The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame

by Bard Constantine

  “I’m betting ten large can make you reconsider.” I pushed the loaded dib card his direction with my finger.

  He didn’t even glance at it. “Chump change. I get twice that as an advance for just a consultation.”

  “That’s all you’re getting from me. That and my eternal gratitude. You might require a man of my skills at some point or another. I’d owe you.”

  He scratched the stubble on both of his chins. “I might, sure. But I don’t deal in mights. I deal in absolutes. And there’s absolutely no way I give up that kinda info without a much larger incentive.”

  I set my fork down and wiped my mouth with the napkin. “I got a major incentive for you.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “You going home in one piece tonight.”

  He hesitated, studying my face as if to see if I was joking. Then he burst out laughing.

  “You got some balls, pal. Whaddya gonna do, jump me? Beat me down? You?” His chubby parts shook with mirth. “Or you plan on pulling your heater? Trust me, I got a loaded scattergun right here that’ll fill you with daylight if you even dream of putting your hand inside your jacket.”

  I grinned. “You got me, Mack. I don’t plan on doing a thing to you.”

  “Then why you gotta do this tough guy shtick? You’re about to lost my interest real quick, bud.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I told you I wasn’t gonna do a thing to you. I didn’t say anything about him.” I jerked a thumb at Benny, who turned at that exact moment. The sneer on his face was perfect as he cracked his knuckles so loud the sound echoed.

  “That’s Ben the Bear. He’s Moe Flacco’s nephew. You might have heard of him on account of how he rips saps limb from limb. He says he likes the fat ones. They can take a lot more punishment.”

  Benny grinned.

  Sweat beaded on Joe’s forehead as his glance wavered from me to Benny. He swallowed. “I’m not kidding about that scattergun. You boys try something and I’ll–”

  “You gonna talk about that thing or you gonna pull it? I’m a man with the Mob on one shoulder and the Secret Service on the other. I got nothing to lose, friend. So you go ahead and burn powder if you got the nerve. You better hope you bump both of us off, though. That way you’ll be explaining to the Borgata why you whacked one of their buttons.”

  Joe’s rubbery lips quivered. “Youse guys can’t be coming in here putting the squeeze on me. I know people.”

  “Not the people I know. Or else you’d be begging to squeal, little piggy. So what’s it gonna be? I don’t got all day.”

  “Ok, ok.” Joe heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Look, I got connections with a few suits in Customs. I wave some dibs, they turn a blind eye to certain shipments coming in. Keeps ‘em off the books.”

  “I know how it works, Ace. I wanna know about a shipment with some rather unique cargo. As in a live body. A female one, to be exact. Had to be recent. A week or two back, I’m thinking.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I know just the one you’re talking about. A strange one, that was. Nothing strange about smuggling a dame, of course. We get girls in from time to time.”

  “Spare me the details. I just wanna know who ordered the shipment.”

  “Ok, ok. What was strange was it was a double smuggle.” He grinned. “Heh. That rhymes.” His smile slipped when he saw my expression. “Anyhow, the dame was smuggled in on a shipment of narcotics.”

  “Yeah? What type?”

  “A batch of those new roofies. Ladykillers, they call ‘em.”

  My stomach clenched. “Lemme guess. They ended up parked in the Docks at Lot 76.”

  A startled look flashed across his face. “Sure did. How’d you know that? Then I guess you’d know some gonzo chump mushroomed the stash to high heaven. The girl had already pulled a clean sneak, though. Don’t know where, so don’t bother asking.”

  “Don’t worry. I know exactly who to ask.” I pushed the saucer back. “Outstanding cake, Joe. I’ll have to come back for another slice.”

  He grinned as though I’d sainted his mother. “You’re not so bad, Mr. Trubble. But hey–aint’cha gonna ask who bankrolled that shipment?”

  “No need.” I tilted my Bogart over my eyes. “Keep that dib card for your troubles, Joe. I know exactly who I’m after.”

  “Going somewhere, Vitto?”

