The Austin Job

by David Mark Brown

  “Just stop looking like you’re enjoying the view so much.”

  “I look in self-preservation only, I assure you. Now drop.” Starr held out his arms as Daisy fell from the opening in the ceiling.

  She lighted upon him softly, the bulky gun belt nearly slipping from her waist. “That’s the second time in two days you’ve called me fat.”

  “As you wish, Miss Lickter. Now if you can fit that six shooter through the washroom door, shall we get on with saving your father?

  “Right.” Her expression grew serious. “I’ll take a look.” He nodded as she eased the door open. After a few seconds she let the door drift silently shut. “Eight or nine of them. They’re guarding the entrance and…” She faltered. “My daddy.”

  “How—”

  “He looks pretty bad. I’ve seen him worse, but it’s pretty bad.” She swallowed as he squeezed her hand. “If I know my father, he’s holding something back.” She spoke more to herself than to Starr. “So it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Sounds about right.” He winked. “So now what? I take four and you take four? Or do you want five?”

  “About that. I think I have an idea.” She stretched toward his ear on tiptoes and explained her plan in broad strokes. “What do you think?”

  He held the corners of his mouth down with his fingers. “I think it’s perfect. Seriously though,” he gripped her with earnest eyes. “You can do this? It’s not just our safety we’re talking about here.”

  She nodded. “It’ll work. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s the workings of a young man’s mind when it comes to ladies. This is the last thing they’ll see coming.”

  “That, Miss Lickter, I’ve no reason to doubt.” He cracked the door for a peek. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath and drew the .38.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Second to Last Chapter

  Pointing the sonic gun at the floor, Starr waited for Daisy’s lead. She caught a glimpse of her father slouched against an ottoman with his hands tied behind his back and bit her lip. Lickter’s head sagged forward, blood dripping from his brow and the tip of his nose. But Starr was concerned more about Daisy.

  Her breath came too fast, ragged. Her emotions were getting the better of her. She had to find the tipping point and push it back, converting fear to anger. He nudged her once. Taking a deep breath, she ducked through the doorway. Starr’s first thought was that ‘bringing up the rear’ had forever taken on a new meaning. But as the door closed behind him he began counting targets—nine men, none of them looking at the holding pen filled with frightened female tellers. This crazy plan just might work.

  Daisy motioned to him, counted down with her fingers and bolted on bare feet for the high counter dividing the lobby from the work space. Starr followed closer than a shadow. Together the two of them crossed half the room before anyone noticed.

  “Hey!” A snot-nosed youth waved his shotgun in the air, threatening the chandeliers. But he drew the attention of the rest, and Starr wasn’t quite as confident as Daisy that none of them would have the balls to shoot a lady.

  On cue, gunfire exploded within the confines of the lobby. He flinched, anticipating a hot pinch in his good cheek, but it never came. Instead he watched as Daisy leapt feet-first and skidded over the top of the counter, her dress climbing about her waist. Choosing the vault route instead, he gripped the edge with both hands and slung himself over.

  Several sets of bulging and panicked eyes greeted him as a shotgun blast peppered the lobby side of the counter. The echoing gunfire bled together, rendering it impossible to think. Yet, Daisy had already begun rousting her recruits with the fire in her eyes.

  Leaving the pep talk to Daisy, he braved a peek at the broader situation. Lickter remained unmoved and for the moment unnoticed. Beneath the sheriff’s closed lids he could see eyes shifting slowly from side to side—calculating the surroundings. Relieved, he ducked behind the safety of the counter where Daisy was just getting started.

  “Ladies, this is the moment we take control.” Starr panned across the frightened faces of the well-groomed collection of women, most his age or older. Daisy continued, “These creeps chose our bank for a reason. Am I right?” She shook the woman closest to her. “A bunch of ladies? They won’t make a peep.” She stared each of them in the eyes, forcing them to connect with her on a personal level. “Look, why do you think they didn’t knock you out? Tie you up?”

  Starr was impressed with her stumping. The urgency in her voice would have made suffragists out of more than a few in the legislature. “They didn’t even leave a guard.”

