Twelve

by Dustin Stevens

  Will matched him by flexing his hands and fingers out into long blades. He raised them in front of him and turned his body sideways.

  Carefully, he edged forward.

  Will curled his hands into balls and stepped forward, throwing a hard left cross at Toulson. He followed with a right hook followed by another straight left.

  Toulson feigned the first cross and stepped away from hook. As Will threw the third left, Toulson shot a quick uppercut into his ribs. A small burst of wind slid from Will’s lips as Toulson bounced back on the balls of his feet.

  “You know why I like fighting you muscle-bound blokes? You’re bloody slow.”

  Will grunted in anger as he turned and faced Toulson square.

  Across the room, Heath rose to his knees and shook his head. Cobwebs and bright lights still pawed at the edge of his vision. Beside him the woman sat back on her haunches, watching the fight unfold.

  “Slow huh?” Will spat and charged forward. He shot a quick jab forward, followed by an uppercut and another hook.

  Each met air as Toulson skirted the blows. After the hook, he shot a quick jab to the corner of Will’s mouth. Blood spurted from his bottom lip and rolled down his chin.

  “See...bloody slow.”

  Will touched at the blood on his chin, then licked it from his fingers. The taste seemed to madden him even more and he rushed straight at Toulson a third time.

  Toulson thought he was going for another series of punches and jumped to the side again. Just as he did, Will pivoted and unleashed a side kick that caught Toulson’s arm square.

  The sound of his humerus snapping filled the air. Toulson muffled a gasp of pain and stumbled backward, his arm hanging useless from his side.

  “You know why I like fighting skinny bitches like you? You break easy.”

  Toulson stared at Will for a moment, his face a mask of malevolence. He balled his remaining hand into a fist and began to charge at Will.

  Three steps was as far as he made it.

  Heath, still on his knees, waited until Toulson crossed his path and swung a kick out into his shins.

  Toulson pitched forward onto the ground, unable to catch himself with just one good arm. He had barely hit the ground when Will raised his leg high into the air and smashed his heel down onto the back of Toulson’s head.

  On contact, Toulson went limp. Heath rose to his feet and readied his hands. Will did the same across from him.

  They waited several long moments, but Toulson didn’t move.

  Fifty-Eight

  “What do you mean you have no idea?”

  Briggs shrugged again and stared helpless at the stacks around him.

  Manus mocked the look and held his hands out expectantly.

  “Alright,” Briggs said. “What you see here are stacks of legitimate business operations. Invoices for trash removal. Purchase orders for new equipment. You name it.”

  “But that’s not what’s really going on here?”

  “No it is, but that’s not all.”

  “Let’s start there,” Manus said. “How do you know that?”

  “Two reasons. First, these are all for small amounts. Nothing in here over a few grand.”

  “Not the type of thing you need around-the-clock protection for," Manus inserted.

  “Exactly.”

  “And second?”

  “And second...look at this place," Briggs said, again holding his arms out by his side. "Stacks and stacks of everything on paper. Nobody does business on paper anymore.”

  “Not somebody that’s hiding something.”

  “Agreed,” Briggs said. “So again, these are diversions.”

  Manus set his jaw and stared around the room. “Heller! What have you got over there?”

  A second later Heller’s head appeared in the doorway, shaking grimly. “More of the same I’m afraid, sir.”

  Manus clenched his teeth and exhaled through his nose. He turned his gaze back to the table. With an exasperated grunt, he shoved the stacks of paper off onto the ground in a flurry of loose paper.

  Briggs inched back from the mess, but made no effort to keep it from happening.

  A moment later, the pile got rearranged again by a deep rumbling that set the building to trembling.

  Manus leaned forward and grasped the side of the table. The rumble lasted only a moment, but the smell of smoke soon found their nostrils. “Nixon?! Stone?! What the hell is happening?”

  Manus dashed into the hallway and sprinted back the direction he had came just a few minutes before.

  “Beats the hell out of me!” Nixon yelled as he fell in behind him.

  The two beat a path for the stairwell. They descended the first flight of stairs as a heavy plume of dark smoke rose up to meet them.

  “Stand aside,” Manus said as he reached the door for the first floor. Nixon slid along the concrete wall as Manus tested the heat of the doorknob.

  It felt cool to the touch as he gripped it and jerked it open, pressing himself against the wall opposite Nixon.

  A wall of dark smoke burst into the stairwell and wrapped itself up the banister and towards the ceiling. They both waited a moment for the heaviest to past.

  Dropping into a crouch, Manus slid around the door and jogged in short choppy steps down the hall. “Stone! Stone! What the hell is happening?”

  Ahead of them they could see several dark silhouettes moving about.

  Then they heard gunfire.

  Fifty-Nine

  “You have got to be shitting me.”

  The words slid from Winston as he watched the Honeycutt’s finish off Toulson.

  “Yet another of your crude expressions I’m yet to fully grasp the etymology of,” Rosner quipped.

