his balance. By that point Slater had changed levels, crouching down as best he could given his wonky leg.

  He wrapped both hands around Tak’s Beretta and used the strength afforded to him by icy fury to wrench the gun free, tearing it from the man’s grasp before the triad thug had even realised what was happening. From there it was a simple act of lining the weapon up with the underneath of Tak’s chin — the safety had already been disengaged — and pumping the trigger once.

  The bullet entered the soft skin around the man’s jaw, hurling him back across the elevator. Slater stood and fired three successive shots into Antoine’s chest — the man had only now managed to turn around from his awkward ricochet off the wall.

  Blood sprayed from Antoine’s chest.

  Slater wheeled, put a bullet in Tak’s forehead for good measure, then turned straight back to Antoine and blasted his temple apart in quick succession.

  He reached out, slapped the down button at the bottom of the elevator’s panel, and waited for the cable car to change course and complete its three-second journey back to where it had started.

  The doors opened, revealing Shien frozen in shock, gobsmacked at the turn of events. She turned her eyes away from the blood coating the walls of the cable car.

  ‘Told you I’d be back soon,’ Slater muttered, stepping over the bodies on his way out of the elevator.

  47

  Forrest realised, in an epiphany, how little money and power truly meant in the end.

  He sat numb on the floor of his grand dining room, knees tucked to his chest, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the sweeping panoramic windows. They provided an unparalleled view of Macau’s skyline, just as he found himself surrounded by unparalleled luxury, sitting atop an unparalleled empire that no-one from his humble background had ever dared to attempt.

  But he’d lost himself along the way.

  Or had he ever found himself in the first place?

  Fuck it, he thought. Doesn’t matter.

  He took a fifth giant mouthful of vodka from a tall frosted glass bottle, which proved the breaking point for his poor gag reflex. All the alcohol he’d hammered down his throat over the past hour came up in a projectile of burning liquid. He spewed the gunk across the floor alongside him, then rocked back into position, pale and sweating. He didn’t have the energy to move. He stared out at the city and wondered when the next dose of bad news would strike.

  The phone rang.

  He grimaced — over the last few days he’d likened the sound of his shrilling mobile device to a virtual death sentence. He snatched up the smartphone and dragged a finger across the screen, answering the call.

  ‘Please tell me you got the job done.’

  ‘Uh, Peter, it’s Jim.’

  Forrest sat bolt upright, nervous energy coursing through him. ‘Why the fuck are you talking to me? Where are the others?’

  ‘They didn’t want me to tag along, sir. I’m a newcomer, after all. They wanted me to sit back and check in with them every thirty seconds as a sort of accountability process. So I knew not to panic.’

  ‘And?’ Forrest said, although he knew exactly where the conversation was headed.

  ‘I’m panicking.’

  ‘How long’s it been?’

  ‘Six minutes since last contact. There’s no explanation for it. They’re all professionals — you know that. I think they’re dead, boss.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Forrest roared at the top of his lungs.

  ‘Are there cameras down there?’ Jim said. ‘Can we check?’

  ‘Of course there aren’t cameras. Can you imagine if someone accidentally got their hands on that kind of footage?’

  Jim had been briefed on Mountain Lion’s darkest secrets after being accepted into Forrest’s team of enforcers. The kid only had a five-year stint in the Australian Special Air Service Regiment on his record, but a dishonourable discharge and a recommendation from one of Forrest’s hometown contacts had led him to the doors of Mountain Lion with a mean streak and an insatiable addiction to money. Same as all the other enforcers Forrest employed — albeit, they had a little more experience.

  ‘They’re dead,’ Forrest said with finality. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘HQ.’

  ‘Get yourself up to my penthouse.’

  ‘I don’t think I have clearance to—’

  ‘You’re not following, Jim.’

  Silence crept down the line. Jim didn’t respond.

  ‘This is it,’ Forrest said. ‘Everything’s gone to hell. There’s no way I’m going to make it out of here, mate. I need you to do something for me before you get on your way.’

  ‘On my way?’

  ‘Get as far away from me as possible.’

  ‘Nah, Peter. Can’t do that. You’ve been so good to me.’

  ‘Then do one thing for me.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m ninety percent certain there’s a man on his way up to my penthouse to kill me. He’s the guy who’s been fucking with me this entire time, along with the triad and everyone else in goddamn Macau. But I stood next to this motherfucker in the elevator. I stood right next to him.’

  ‘You sure it was him?’

  ‘He was on his way to level 44. Then my entire team wind up dead on the live floor in the basement. It’s him. He’s the same guy who killed half my men when I sent them after the girl.’

  ‘I can get myself in position.’

  ‘No. He’ll kill you, just like he killed everyone else.’

  ‘Then what?’

  Forrest paused, breathing hard before he made his next move. He could recognise he was slipping dangerously close to lunacy, but he didn’t care anymore.

  ‘The zookeepers are on call twenty-four-seven, yes?’

  ‘Uh, I think so.’

