When Graveyards Yawn ta-1

by G. Wells Taylor

  "You're not going to try to pass for a long lost cousin, are you, Mr. Adrian?" I asked him where he stood smiling in deep pile ivory carpet between two tall gentlemen with machine guns.

  Chapter 57

  My mouth was bleeding. I hadn't expected that one. Adrian had reached out and decked me. He had a good solid fist that I would respect next time it was thrown at me. I was dragged into the penthouse and thrown roughly onto a black leather couch. The gunmen took up positions behind it; their weapons ready-occasionally nudging my shoulders with the barrels. Adrian sauntered over to a long chromium and glass bar that ran the length of one wall. He reached over, grabbed a towel, used it to wipe my blood and makeup off his fist then threw it at me. I pressed it against my lips and counted teeth. One on the top felt loose, but I still had a mouthful. My winning smile remained intact. Strange, the things one thinks about before the hangman comes.

  "Let's not draw this out, Wildclown." Adrian used his commanding voice from where he mixed a pair of drinks behind the bar. To his left, the penthouse opened onto a large games room containing the requisite pool and poker tables and dartboards. A wall bearing three dark doors ran the length of that. Various paintings, either original or copies of the masters hung on the plain beige walls.

  "Sorry about your boys…" I mumbled behind the towel referring to Pigface and the Monkey twins.

  His brow furrowed. "Oh, Jacky and the others! They were well paid." He carried the drinks over, set one in front of me, and then sat on the chair opposite with his. He looked elegant in his dark green, wool suit and red tie. But there was something different about him. He still retained his aura of power, but the red in the tie spoke of a ferocity that had been unleashed. Adrian managed to look casual but couldn't hide a primitive desperation in his mien. He crossed his legs-the mannered pose belied the carnal viciousness in his movements. His suit went well with the easy chair he had chosen-it was gray, the color of my future.

  "You knew your secretary was working for the Twelve Stars…" I said slowly, my jaw still numb.

  "I knew that, yes." Adrian smiled. "Though I don't think she intended to become a spy for them. I believe her involvement with them began as a fad. It was just her bad luck that she tried to be a good little trooper for them. Her line was tapped, had been from the start. Not for any particular suspicion on my part, I just think it's good policy…one has to keep ahead of the competition."

  "For someone who's ahead of the competition, you're starting to look like someone who lost the race."

  "What do you mean?" His eyes flashed fire. I saw my incisor print on his fist whiten.

  "You're not in control of the situation. You faked your own death." I tasted my drink. My lip throbbed immediately. I took another drink.

  "After you visited-I realized that the timeframe for my original plan had become slightly truncated." He sighed, "In plain English-I needed to buy myself some time, which was unfortunate for my secretary." He drank, then made a motion to one of the men behind me. A cigarette flipped through the air. Adrian caught it.

  "That was her on the highway…" I worked a hunch.

  "Yes, she donated the majority of the flesh. I provided several liters of blood that I had stored for emergencies, operations and so forth. Oh yes, and some hair and nail clippings so they could positively identify me. One trip to the landfill netted plenty of male body parts to put in the blender after certain distinctive organs were removed from her anatomy. Authority is notorious for its failure to pay attention to detail, so I didn't expect they would discover my ruse. Most bodies, especially one treated as roughly as that was, are sent to the landfill as soon as the coroner signs the death certificate. It is a violent world we live in. Death is cheap these days. And, Authority expected to find my body sometime. They were willing to believe it was me." He smiled grimly. "How did you know I was still alive?"

  I rubbed at my face. "Call it a hunch. I know that must be frustrating to you, and that may very well be why I say it." I watched Adrian's face. "I remembered the security at Simpson's, for one. I found it very difficult to believe that anyone could get to you that easily. The impressive nature of the buildings might be working against you there. I bought it at first, then I began to count bodies. Your dying at that time when you had exuded such confidence just didn't fit. I realized that my showing up at your door must have caused you some concern. If I knew about your method of collecting clients you would realize that it was likely that someone else did too. You figured the game was over, so you moved to Plan B. You disappeared. Maybe that was what put me onto you. At first I thought you were running from Authority, or a mob of angry customers. But, you're too powerful for that. You disappeared for other reasons. I suppose you used that time to construct this new identity? Or, no, you already had it waiting."

  "Yes, I did." Adrian chuckled. "I should not have underestimated you. In a simple disguise-a wig and false moustache-I took an airliner to the old country. It was a deception that worked without my having to bribe anyone. That's what I liked about it."

  "So no one knew you were out of the country. I'll bet you made no secret of returning as Demarus. Sure, you wait it out there. Your cronies chop up your secretary when you give the say so, dump her on the highway with male body parts, a bit of mangled ID, your hair and blood, they give a call to Authority. You return as Demarus, grieving uncle to the poor deceased. What did you look like, a fake nose and beard?"

  "I used some of the technology we employed at Simpson's."

