by Chris Martin
Neither of us had eaten anything for over ten hours and my stomach was letting me know that it was way past time to get some grub. There was nothing I could do about it, though, so I tried to take my mind off of it by putting an unlit butt in my mouth.
Holly led the way to the basement, where we descended the stairs. It was pitch black, but Holly whispered that there were no windows in the basement, so I could use my lighter. I flicked on my Zippo, illuminating the small area. It wasn’t much to look at, but it looked safe. In one corner stood a cellar door that Holly said led to an escape tunnel that would deposit us outside the boundaries of the estate.
I settled down on a square of dry dirt and lit up my dangling smoke. I lit up another one and handed it to Holly, who took in a deep drag.
“All right,” I said. “We’ve got till dawn to figure out something to do. We’d better get started.”
The first thing I had to do was dig the slug out of my arm. It wasn’t going to be easy. I doubted that Holly had the skill to do it without either passing out or causing me some extreme pain. That was okay, though. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d dug a bullet out of myself.
I took out my pocketknife and set to work. The bullet was pretty deep, and the pain was excruciating, but after ten minutes of sweat and tears, I got it out. After another ten minutes, the bleeding had slowed to a slow ooze and I was ready with a plan.
“Alright. First thing that we have to do is change our identities. You’ll have to cut and dye your hair and get a completely different look, fashion-wise. I’ll shave my head and my mug and get some lifts for my shoes. That’ll be enough to fool ‘em for a while, but it won’t take long if they look real hard. Then I want you to tell me all about Moore and the six families -- everything you know. We’ve got to act fast. Are lives aren’t worth a cup of joe right now.”
Holly sat, considering my plan for a moment. “That’ll be fine for a few days, but what do we do in the long run?”
I looked deep into her eyes. I wanted her to understand that I wasn’t joking, and I wanted to see her expression. I had to know that she was with me all the way.
“We’ve only got one way out of this, Holly. We’re going to have to take out Adrian Moore.”
-3-
We only got to catch a few hours sleep. I wanted to be sure to get out before dawn. We had to get to the store to buy some scissors, some hair dye, and some cheap clothes. I also wanted to ditch my heap and pick up some new wheels.
An hour before the sun was scheduled to rise, we made our way out of the guest house, under the fence, and to my car. After removing the camouflage, we headed for a grocery store just out of town. After buying our supplies, we gave each other our new looks. The change was remarkable. Gone was Holly’s long blond hair, replaced with a dark brown, close cropped style. With a good pair of glasses and the fashionless clothes that I’d picked out for her, she’d be hard to recognize even if Moore was picking her out of a police line-up. I looked all right, too. My look was a lot less important, since Moore’s men only had a vague description of me to begin with. I’d be virtually unrecognizable with my new look. I didn’t mind the chrome dome so much. I just hoped it all grew back when this was all over. My hair was one of the only things I had left. I wasn’t much to look at. I’d gotten in a few too many scrapes, leaving my face far from handsome. I was pretty well built, though. In my line of work, I had to be. At six foot three I was fairly tall, but I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t stick out that much. Just another ugly nobody roaming the streets.
I’d boosted enough cars in my time to be considered an expert at it. Within three minutes we were on the road in a newer model Honda Accord. There were plenty of those wrecks taking up space on the streets. I couldn’t pick a better car to get lost in.
While we drove over to my rattrap apartment Holly filled me in on the six families. I got everything. Names, locations, emergency procedures. Everything. Holly and I decided that we’d take out the family in Chinatown first. They, along with the Russians would be the toughest to beat, so we wanted to use our element of surprise to its fullest. The only drawback was that it would require some major fire power.
Which is where the stopover at my place came in. I had an armory in there. I pulled up two blocks away from my dump. I checked my gun and found it fully loaded, while Holly did the same with the .38. We got out of the Honda and walked casually down the two blocks. Outside my place, we surveyed the area. Nothing suspicious. I didn’t think that they’d figure out who I was or where I lived, but with Adrian Moore you didn’t take chances.
And it was a good idea too. When I got to my door, I found it torn off its hinges. I took my piece out of my waistband and loaded the chamber. I motioned to Holly to stay outside and guard the door while I went in and secured the premises. The place was in a shocking state of disarray. The furniture had been ripped open, with its stuffing strewn about the room. Everything from the shelves lay in a giant heap on the floor. The refrigerator had been ripped out of its place, and the contents dumped. My place looked like an even bigger shithole than it had when I'd left it less than twenty-four hours earlier.
When I was sure that there was nobody left inside, I called for Holly to join me. She let out a little gasp, but took it in stride. “How did they find out who you were, Blast?”
“I don’t know. Your husband’s a powerful guy. Very little escapes his notice,” I told her.
I took her back to the bedroom, where things were in a similar state. I ripped up a corner of the carpet and was relieved to see they hadn’t discovered my secret cache. I dialed the combination and opened the vault.