  ‘Round them up. Whoever’s in the complex. Tell them to put the pair of Tsavo lions on the walkway above the enclosure.’

  ‘Is this some kind of sick initiation, you fuckwit?’ Jim snarled, suddenly furious. ‘Am I on a hidden camera show? Is the team gonna burst in here laughing their balls off because I got roped into believing something like this?’

  Forrest let the laughter break from his lips, cackling and giggling and rolling around on the floor of his empty penthouse, succumbing to the madness. ‘Oh, mate. I wish. I wish, buddy.’

  ‘Peter. You don’t sound okay.’

  ‘I’m not okay. Get the fucking lions on the walkway or I’ll have you killed myself. Understand?’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Put. The. Lions. On. The. Walkway.’

  ‘Why? What are you hoping to achieve?’

  Forrest gazed out at his empire. ‘I’ve achieved everything, Jimmy boy. I’ve got nothing left to achieve. But I can sure have some fun before I wind up six feet under. Go out with a bang, as they say.’

  He picked himself up — a sorry sight indeed — and hobbled across the dining room to the other side of the penthouse. From here he could stare out over Mountain Lion’s emporium, and the network of private walkways hovering above the luscious artificial jungle a couple of dozen feet below.

  ‘I want to watch,’ he whisper
ed into the phone, not caring what Jim thought of him. ‘I want to see the expression on this guy’s face when he realises what he’s walking into. The lions — oh my God. I knew I bought them for a reason. Let’s have some fun with this, Jimmy boy.’

  ‘Will you let me go if I do this for you?’

  ‘Yeah, mate,’ Forrest said. ‘Humour me this one favour. Then go bury your head in the sand.’

  ‘Alright, Peter. I’ll get going. Good luck with all your problems.’

  ‘Thank you, Jimmy boy. Thank you.’

  48

  ‘Now, I actually need to leave you,’ Slater said. ‘I’m not bluffing this time.’

  They stood a couple of dozen feet inside the corridor, hovering in a stretch of the sub-level without bodies splayed across the floor. A rare sight, given recent events.

  ‘I don’t understand…’ Shien said, tears in her eyes. ‘You just said you wouldn’t have really gone up there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have gone up there with them. They were part of the reason you got kidnapped in the first place, Shien. Their organisation runs this floor. They didn’t set you free out of any moral responsibility. They set you free because it would work best for them to pin their dirty dealings on you. Do you understand what I mean?’

  ‘I understand they were bad men,’ she sniffled. ‘But I was being serious when I said you’d die up there.’

  ‘The most dangerous men came down here, Shien. I killed them. No-one’s left. Now it’s just the guy who started all of this.’

  ‘But why?!’ Shien yelled.

  It was the first time Slater had ever heard her raised voice. Previously she’d drifted through the chaos alongside him, drowsy to what was really going on. Then she’d regained full motor function and the detached mentality had given way to raw fear.

  Now, she was angry.

  ‘Will,’ she said, after he’d had time to process the outburst. ‘I don’t get it. I don’t get why you need to kill more people. We can leave. We can leave right now and no-one will follow us. Look at all the trouble you’ve caused around here. You think they’re going to focus on getting me back? They’ll be focusing on keeping themselves alive. We need to go, Will. We need to get out of here. I can’t stay here any longer — I don’t like the memories of this place. You don’t need to do this.’

  He paused, reeling from the tirade, recognising that she was absolutely right. He’d been surging forward with relentless momentum for such an extended period of time that it hadn’t clicked yet.

  The damage was done.

  Forrest’s organisation was in ruins. Slater now knew for a fact that the man had other enemies in the triad and God knows where else, all out hunting for his head. In truth, Slater could walk out the door with Shien and never return — and, at some point, Peter Forrest would meet his demise.

  But that didn’t sit right with Slater.

  He’d never been one to walk away.

  And seeing this conflict through to its bloody conclusion had become something greater than himself, something linked to a darker part of his past that he wanted to destroy forever.

  ‘It’s personal,’ was all he could manage to say, suddenly overwhelmed by raw emotion.

  Shien sensed it.

  He wasn’t sure how, or what level of genius she truly had, but all of a sudden he noticed the expression in her face shift into one of sympathy, of understanding and trust and approval.

  ‘Go do what you need to do, Will,’ she muttered.

  Slater nodded. He found himself at a loss for words, unable to console Shien in any way.

  He realised she didn’t need consoling.

  If anything, she was the one supporting him.

  ‘I’ll go get this done,’ he said. ‘Then we can work out where to go. But I need this. For me.’

  ‘I know.’

  He touched a hand to her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, trying his best to reassure her. ‘Stay safe.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. There’s no-one left down here, anyway. Hurry back.’

  ‘That room I mentioned,’ he said. ‘With the girls. I was telling the truth. Tell them to stay as calm as possible.’

  ‘Do they have the same stuff in their system that I had?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Then I won’t need to tell them to calm down, will I?’

  Slater nodded. ‘Right.’