  The hallway was golden, ornamented with dimensional scrollwork wallpaper. The carpeting was elaborate, displaying intricately woven designs in olive and burgundy. Luther Vitto had an appetite for the finer things, and his loft apartment in one of the luxury towers in the Heights was proof. Too bad I wasn’t there to admire the decor.

  His shoulders stiffened as he froze and turned slowly. The left side of his face was still swollen from getting slammed on the blackjack table the previous night. He had donned oversized saffron shades to try to cover the bruises. The glasses did a halfway decent job of screening his startled expression, but he’d have needed an entire mask to disguise the look of utter dismay that tattooed his ugly mug.

  “Mr. Trubble.” Sweat dotted his forehead. “Didn’t expect to see you. So soon, that is.” The leather satchel dropped from his hand as I stepped closer. His neck craned as he desperately searched the hall behind me.

  “Looking for your boys? They’re taking a nap right now. Ran into Ben the Bear. He doesn’t like to hibernate alone.” I nodded to his satchel. “Looks like you’re skipping out for a while. Good thing I caught you before you went to ground.”

  “Look, Mick–”

  His choppers clicked together when I walloped him with a right hook across his jaw. His head rebounded off the wall. I seized him by the nape of his neck and slammed him face-first into the same spot. The drywall crumpled, powdering his face and neck. His pork pie hat tumbled off his head and was crushed by his shuffling feet.

  I yanked him backward. “You knew all along, Vitto.” My fist ploughed into his stomach, doubling him over. “You knew Natalie came in with that shipment of Ladykillers I blew up. I specifically told you to look for Scarlett’s killer, and all the while you knew exactly who did the deed. You sat there and didn’t say a goddamn word.”

  I punctuated the sentence with an uppercut that sent him sprawling to the carpet. He lay there, wheezing for breath with his hand upraised. I didn’t bother laying down any more punishment. It wasn’t in me to kick a dog with his belly up.

  “I couldn’t…say nothing, Mick.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stared at the blood with a dazed expression. “I’m caught between a rock…and a hard place.”

  “Yeah. The SS are bad news. I get that. But you chose the wrong side in this deal, bub. I got two dead girls and counting. Not to mention a psychotic ex-girlfriend with a hit squad on call to rub me out. I need to know where she is. You spill right now and I’m the best friend you ever had. You don’t and I’m your worst enemy. Make your choice.”

  Vitto’s face sagged. “I tell you and I’m a dead man. You know that.”

  I yanked the Mean Ol’ Broad from her holster and aimed right between his eyes. “You don’t tell me and you’re a dead man. What’s it gonna be?”

  “I…can’t. You don’t understand–” Tears glistened in his frightened eyes. “You haven’t been face to face with him.”

  “With who? I thought you dealt with Natalie. She might be one bad broad, but I didn’t think she’d have you blubbering like a little nance. Man up, Vitto.”

  “Not her. The man. Dressed in all black. He’s pulling all the strings–had me set up the drug shipment to smuggle the SS dame in. But he’s also been tracking down every Service mole in New Haven and rubbing them out. I don’t know what the hell his game is. But I can’t face him again. He’s got those eyes…the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen. He told me what he’ll do if I betray him. And the girl? She’s almost as scary as he is. I was a fool to ever get involved in this gambit. You want to shoot me? Go right ahead. You’d be doing me a favor.”


  I didn’t see the point in threatening him further. He was broken, pitiful as a turtle that lost its shell. I put the Broad away and pulled out my deck of smokes instead. I lit one and puffed for a minute.

  “This spook that has you all shaken and stirred–he got a name?”

  “He never gave me a name.” Vitto gave a resigned shake of his head. “I never asked. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want any of this.”

  “You deal with bad men and you get yourself neck-deep in a world of hurt, Mack. Next time stick to sharking loans.”

  Vitto shakily pushed himself up to his knees. “What…what are you going to do to me, Mick?”

  “You? Nothing. You’re small change. I’m betting large.”

  “You won’t win. Not against these odds. This guy–he’s different. He doesn’t make mistakes. He’ll kill you, Mick. And if he doesn’t, that psycho dame will.”