  “Come on out, or someone’ll get hurt!” One of the students attempted to assert control over the situation.

  Daisy only nodded, continuing her speech. “We’ll show ‘em that they should have. Ladies, let’s take back our bank.” Hefting a particularly weighty Comet Streamline stapler, she whacked her palm to punctuate the point. “Choose your weapon of choice and gather your skirts.” She looked into the eyes of the others, most of them twice her years. Full of fear, yes. But full of experience and a bitterness that apparently lay closer to the surface than Starr would have guessed.

  The realization forced him to gage the group differently than he had seconds ago. These were a force to be reckoned with, and Daisy had given them permission to begin the reckoning. She shifted gears, giving a final set of practical instructions—something to cling to in the heat of battle. “We do this at once, all as one. No hesitation.”

  She waited for each woman to nod. “Once you’re on the other side don’t waste time. Find the nearest bad guy and stick with him. Take him down and keep him down. Use him as a shield if you have to. There are more of us then them, so doubling up is fine.” She winked, using Starr’s method of loosening the tension flawlessly. “Let’s do it!”

  Hitching up her skirt she leapt the counter in a fluid movement, Starr doing his best to keep pace. Side by side they burst into the fray, choosing shock over stealth. Daisy released her patented shriek, filling the lobby with the gut-clenching dread felt on the cracking surface of a frozen lake the instant before it swallows its victims in the cold grip of death.

  Ducking the barrel of a shotgun, she slid past the nearest robber and clipped the back of his knee with the full force of her Streamline. As he dropped to the floor she spun and clocked him across the brow, splitting open his forehead and toppling him completely.

  Following the hand to hand precedent Starr chose the expedient, if underhanded, boot to the groin. Then gripping the poor schmuck by the ears he followed with a quick knee to the face—fast and dirty. Ducking an unwieldy rifle, he skidded to a stop behind a sofa while watching Daisy clean up her second.

  A flurry of skirts flew all around him even as bullets ricocheted off the marble floor and lodged in the mahogany paneling. Teeth, phone cords, and fire extinguishers were weaponized as dazed men thudded to the floor or scrambled in retreat protecting their eyes and crotch. A ricochet lodged in the sofa by his head, alerting him of the few students who remained unmolested, any one of which could turn deadly. Not wanting to leave Daisy and Lickter the most vulnerable targets, Starr scrambled to his feet. But before he could intervene, he helplessly watched the unfolding of a slow-motion chain of events.

  First Lickter steamrolled the legs out from under a student taking aim at Daisy. Toppling, the student blasted the ceiling on his way down. With marble fragments and bird shot showering the lobby, he pumped another shell into the chamber while the only student to have held his own against the tellers shifted his focus toward Lickter. “Daisy!” Starr sounded the alarm as he slipped on the shattered debris.

  Spotting her father sprawled on the floor, hands still bound behind his back, Daisy blanched. “Daddy!” Before the shooter could steady his aim and squeeze the trigger, she vaulted onto his shoulders. Clutching her skirt and crossing her legs, she squeezed and pitched forward with all her weight. Tucking her he
ad, she struck the fellow on the floor with her back. Crushing the air from his lungs as she jerked sideways with a last effort of her legs, she catapulted the first victim through the air. Eventually answering to gravity, he smashed lifelessly into a couch.

  The echoing din of gunfire receded. The last of the would-be anarchists had been disabled by the hesitant suffragist army. Daisy slid to her father’s side and untied him while Starr helped a bruised teller to her feet. Shaky, the sheriff managed to stand. “For the love of Pete. I know I didn’t teach you that.”

  She laughed nervously, weeping tears of relief onto his neck. “Some things a girl’s gotta learn on her own.”

  “I’m proud of you, honey. But this isn’t over yet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not until the fat, bleeding sheriff sings.”

  He cracked a smile with the half of his mouth not swollen shut. “And just this once—”

  “Daddy.” She stomped her bare foot.

  “Try to hang back. Maybe a little.” He bent down and scooped up a shotgun from the floor. “Starr, you hit?”

  “No sir.”