The vault itself was big. I climbed down a ladder and entered the seven by seven foot room. Holly followed me down. I could tell she was impressed with my little armory. I grabbed a couple of the big duffel bags in the corner and started loading them with guns, ammo, and explosives. I grabbed a couple of .45s, a couple of sniper rifles, four Uzis, a box of hand grenades, some claymores, and some plastique explosive. I tossed a handful of detonators into the bag and zipped it up. In the second bag I included a pair of night vision goggles, two infrared scopes, a high tech listening device, a couple of flashlights, and a small handful of tracers.
I zipped up the second bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“All right. That should do it for now.”
“What next?” she asked.
“First things first. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
I took her to my favorite greasy spoon. Between the two of us we ordered half the menu. After wolfing down a ham and cheese omelet, a stack of hot cakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast, and some o.j., I felt a helluva lot better. I lit up a cigarette as Holly finished up the last of her poached eggs and French toast.
“So, what is it that you do, Blast?” she asked.
Normally I don’t like to talk about myself. For one thing, I don’t have many friends, and for another, it’s dangerous for people to know too much about me. But Holly was different. The odds were that we weren’t going to make it out of this mess. There was no harm in telling her.
“I do odd jobs,” I began. “If the price is right, I’ll do it.”
“So what are you, like a soldier of fortune or a mercenary or something?”
“Or something. I don’t fight wars or do hits or anything. Mostly covert stuff that the government can’t get involved with. A lot of international crap. More and more corporate bullshit. Take, for instance, the assignment that I just finished up.”
I took another drag off my cigarette.
“About two weeks ago I got a call from a senator in Washington. I do a lot of work for the government. I was involved in the CIA’s MK-ULTRA operation six years ago, so a lot of the higher ups have my name and number. Anyway, this senator holds a sizable portion of a certain tech company. I broke in and stole some specs for some new doohickey they're working on and leaked it to a couple of tech sites. No killing, no action. Now it's just
rich assholes fucking with each other.”
“So you're basically a common thief,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. I couldn’t blame her.
“I do what I have to do depending on the situation. But yeah. This is the most action I've seen in over a year. You ask why I got myself involved. I guess that's as good an answer as any.”
“So what did you do before the CIA?” she asked me, softening her tone a little.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember a damn thing of my life before the CIA. The MK-ULTRA project involved mind control. I was just a guinea pig. They scrambled my brains good. I don’t even know what my real name is. I took the Steve Blast tag after the tech thing. I take a new moniker after every assignment.”
I hate it when people feel pity or sorrow for me. And I could see in her gorgeous green eyes that that was what she was feeling right then. “Don’t shed any tears over me, doll. I don’t. That’s just the way things worked out. It’s all I can remember ever knowing, so I don’t know any better. I accept it.”
“You’re right,” she said, hardening up again. “Lots of folks have got it rough. At least you’ve got a skill.”
I smiled at that. “Yeah. I guess so. And I get to travel, too.”
We both laughed over that one. It felt good. With all that had gone down over the past eighteen hours, the laughs were few and far between.
“So that’s my story. How about you?” I asked.
“I already told you. The old hooker with a heart of gold story.”
“Nah. I don’t buy it. I know people too well. Something just doesn’t add up. I think we’re a lot alike, sister. We do what we have to do to get by. You’ve just set your sights a lot higher than mine.”
“I guess you’re right in a way.”
“And the way you handled yourself back at the airport was pretty impressive. You’ve killed people before, haven’t you?”
“Since we’re sharing secrets, I guess I can tell you. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to turn me over to the cops. Yeah, I’ve killed a couple people. But only when it was either me or them. Never in cold blood.”
“Who were they? Johns?”
“One of ‘em. The other one was just some guy. Adrian wanted to test my loyalty and had caught a traitor in his organization. Some stoolie. He made me kill the rat. I mean, if I hadn’t, Adrian just would have killed him -- and me too. But I didn’t really mind anyway. I’ve got no love for rats.”
She was a tough dame. But at her core, I didn’t think she was really bad. She was just in a bad situation. Any situation where you’re forced to kill somebody is bad, no matter what the reasons. She was a survivor though. For the first time I began to think that we might just stand a chance. No matter how slim it was, a chance is still a chance.
I pulled another butt from my pack. The last one. I crumpled the pack in my hand and tossed it onto the table. I caught a glimpse of Holly and offered her my smoke. She took it with a “Thanks” and I lit it for her.
“I’m going to go buy another pack,” I said. I slid out of the booth and walked up to the counter. The cashier pointed out the cigarette machine way back by the bathrooms. He changed my fin and I walked back to the machines.
When I got back to the booth, Holly looked nervous. Even with the short brown hair, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Yeah, I'm a government-trained assassin, but I've still been known to go all goofy for a Betty just like the next sucker.
“What’s up?” I asked as I sat down and lit a butt.
“Three of Adrian’s men just walked in and took the corner booth.”
I held up my Zippo and took a look in the reflection. I should have seen them sooner. Three well-dressed hoods.
“Did they see you?”
“They looked at everybody as they walked through. The disguise must have fooled them,” she said.
“For the time being. Let’s get out of here.”