  I grinned as I strode toward the elevator. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  I nearly tripped over Vitto’s boys when I entered the parking garage. Their unconscious bodies lay neatly arranged on the garage floor. Benny lounged against the wall few yards away. He grinned when he saw me approach.

  “Thanks for showing me that chokehold, Mick. Beats the hell outta having to knock a guy out.”

  “Yeah, just make sure you apply the proper pressure if you don’t wanna kill the sap. You’re a big lug, don’t forget that.” I glanced at my wrist when my holoband buzzed and lit up.

  “Ms. Sinn. I guess you survived your digital tennis match with your bioroid buddy.”

  She smiled from the digital display. “You might say that. I have a location for you if you’re not busy.”

  “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I’m doing if you’re half as good as you say you are.”

  “I hope you had fun threatening poor Luther Vitto. There’s a 97.5 percent chance he’d kill himself before revealing any information about Natalie’s location, if he even knows it. The man is righteously terrified. If your aim was to see whether or not he would squeal, you could have just asked me and saved yourself the trip.”

  “I’ve been asking you a lot of questions, Ms. Sinn. Not getting many answers. But since you brought it up, who’s this mystery man he was gabbing on about?”

  Her lips pursed. “Someone very good at masking his digital signature. Not to worry. We can focus on him after settling the matter at hand.”

  I nodded. “Right. One thing at a time. You said something about a location.”

  “Sending it to your holoband.”

  The location pulled up on my display. “Sanford’s Scrap Yard? You gotta be kidding me.”

  “You know how appearances are in this town, Mick.”

  “All too well, Ms. Sinn. All too well.”

  Sanford’s Scrap Yard was where wheelers and floaters went to die. From there the rolling or hovering vehicles were unceremoniously stripped, crushed, melted down, and shipped to Remanufacturing. It was a sprawling lot of vehicle corpses in the Industrial District on the edge of the Flats. The place was barricaded off with laser wires and electrical fences, while roving drone guns and robotic guard dogs patrolled against the more resilient looters.

  None of that mattered when Sinn was on your side.

  Maxine barreled through the fencing Ms. Sinn rendered completely unresponsive. We tore across the gravel as the drone guns tracked our movement but never fired a shot. The gleaming mechanized dogs followed for a few tense seconds, snapping at the wheels with their syringe-equipped fangs. But the metallic mutts ate the ground in clouds of dust and flailing limbs when Ms. Sinn worked her digital magic.

  She buzzed in over the line. “Your target goes by the name Lord Troll. I just sent his network a present that should bypass his security system and get you inside.”

  Maxine squealed to a halt in front of a ramshackle depot in the middle of the scattered heaps of junk. I leaped out and gestured to the door. It ripped off its hinges when Benny rammed it with his shoulder. Loud cursing greeted us as I leaped in and fanned the cramped room over with the Mean Ol’ Broad. I lowered it when I saw the type of skel we were dealing with.

  He had the type of scrawny muscularity developed by a regimen of energy drinks and pushups. Biomechanical tattoos covered his bare arms, most of his back and part of his bare chest. Visor goggles covered his eyes, blinking rapidly with alternating fluorescents. His narrow head was topped by a two-toned mohawk fashioned like feathers.

  Multiple holographic consoles surrounded him, creating the illusion of being encircled by glimmering light and coding. The rest of the room was filled with trash and junk, as if Lord Troll only paused long enough to consume something and let it drop to the floor.

  “Bugger me!” He pounded the static-filled console in front of him with gloved fists. “I just got this bodgy piece of bull dust back up and it goes cactus again? Who the bloody hell is this slager?”

  “I’d worry less about that and more about your current situation, Ace.” I pointed the Mean Ol’ Broad his direction. “Unless you like lead poisoning, that is.”

  “Get stuffed, ya wanker.” His attention never wavered from the screen in front of him as his fingers flew across the keyboard impossibly fast. “I don’t give a rat’s arse who the hell you are. But you’re a few roos loose in the top paddock if you think you can barge in here making threats. You got no idea who you’re screwing with, do you?”

  I nodded at Benny.