  “Well come on then.” Lickter tossed the shotgun across the room where Starr caught it with one hand. “We got us a bank-robbing anarchist to kill.”

  Starr watched the strings tug his arms and legs in response. His actions had been set into motion months ago when Gwendolyn Winifryd Lloyd had chosen him for a mid-level position at The Pride of Texas National Bank. Oleg Rodchenko waited below in the vault to run out the final moves. He wasn’t sure how it would end, but he knew without a doubt that the results had been decided several moves earlier. The only question to remain—who would be left standing when the smoke cleared.

  He clutched Daisy around the waist on the way out and kissed her. “Take care of our ladies before you come bail us out. I’ll watch the old man for now.” With a crusted wink, he loped best he could to catch up to Lickter. Behind him he heard Daisy praising the work that’d been done.

  “Keep ‘em down, ladies. This will be a day Austin won’t soon forget, nor the role we women played in it.”

  ~~~

  “Thanks for hanging back for me.” Starr had a bone to pick with the sheriff before they faced Oleg. Plus, he needed to know on which side of the fence Lickter would land.

  Lickter grunted as he closed the metal door behind them. “I left you the key didn’t I?”

  “Was that you? I thought it might have been Oleg.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Cut the crap, Dad.”

  Lickter turned to face him, a snarl on his swollen, blood-caked lips. “Look, son. One thing you gotta get through your wooden skull. If I leave certain facts out, you better damn well be glad I do. Trust me.” He glared into Starr’s eyes. “The last thing you want to become is this,” indicating himself.

  Starr returned a deadpan expression as Lickter continued in a hoarse whisper. “Yeah, Oleg wanted you to follow or he wouldn’t have let me toss the keys. I suspect he only left me alive because he wasn’t positive you were still kicking after your flaming leap of death back there.”

  “Which could have been avoided,” Starr jabbed a finger into Lickter’s chest, “if you would have trusted me to begin with.”

  Lickter shook his head. “It’s not about trust, you ignorant fool. I’ve got a job to do. That job isn’t just to keep you alive, it’s to keep you clean despite the fact you insist on getting dirty.”

  “Oh, the gloves. I forgot.” Starr forced himself to take deep breaths.

  “Well here’s your chance, boy. ‘Cause at the bottom of these stairs things are gonna get dirty. And for once, it’s actually part of the plan.”

  “Here’s my plan, Sheriff,” Starr continued as the men started down the stairs, guns drawn. “First, I’m going to make sure Oleg dies for what he’s done. Then I’m going to keep playing the game the only way I know how, with dirt under my nails. I’m going to pour my heart and soul into the future of Texas. I’m going to marry your daughter and spend the rest of my life trying to be a man worthy of her.”

  Lickter snorted as he hobbled down the stairs. “Well alright then. As long as you got a plan. Word to the wise. Let those first things get in the way of the latter, and my daughter’s going to put your nuts in a sling.”

  “Point taken. But here is where you’ve gotta make a decision.” Starr waited for Lickter to stop descending the stairs and look him in the eye before he continued. “I know about the counterfeiting. I know Ms. Lloyd is responsible for all this, and I’m bringing her down when we’re through.” He watched Lickter’s face in the dim gas lighting, looking for signs of either determination or acceptance. He saw neither, so he kept talking with one eye on the sheriff’s .38. “For Daisy’s sake I’d like to keep you out of it, or on the winning side at least.”

  “And what side is that?” Lickter hadn’t flinched.

  “Not G.W.’s. She won’t recover from this. I promise.”

  Lickter peeked around the corner at the base of the stairs before looking back at Starr. “I hadn’t seen it until now, but I finally understand how Daisy fell for you so fast.” He cracked his grimacing smile through swollen lips and a puffy eye. “You’ve got deceptively big balls, son. But you better be damn sure of this, or she’ll take my daughter down with you.”

  “Your decision?” Starr remained steely eyed.

  “If it means giving Ms. Lloyd what she deserves, I certainly won’t get in the way.” He sighed. “Even if I go down with her.”

  “There shouldn’t be a need for that, you being a concerned citizen and all.”

  Lickter snorted again. “I guess we’ll see. Now, since you’re on a no crap diet from here on out, and you’re family, I’ll give it to you straight.”