  Winston balled his hands into tight fists and rotated his gaze from the screens to Rosner. “It means, our long shot place holder just took out one of our contenders. It means, some guy that was playing hero this time last night just made a serious dent in our plans!”

  Rosner waved his hand at Winston. “Calm yourself Eric. You’re getting too worked up. Toulson was never going to win this thing, we both know it. Honeycutt was just kind enough to provide us with some good theater in the meantime.”

  Winston slid the betting machine over in front of them. He jabbed a finger at the corner display. “See that? Toulson was already up to eight-point-five million in bets. Honeycutt is at barely half a million.”

  “Correction. Was at barely half a million. He seems to be climbing now.”

  In just a few quick moves, the numbers ticked up to right at one and a half million dollars.

  “You’re kidding me, right? That’s our consolation?”

  Rosner removed his glasses and began to polish them again. “You’re being dramatic again.”

  “And you’re not being dramatic enough!”

  Rosner slid his eyes to Winston. “You don’t like the turn of events, do something about it.”

  Winston started to respond, but cut himself short. He mulled the words, pulled out his phone and mumbled into it.

  In response, Chester soon appeared with several printouts in hand.

  Winston spread them out in front of him. He studied each of them one at a time, running his finger over several places.

  When he found what he wanted, he stood and marched straight to the podium.

  Sixty

  “You alright?”

  Heath dabbed at the side of his head and examined his fingertips. No blood. "Yeah, I’ll be alright. Maybe a mild concussion.”

  “From one punch?”

  “The head is built to withstand front-to-back impact. Side-to-side is always a lot worse.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Heath walked over and grabbed Will’s chin, rotating it a few inches in either direction. “Any teeth loose or anything?”

  “No doctor, it’s just a busted lip.”

  Heath smirked and kneeled down by Toulson. He pressed his fingers to the side of his n
eck, then stood to his full height. Using his foot, he rolled him over onto his back.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Will asked.

  “He’ll suffocate if he lays there face down. He’s an asshole, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “The son of a bitch laid in wait for us!”

  “Still, he got his. He doesn’t need to die.”

  Will looked at his brother like he was crazy. “Ever the healer, aren’t you?”

  “No, but I’m definitely not a killer...and you’re not either.”

  Will stared down at Toulson, paused, then nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  Heath dabbed at his head again. “Self-preservation can really bring out the worst in some people.”

  Will smirked and slid his gaze from his brother to the woman huddled in the corner. “Sorry to ruin the little trap you guys set for us.”

  The woman’s eyes grew large as she raised her hands to cover half her face. “You don’t think I planned that do you?”

  Both brothers turned and stared at her. Will folded his arms across his chest.

  “Well, do you?” she asked.

  “Seems mighty convenient that you were positioned where you were, drew us in with the scream, set my brother up to get sucker punched.”

  “I had no idea he was still here! I tried to warn you the second I saw him!”

  Heath glanced over at Will. “The last thing I remember before flying through the air was her shaking her head at me.”

  “See!” she said, holding a hand out towards Heath.

  “And you couldn’t have said something?" Will pressed. "Stop? Wait? Someone’s waiting to wail on you?”

  “I...I was crying! I couldn’t get the words out!”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Heath looked at Will again. He decided to take a different approach. “What’s your name?”

  “Kelly.”

  “Kelly what?”

  “Kelly Mandrake.”

  “And how the hell did you end up in here with a bunch of hardcore fighters and roughnecks?” Will asked.

  “Is that what you are?”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “I was set-up. And my naïve ass drug him into it with me. Your excuse?”

  Kelly glanced at each of them in turn and reached into the back pocket of her jeans. From it she drew out a small leather bi-fold wallet. Holding it out at arm’s length, she showed it to Will and then Heath.

  “What the hell?” Will muttered.

  “FBI?” Heath asked.

  “Yes, I’m FBI. I’m part of a task force that’s been investigating these guys for years.”

  “These guys?” Heath asked.

  “St. Rita’s?” Will asked.

  Kelly shook her head. “These guys are not saints. They used that ruse because they had someone drop out at the last second and needed a replacement. My guess is they saw you on the news last night and figured you’d have to do.”

  Will took a step closer. “Do for what?”

  “A final competitor.”

  Will made a face of incomprehension and turned his head towards Heath. “You were right. This is some sort of modern day gladiator contest isn’t it?”

  “Yes and no. Gladiators were slaves and the crowds were everybody else. Here, the combatants are more like mercenaries and the crowds are the world’s elite.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Will muttered.

  “So they bring in a team of high end fighters, drop them in a maze and watch it all unfold? Let the best man win sort of thing?” Heath said.

  “Or woman,” Kelly responded.

  “Which is how you’re here,” Will said.

  Kelly moved her gaze between them and shook her head. “No! I’m FBI. Like I said, we’ve been tracking these guys for years.

  “I was finally starting to get somewhere when they discovered who I was. They even took me up into the woods. I thought for sure it was over. At the last second, they decided it would be more fun to drop me in here instead.”

