Haveram knew Carl was obviously the better trained, smarter, and more dangerous of the men Carmody had sent. As soon as he recovered from reflexively protecting his eyes, he would reach for his gun, now perfectly aware that he could never match the speed he’d just witnessed, if he foolishly decided to attempt hand to hand fighting. Haveram needed to accomplish some things in the several seconds before that happened.
He shoved off from the bar so hard to start his movement, that he snapped some of the floor brackets that held it firmly in place. He covered the few feet to the man on his left in a fraction of a second, grabbing his jacket lapels and spun him to place his back towards the other men. He didn’t have the luxury of mercy, with eight armed men facing him. He’d seen Gibson, behind the bar, glance frequently at a place near the center, where there must be some sort of weapon placed there for his use.
Haveram slammed the heel of his right hand into the nose of the man he took out first, driving bone into his frontal lobe. He also kicked him backwards with a hard kick to the solar plexus that cracked bones. The effectively dead man flew backwards, into the next closest blinded man, just two feet behind. Haveram grabbed the back of a chair and slung it across the room at the farthest opponent. Hardly fair, since the target couldn’t see the object flying at him. The tumbling chair was timed to arrive with the spindly strong legs just rotating towards their target. Two of the small floor-glider tipped chair legs stabbed him deeply. One in the gut, the other less deeply in his chest. Not fatal, but he would need a med lab to avoid bleeding to death in half an hour.
Leaping over the first dead man’s body; he had knocked next closest victim off his feet, he kicked that still living “meathead” in the side of his head with the steel tipped toe of his right foot, feeling the unpleasant crunch of bone yielding at the temple. Three down, two dead.
He used his non-kicking left foot to launch himself off the most recent dying target’s beefy shoulder, and as he flew past the next unseeing man, he jabbed the rock hard and stiffened fingers of his right hand into that man’s larynx and trachea, crushing them. This man might possibly survive the damage, if he didn’t suffocate in the next five minutes. He provided another resisting inertial mass to use as a launch point, to reach his next targets.
Four down, and Haveram noted in appreciation of the trained man’s reaction speed, that Carl had recovered from his involuntary flinch. His right hand was reaching inside his jacket towards his left shoulder holster, eyes open and calmly looking at Haveram.
Only halfway across the room, Haveram couldn’t allow the man the time to finish that draw. As he passed him airborne, headfirst and horizontal, he slapped him in the face twice, once on each cheek, but not bone breaking hard. His left hand darted into Carl’s open jacket in passing. His slapping hands had moved far too fast for Carl to react before contact, and he hardly saw Haveram’s action because of the stinging slaps anyway that forced him to blink.
Feeling he had gained a sliver of time, Haveram simply broke the right shoulder of the next thug with an arm twist and knocked him unconscious with an elbow to the side of his head. The last blind man standing had managed to pull his gun before Haveram reached him, and he was starting to wave it towards the sound of activity to his right, ready to shoot at anything he heard. The sounds of cut-off shouts and groans of pain had made him understandably jumpy. He was using thumb and index finger of his left hand to try to lift the left eyelid of that uninjured watering eye in an effort to see.
Haveram intended to let this man live as well, and flashed behind him to knock him unconscious as he disarmed him, when the lucky move ended that attempt at mercy. It also saved Haveram from injury. A good object lesson he’d not forget when thoughts of mercy flickered through his mind the next time. Because he had lost track of the bartender behind the bar.
The blast of the short-barreled shotgun boomed, and a spray of pea sized ceramic pellets traveled in a spreading cone of fifty projectiles. They covered about an eighteen-inch radius when they reached the thankfully thick bodied, muscle bound thug’s chest.
This was a multi-shot weapon, and Gibson, was now aware that his traverse motion as he tried to follow the rapidly moving Smith had inadvertently intersected one of his bosses hired enforcers. He’d be forgiven if he killed the intended man. Pausing to take better aim was a mistake.
Haveram simply reached out to grip the dying man’s right hand and heavy caliber pistol, and helped him avenge his own death. He put his index finger over the thug’s trigger finger, and snapped off a shot that struck the bartender between the eyes, spattering the mirror behind him with brains and bone fragments. Gibson squeezed the trigger reflexively, but the impact had flung him back and he fired into the ceiling.
Spinning around to face the tall man, the body that had shielded Haveram from the shotgun blast slid to the floor. Carl smirked as he completed his reach for his pistol, with Smith fully exposed, and strangely motionless, watching him.
The holster was empty.
“Looking for this burner?” Haveram held the small but high-powered laser pistol he’d taken from the man when he’d smacked him. It was hard to tell if the killer’s face was red only from the smacking, or embarrassment. It definitely was red on both sides, with red handprints starting to show on both cheeks. Haveram decided it was a bit of both.