I took out my wallet and threw some bills on the table. We walked out of the greasy spoon with no problem. One of the hoods looked up as we left, but stayed seated, looking over his menu and jawing with his pals.
We climbed into the Accord and got moving. I steered the car in the direction of Chinatown.
“We got lucky there,” I told her. “It’s no coincidence that Adrian’s boys were in my neighborhood. They must be watching my flop house.”
“At least our disguises fooled them,” Holly said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“They won’t for long, though. But that’s okay. Our bellies are full and we’ve got plenty of fire power. It’s time to pay the Chinese a little visit.”
-4-
It was approaching noon by the time we had made our way to Chinatown. The Chinese family that Adrian Moore “controlled” was a powerful tong that made its headquarters in a dazzling pagoda in the center of the district. I’d never been to Chinatown before, but Holly knew exactly where to go and had details on which entrance was the best one to begin our assault. I emptied one of the duffel bags and refilled it with the items I’d need for the operation. I packed a shitload of loaded clips, a dozen grenades, about a fifth of the plastique explosive, and a half dozen detonators. I took two of the .45s and stuck them in the back of my waistband. I got out of the car and grabbed two of the Uzis. Holly joined me with one Uzi, a .45 and her .38.
“All right, Holly. This is it,” I said, psyching myself up.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
“Make everything alive in there dead,” I told her and kicked open the front door.
The door opened up into a reception area. I glanced around and located five armed guards dispersed throughout the room, two women behind a large desk, and another armed guard behind the desk. There were cameras everywhere. I shouted to Holly to take out the surveillance equipment and I begin firing off rounds.
I took out the five perimeter guards first. Three bursts out of the Uzi in my right hand and two out of the one in my left killed all five with head shots. I instinctively dropped to my knees, narrowly avoiding a .38 that whizzed inches over my head. I pumped a half dozen rounds into the guard behind the desk, and his skull emptied its contents all over the two secretaries. I let the Uzis drop from my hands, swinging by the straps around my shoulders as I reached behind me and grabbed my pair of .45s. I fired a round each into the secretaries’ temples before they had time to realize that they should've already started screaming.
I checked on Holly’s progress and found that she had done her job expertly. Every camera that I could see was now nothing more than a smoking mess of wires and metal. All in all, not bad. Eight dead and surveillance neutralized in just under one minute.
Things were about to get a lot tougher, though. Surely, the whole facility had been alerted to our presence. Holly pointed in the direction of the stairs with the muzzle of her Uzi and I started to make my way over there. When I got to the stairs, I knelt with my back to the wall and emptied the rest of one of my Uzis around the corner, up the staircase. I quickly reloaded both SMGs before turning the corner. I’d gotten six more hostiles with that burst. One of them was still alive, so I ended his misery with the serrated blade of my hunting knife.
Holly had told me on the way over in the car that at the top of the stairs was the working headquarters of the Chinese mob. Once you entered through the unassuming double doors, you found yourself in a huge hall. Each side of the wall had two doors, spaced evenly apart, with a fifth door which was the obvious place for the big boys to be holed up. But Holly had told me otherwise. I expected most of the resistance to come as we tried to cross the massive hall to the inner sanctum. I wasn’t disappointed.
They were waiting for us. It’s hard to tell exactly how many there were, but I’d guess at least fifty, if not a hundred. I tossed a couple of the frag grenades in and waited on the stairs till they exploded. The grenades had taken out a good percentage of the Chinese. There were quite a few dead, and even more dying slowly from shrapnel wounds.
I didn't want to waste ammo on them, but I also didn't want to get shot in the head by some bastard that I should've killed the first time around.
The remaining Chinese weren’t a piece of cake, but I had honestly expected more. Holly and I managed to take them down to a manageable number and avoid getting ourselves shot. I provided some cover fire and managed to get in some merciful clean-up as we made our way across the great hall to the inner sanctum.
I’d heard quite a bit about Chow Li Woo. He was a merciless mob boss who had been the most reluctant to cede any control to Adrian Moore. It had been a bitter and bloody battle , but in the end, Adrian had five other families to draw support from, while Woo was all alone. He gave Adrian one hell of a fight and he ran the most feared mob in the city. This was not somebody I would normally want to fuck with.
He was surrounded by half a dozen lieutenants, all heavily armed. Holly and I were drawing some pretty heavy fire from inside and outside the inner sanctum. I knew that the only was to survive this was to let the MK-ULTRA training take over. I let the psychopathological killer out.
When I get in that state, it’s almost like a trance. I’m almost literally a machine (hell, parts of me literally are). Back in the CIA, the men who comprised the MK-ULTRA program called it the Kill Zone. Usually I can’t remember anything that occurs while in the Kill Zone. The CIA spooks had designed it that way on purpose. The less we remembered, the more effective killing machines we were.
When I came out of this trance, I was knee deep in blood and guts. The room looked like a slasher movie special effect gone berserk. Holly was staring at me in horror, but I brushed it off. This was no time for apologies or explanations. I grabbed the plastique and the detonators from the duffel bag and began planting them around the facility. Within fifteen minutes, everything was done. The entire operation had taken less than twenty minutes.