  “And since there are other women fighters...” Heath said.

  “Exactly," Kelly said, raising a finger towards Toulson's body. "Some goon like him would see me, think I’m a competitor and rip me apart.”

  “And all those guests upstairs?” Will spat.

  “They’d sit and watch it. Smiles on their faces the whole time I’m sure.”

  Will looked at Heath. "That explains the cameras.”

  Heath’s gaze traced the perimeter of the room. “At least three in here now.”

  “Four by my count,” Kelly said.

  Will bobbed his head. A grim expression was on his face.

  “They must have pissed down their leg when they saw I was in here with you,” Heath said.

  Will smirked.

  Heath made a face. “You know what I mean. They don’t have to know I’m half the fighter you are.”

  “If that.”

  “If that,” Heath agreed.

  Will turned his gaze back towards Kelly. “Well, brother, what do we do now?”

  Heath weighed the question a moment. “I guess we got but two options. One, we find the first door and get the hell out of here.”

  “And two?”

  “Since option one probably isn’t going to happen, we win the whole fucking thing.”

  Will bobbed his head. “I don’t know about dropping an f-bomb in front of a lady, but I guess you’re right. And you managed to quote Major League. Well done.”

  “Thank you," Heath said. "What do we do with her?”

  Will sighed and studied her a long moment.

  “I guess we take her with us.”

  “Gee thanks,” Kelly said.

  Both brothers snorted in unison.

  “She’s got spunk,” Heath said.

  “That she does,” Will agreed. “Which way?”

  “I just came from that way,” Kelly said, motioning to her right.

  “And we just came from down there,” Will said.

  “And he was coming from that direction,” Kelly said, pointing up ahead.

  “Left it is.”

  Kelly positioned herself between them. In a row, they set off down the earthen path.

  Sixty-One

  Things were on track for the moment, but had the potential to unravel. Fast.

  The room did not seem to mind what had happened to Toulson. A few had even cheered for the Honeycutt’s and made token wagers on them. For the moment, everyone was okay with where things stood.

  Winston intended to keep it that way.

  The fake smile was affixed as Winston made his way to the podium. A few people watched as he approached. Many conversed amongst themselves or watched various televisions around the room. Several hours of eating were now behind them. Cigars and cocktails were beginning to sprout up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention for just one moment!”

  The room quieted down. Winston drew up the screen with the images of all twelve fighters.

  “As you all just witnessed, we are down another fighter here this evening.”

  With the press of a button, another large X crossed Toulson from the screen.

  “I mentioned earlier that we had allowed the presence of a second Honeycutt. Given the unique circumstances surrounding their inclusion, we felt it the sporting thing to do. To them, and more important, to all of you.”

  He paused, surveying the room for any sign of response. There was none.

  “However, as we have just seen, the Honeycutt’s are more-than-capable participants here tonight. As such, we shall be separating them before they compete again.”

  Around the room a hushed murmur arose. Many people exchanged glances, a few nodded their heads.

  The smile returned to Winston’s face. He pulled the schematic back up to the screen and studied it for just a moment. He soon found what he was looking for and brought it up to the screen.

  A murmur went up through the crowd as Winston retreated back to his seat.
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  Sixty-Two

  “What the hell is going on?!” Manus drew his Glock 23. He gripped it with both hands and pushed forward.

  Smoke continued to billow through the hallway. Thick black plumes that rolled forward, one after the other.

  Staying low in a crouch, he cast a quick look into each room as they passed. Behind him he could feel Nixon on his hip. “Stone! What the hell is going on?”

  “Situation is secure, sir.”

  The voice was no more than a couple feet away. Manus jerked towards it and raised his weapon.

  Stone stepped forward a couple of steps, the outline of his shoulders forming a silhouette through the smoke. “Stand down, sir. Situation is secure.”

  Manus blinked a couple of times before the words set in. He lowered the weapon and returned it to his hip. “We heard shooting. What the hell happened?”

  Stone turned his head to the side and barked, “Reilly! Door!”

  A cool rush of air washed over Manus as the front door was opened. The fresh air flushed most of the smoke from the room.

  As the air cleared, Manus could see three bodies lying on the tile floor. Blood leaked from each their heads. It ran together into a bright red puddle that was already starting to congeal.

  “The guards?” Manus asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “We found something we shouldn’t. They tried to make a push and overpower us. We had no choice.”

  Manus looked at the men lying there. The image of Kelly entered his mind. “I understand.”

  “What’s with the smoke?” Nixon asked. “And shouldn’t there be sprinklers or something to clear it out by now?”

  Stone raised his hand and motioned with his fingers for them to follow. “We found a fail safe.”

  “A what? Where?” Manus asked.

  Stone led them into a tiny room just past the reception counter. In the corner stood a small photocopier. From the wall hung a rack of employee mailboxes.

  Both were stained black with soot.

  A rug was wadded into a ball just inside the doorway. In the middle of the room, a heavy metal latch door had been swung open. A thin stream of grey smoke continued to rise from it.