  ‘Good luck, Will. Even though I know you don’t need it.’

  Slater turned on his heel and snatched up the M4A1 carbine he’d dropped moments earlier. He thumbed the magazine release button on the side of the weapon and confirmed there were ample bullets. His rudimentary search revealed a full magazine. He hammered it back home.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ he said.

  He hauled Tak and Antoine’s lifeless bodies out of the cable car, used the control panel to close the doors, and shot straight back up to level 44 with resolution on his mind.

  49

  The process took at least a couple of minutes to complete, but Slater went through the motions underneath a foggy haze. Like he’d been placed under a spell, he lurched from movement to movement with a practiced urgency. The private elevator arrived at level 44 with a resounding thump and he hurried straight out into the plush hallways.

  He knew that if he encountered anyone — anyone at all — on this level, he would gun them down in cold blood. Their sheer presence would spell all the guilt Slater was looking for — one didn’t end up here by mistake. Somehow he hated the false veneer of luxury on this floor more than the stale industrial look of the sub-levels. At least the darker levels were honest. Everything on this floor reeked of toxic perfume, a musk that permeated the walls and floors and ceilings. Slater hurried straight to the bank of elevators accessible to the public, wondering why exactly Forrest had allowed them to reach his private penthouse.

  After all, the man had been on the way to the top of the complex when Slater had encountered him.

  He reached the bank of public elevators without incident. The corridors were silent — as if everyone who ordinarily populated this section of Mountain Lion had recognised the collapse of the operation underneath them and bailed from a sinking ship. The thought infuriated Slater — he pictured the staff delivering the girls to their customers sinking back into day-to-day life without repercussion, free from any guilt or wrongdoing.

  They would commit the same crimes again.

  People like that were destined to repeat the process.

  Finding work wherever they could.

  Of any nature.

  He took solace in the knowledge that he had a lot of living left to do, and hoped he would run into them one day.

  All of them.

  Charged with rage, he stepped into a vacant elevator and entered the highest possible floor number available to him — 102. The cable car grumbled underneath him and shot toward the stratosphere, moving fast, leaving Slater no time to turn back.

  Not that he ever would.

  The thought was as foreign a concept as he could possibly fathom.

  He snatched hold of the M4A1’s tactical grip with one hand, slicing a finger inside the trigger guard with the other. He recognised his disadvantages — he was effectively operating on one leg, with no understanding of the layout of the top floor.

  He had no idea where exactly Forrest would be hiding.

  He didn’t know whether there were reinforcements protecting the man.

  All in all, a disaster. But Slater figured if he’d come this far, he could manage the final stretch. No matter how dire the circumstances.

  Then the elevator arrived at its destination, slotting into place at the top of the shaft with a satisfying click, and the doors whispered open.

  And the whole world went horrifyingly mad.

  Slater had never sensed animalistic power like this. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled before he even had a proper glance at what lay in front of him. He simply sensed raw strength and sinewy muscle, nothing human.
He realised if the elevator hadn’t operated with such pleasant silence, he would have already been dead.

  No fucking way, he thought, flabbergasted.

  On the steel walkway leading away from the bank of elevators rested a gigantic predator, as tall as Slater and three times as heavy, facing the opposite direction. The beast sat on its haunches, its great back aimed toward him, rising and falling with each panting breath. It was watching, waiting, stalking. Slater stood still as a statue inside the cable car, not daring to raise the carbine rifle in his hands, not daring to do anything but stare in awe at the massive creature.

  As his brain started operating again, recovering from the sheer shock of standing in the presence of such a terrifying predator, he connected the dots of what he could see.

  It was a lion.

  But it was unlike any lion he’d ever seen before.

  For starters, the beast sat only a few feet from Slater’s position, so close he could smell its skin. Being in such close proximity to a natural murder machine locked up his limbs, stifling him with terror. On top of that he soaked in the sight of the lion’s hairless body, missing any kind of regal mane or lush golden coat typical of wildlife photos of the predators.

  This was a different breed. A less aesthetically pleasing breed.

  A savage breed.

  Slater realised he had to act only a couple of seconds after the elevator doors swung open. If he remained motionless, frozen in fright, the doors would omit a harsh electronic beeping noise to signal they were about to close. That would put the beast on him in a heartbeat.

  He couldn’t fathom the proximity. If he wanted to, he could take a single step forward, reach out, and touch it. But if he moved in the slightest, it would twist on its haunches and launch itself into the cable car, goring him to a bloody pulp in seconds.

  You have to do something.

  Anything.

  Seized by analysis paralysis — something Slater ordinarily didn’t have much experience with — he opted to simply act. He’d made it this far in life operating off instinct, and he feared hesitating would ruin his luck.

  Even if every bone in his body screamed to stay completely still.

  He knew hell would break loose.

  He moved regardless.

  In one action he wrenched the carbine rifle up to shoulder height and depressed the trigger, clenching his teeth hard enough to break molars in an attempt to ride out the terror coursing through his body.