  His oversized hand wrapped around the back of Lord Troll’s neck. In less than a second Troll’s heavy combat boots dangled above the floor while he gagged and struggled to break Benny’s iron grip.

  I lit a gasper and took a step closer. “I think you got it the wrong way, cyber boy. You’re the one with no idea of who you’re screwing with. My name’s Mick Trubble. You and your crew have been looking for me.”

  His expression changed from defiant to uneasy in the blink of an eye. I nodded to Benny, who let Lord Troll drop into the refuse of the heavily littered floor. He sat up and massaged his neck while looking at me as though I was an oversized cockroach. I tried not to wince at the numerous piercings on his face, including black spikes across his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

  He removed the cybernetic eye gear and squinted as if not used to outside light. “You’re the bugger Natalie’s so obsessed with. I told that stupid cunt that we should’ve toe-tagged you days ago. She swears getting your memory back is more valuable than towing in your stiff.”

  “Mighty gracious of her.”

  “Pig’s arse. Gracious ain’t a word you use with Natalie. You’re zotzed, you know that? This place is tricked out to alarm the crew if any dill crashes without authorization. Chopper squad’s on the way. Feel me?”

  I aimed and pulled the trigger. The Broad boomed overly loud in the small room.

  Lord Troll screamed and clutched his ruined hand. “You bloody bastard! What the hell did you do that for?” He gritted his silver-plated teeth and rocked back and forth with his knees clamped over the bloody hand.

  I gestured with the Mean Ol’ Broad. “Making sure you feel me. Figure you won’t be as quick on the digital draw with a handicap. Don’t think I didn’t see your fingers twitching toward that alarm you got tricked up under your chair. So maybe you’re beginning to understand your predicament, Ace. I’m not here to gab about the weather. I’m commandeering your command post here. And your friends aren’t gonna do jack about it because they don’t know what’s going on.”

  Lord Troll shuddered as if trying to fight his body going into shock. Which made the twisted grin on his face all the more puzzling.

  “I wouldn’t bet on that, mate.”

  The Datacom in my ear buzzed as Ms. Sinn broke in. “I’m registering movement coming your way, Mick. Something big.”

  Chapter 17: Ben the Bear

  I snuck a peek around the damaged door frame. A large figure tromped toward our location, covered head to toe in heavy combat armor. His right arm was enc
ased in an oversized turret gun that whirred when he pointed it our direction. The ammo belt fed from a massive pack on his sturdy back. A helmet scope covering his left eye projected a targeting laser that shimmered inside the depot.

  Sinn buzzed over the Datacom. “Looks like Lord Troll had a watchdog. Codename: Buckshot. Standard Secret Service cyborg combat unit.”

  “I thought you took out everything jacked into the network, Ms. Sinn. Can’t you take this lug out with your magical hacking powers?”

  “These units run off their own personal area networks for that very reason. It will take me a few minutes to link to his system and shut him down.”

  I kept my eyes on the behemoth outside. “I don’t think I have a few minutes.”

  Buckshot tilted his head. “LT, you all right in there?”

  “I’m good, Buckster,” Lord Troll said. “Just sorting it out with some uninvited guests. Don’t worry about me–feel free to smoke these bloody ratbags.”

  “Roger that.”

  My eyes widened as Buckshot’s turret arm lifted. “Benny, get down!”

  I dropped to the floor as the burst of heavy fire tore the depot to shreds. The sound of the close-range fire and the subsequent bullets razing computer equipment and consoles was nearly deafening. Sparks showered, and the stench of burning electronics stung my nostrils as I desperately hugged the splintery woodgrain and prayed I wouldn’t resemble a slice of Swiss cheese after it was over. I glanced over and saw Lord Troll wriggle into a recess in the floor. He flipped me the bird as he disappeared from sight. A panel slid shut, cutting off my view.

  I tapped my holoband. “Maxine, I need some interference now!”

  I heard the discharge as the chaff missiles were fired from Maxine’s concealed compartments. A second later the barrage ended and the cursing began.

  “Benny?”

  “I think I’m ok, Mick.” He lay prone, gasping for breath in the corner a few feet away. The volley of slugs surprisingly missed his oversized frame.