  “Please.”

  “Oleg’s in this basement somewhere. He knows we’re trying to kill him. He’s going to set the place on fire and try to get out alive, most likely by killing one or both of us. This is the endgame, winner take all. You ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” With a steady exhale Lickter bolted into the dimly lit basement, the gas lights from the stairs illuminating half his bruised and bleeding face. Starr followed quickly, sticking to the near wall while Lickter crouched against the far one. Lickter shifted until he could see over his shoulder and down the corridor leading to the elevator. Giving Starr the thumbs up, the two of them continued their progress toward the vault.

  “Let me save you time and trouble, gentlemen.” Oleg’s voice echoed down the vault corridor.

  Starr tensed and watched for Lickter’s lead. The sheriff gestured to keep eyes open for anyone who might have slipped down the stairs without being noticed.

  “Is just me, and your master’s precious money. I fulfill my end of arrangement. Yet have funny feeling you do not wish to fulfill yours.”

  Lickter indicated Starr should watch their back. “That is funny.” They reached the opening to the long corridor—the only way in or out of the vault. It didn’t seem a smart play for Oleg to make. That worried Starr more than a little. “I’ve always known G.W. to be as good as his word.”

  “How good can word of dead man be? Tell me, Sheriff, from one dead man to another. How does it feel—” a wire sprang from the floor, encircling Lickter’s left leg and dragging him to the floor.

  “Sheriff!” Starr lunged forward, but a blinding burst of fire bowled him over, the heat curling what hair he had left.

  “To know you never see daughter again!” Oleg jeered before scouring the narrow hall with two more surges of liquid fire, dripping sticky flame onto every surface including Lickter’s skin. “How dare you threaten family!” Oleg screamed over the pulsing bursts he unleashed from the cramped vault packed with flammable paper. “Everything I have done is for family! Go to hell!”

  Starr scrambled on hands and knees, trying to reach Lickter to pull him clear of the flames.

  “Stay back!” Lickter bellowed. “Dear God, s
tay back!” He flailed his .38 toward Starr even as he covered his face with his hat, the flesh of his hand smoking. “Take care of her!”

  In a flash the yellow-orange glare of the flames changed to black as smoke roiled from the vault, followed by paint-pealing screams and the stench of melting flesh. Lickter stood in the temporary absence of molten fire, strips of flesh hanging from his body like tattered rags. “As long as I take you with me!” He lumbered toward the vault, pistol held out rigid in front of him.

  His gut writhing with horror, Starr bolted for the fire suppression lever by the stair. The low ceilings of the basement, the choking smoke, the skin-curdling scream, all combined to tempt him to madness. Stumbling, he nearly collided with Daisy as she emerged at the base of the stair. “James—”

  “Stay back!” Breaking the glass with his elbow, he yanked down the lever and sparked a powdery mist from the ceiling. Three deafening pops filled the basement, a quick two followed an instant later by a third. He embraced her, clasping his hands over her ears until the echo of the screaming and the shots surrendered to a sickly quiet.

  Falling limp in his embrace, she stuttered, “What’s happened?” He held her in silence for several seconds more, a mist collecting in her hair. The tang of cooked flesh replayed nightmares from the capitol lawn in Starr’s mind. Finally, he sat her on the bottom stair, took a single step backward to test if she’d stay. She didn’t flinch.

  Rushing to the vault, Starr arrived as the suppressant extinguished the last flickering tongues of flame. The burn had been accelerated and ferocious for the seconds it raged. Two bodies, one draped over the other, lay smoking amidst a heap of charred briefcases and leather bags, all filled with the ashes of paper money. Money now turning to slurry in the falling mist—money Starr had no doubt to be counterfeit.

  Stepping closer, he swallowed the urge to vomit. He tore off part of his sleeve and stooped to roll Lickter’s remains from the top of the heap. The plastic handle of the sheriff’s pistol had melted in his grip—his jaw blown off by his own hand. The powdery drizzle and the stench mingled, causing Starr to break out in a cold sweat.