The neglected Carmody was still on the line. “Kill him Carl, and I’ll give you a percentage of my take. Not just a salary.”
Haveram smiled. “Sounds like a really good offer Carl, but you’d better chose unemployment. However, perhaps boss man should consider his own retirement, or another line of work. I’ll be coming back here on future trips. I think the nicer people in Brisbane could use a break from Carmody Enterprises and your business fees.”
Carmody, feeling safe and remote said, “Smith, I have a couple of hundred more employees. You can’t fight them all, or stop them before they kill you and your crew. I’ll have control of that ship of yours before daylight.”
Without looking away from Carl, Haveram tossed away the burner, and pulled out the heavy caliber slug thrower he’d removed from the first thug he’d killed. Without looking, he swung his left arm up and fired four shots into the bar mirror. Four holes appeared in the shatterproof plastic based mirror, spaced evenly around the “hidden” camera. Then tossed the gun away.
“Carl, you’ve seen what I can do. I’ll tell you that the crew that came here with me is just as good if not better, and faster than I am. Had your boss not been too greedy a son of a bitch, things could have stayed as they were. I’m not law enforcement, and my people have their own disagreements with the Planetary Union government. I was prepared to take a live and let live position concerning the corruption I saw here.
“However, in general we don’t like people like Carmody, or his organization, but expect the local law to handle common criminals. Now he’s crossed us, and made a threat that I can’t ignore. Frankly, I don’t like you either, but I’m not ordinarily a killer, and I needed some information from you so you’re still alive. You can stay that way.
“How about we shake hands, and I let you walk away. I mean away from Brisbane and from working for Carmody. He definitely won’t be in business when I leave here in a few days. You might serve to spread the word that I won’t permit a replacement gang coming in and trying to fill the void here. That camera recorded everything. Keep it as a demo tape.”
“Ah…, you’re very persuasive.” Carl hedged. Looking where the camera was framed by four bullet holes.
“I see you’re worried that a stubborn, ruthless man’s persistence will shorten your life expectancy if you try to quit. Well, that will certainly happen if he stays alive, no matter what you decide to do. You failed him, big time. How about we shake hands on your giving up this life style, and I’ll see that Carmody never bothers anyone again after tonight.”
Carmody warned him. “You take his hand Carl, and you’ll do well to remember why I’m called “Mitch the Swi
tch.”
The two men’s hands met and Haveram asked him, “Where is Carmody? Why’s he called that?”
The Mind Tap image showed him the boss man’s preference to use a slender blade to gut his enemies when they least expected the attack. However, Carl didn’t utter a word. He simply maintained his firm handshake grip.
Haveram repeated the first question. “Where’s his home base?” Again, Carl said nothing; as if ratting out a partner in crime was a line he could not cross. Suddenly, he pulled Haveram towards him, and brought his left hand swiftly up towards the smaller lighter man’s abdomen. It happened in an instant.
The two men separated, with a sad pained look on Haveram’s face. He stepped back from the loyal and dedicated young killer, and turned to face the Tri-Vid camera, blood on his left hand, held low near his belt. “I see you taught him all you knew, you bastard. Including carrying a knife up his sleeve with an auto blade.”
Looking at the camera, he made a promise to the crime lord.
“You have only until I reach you to live.”
The tall man behind Haveram fell backwards, and his body draped limply over a table. A slender handle of a knife protruding from his abdomen. Carmody, watching Carl as he died said, “Well, he failed me again. I’d have done it myself after tonight. You finished him too fast.”
“It’ll be fast for you too Carmody. I don’t enjoy it the way you do, and as he did.”
“Ha. Brisbane’s a big city Smith, or whatever the hell your name is. Do you think you can find me before my men kill you and your crew, and take your ship?”
“I’ll have to start looking under rocks I guess. Or I’ll bet you live in a penthouse in the tallest building in Brisbane, where you look out over your soon to be former domain.” Smiling, he fired a final bullet, directly into the lens of the camera.
The last remark was a bit of misdirection, to leave the man feeling more secure. Carmody’s precise location, an office in the back of a ratty warehouse full of stolen goods, was only two miles from the spaceport. The directions to it were firmly fixed in Haveram’s memory. The images had transferred from Carl’s mind, when he recalled how he’d watched his boss use his own blade on someone in his main office in a similar handshake of betrayal, just the way he had intended to gut his unsuspecting victim tonight.
Haveram checked his thumbnail watch laminate. If I don’t dawdle, he thought, I can terminate Carmody Enterprises, eat a steak while I play some poker, and get one of the casino lady dealers into the sack before daylight.
He rather liked this crude port town.
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