  "Why didn't you just bribe Authority? We both know they don't represent anything resembling real law and order." I watched Adrian for weakness.

  "I was not willing to cut them in. They no longer represent a single powerful entity."

  "Treating the dead is a multi-million dollar business!" I threw in. "They wouldn't be greedy enough to shut you down. You must have been making payoffs already. What's another point?"

  Adrian simply smiled. "It keeps me from being one hundred per cent. There are far too many palms to grease. And as I said, with the internal disintegration of Authority no one was powerful enough to guarantee my safety anymore."

  "So you wanted to shut down. Sure, you've got enough money socked away, and you have something bigger, I'll bet."

  "Then we share a secret, Mr. Wildclown." Adrian butted his cigarette out.

  "The Twelve Stars must have missed her though…your secretary. They had to be dealt with. They have a good deal of pull in Authority." I put the towel down, pulled out a cigarette and lit one. I sensed gun barrels following my movements. "And, they're nuts. They don't do business in the usual way."

  "As I understand Authority, all special interests groups within it work behind the scenes. And the Twelve Stars can't act until they're given orders from their Eternal Fuhrer, or whatever he calls himself." Adrian rose and took up a position by the bar. "They can't openly challenge things-at least they can't openly challenge the combined groups inside Authority-the whole thing works with loosely formed alliances, I'm told. Whoever has something to lose calls in favors, gives out favors or threatens the right people. Oh, I have no doubt that the Twelve Stars were working on the mystery of my disappearance-they were very interested. That's part of the reason for providing them with my body. As for my secretary, we hoped to cover that with a note and some theatrics from Ms. Van Reydner. Jan assumed her identity and made sure she was seen leaving town."

  "To buy time…" I was uncertain. "So Van Reydner returned." I had harbored a secret hope that she had turned against her master. I was such a romantic.

  "Yes, due to the nature of certain recent acquisitions…it became impossible for her to check in at the prearranged time as you and I discussed in my former offices." He smiled. "I might add she helped set you up at the Arizona Hotel." Adrian showed his teeth.

  "You knew I would go, and you made certain that everyone else who was looking for her knew she was there. Then, you sit back and watch your enemies eliminate each other." I took a long drag of my cigarett
e until my lips stung. The pain cleared my mind. "So what did the Twelve Stars want with you? What did your secretary tell them?"

  "Enough." Adrian managed to look wounded. "She started with the inner workings of my organization and ended with your ridiculous accusations."

  The elevator hummed and began to descend. I hoped there would be something in it for me. Adrian stared bullets.

  "Who else did you tell, Mr. Wildclown?" he snarled viciously, then turned to one of his gunmen. "No call from the desk! It must be Authority. Go quick! Get Miles and Stephan in here fast, and armor up. Get the others ready. Tell them to play it cool. You've got two minutes." Adrian pulled his own gun and checked its action, then he looked at me. "Wildclown, regardless of how I play this out. I will win."

  In moments Adrian's palatial penthouse produced two more gunmen. They were just slipping into the final heavy pieces of Authority Enforcer armor. The gunman sent to get them followed doing the same. They turned over a couple of end tables and took up position in a fan shape in front of the elevator. The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.

  Inside, Douglas Willieboy stood to the left of Inspector Cane. Both wore the long black leather of Authority Inspectors. Both had their hands empty, palms out. Both their faces had the strained look of having struck a truce.

  "Don't shoot!" growled Willieboy. "I want to make a deal. We're businessmen, Adrian!"

  Cane spoke up. "We'll offer you twenty million." He licked the fear off his lips.

  Adrian smiled. "Miles, Stephan! Frisk them." As they moved I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. One gunman had returned to his position there, though his attention was on the proceedings.

  In moments, both Cane and Willieboy were stripped to their shirtsleeves. The search had yielded up a pair of handguns. In addition, they found brass knuckles and a lead sap in Cane's pockets. Both Inspectors looked naked and uncertain without their weapons. Still, I had to admit that neither looked scared enough. They had some wild cards.

  "You clusterfuck!" Willieboy exclaimed by way of greeting me.

  "Glad you could make it, asshole!" I said, but fell silent when Adrian speared me with a look.

  "I will stay in charge of these proceedings." He rubbed his palms together. "Gentlemen, I assume you both have something to offer. I cannot think you would approach me empty-handed. I hope Mr. Wildclown's presence does not bother you. He did broker this little meeting after all. Since he has been a thorn in all of our sides for so long it would please me that he should stay. I would like to hear his observations. His contempt is so thinly disguised, equal only to his naivete." Then all humor left him. "And you might want to participate in his punishment."

  "You're the boss!" Willieboy took a cigarette from his pack on the table, and smiled at me around it.

  Cane chewed his toothpick. He pointed a finger at me. "You fucker." He grinned and licked his fat lips. "I should have killed you…"

  "After all the help I gave you." I had a definite urge to see Cane bleed profusely. "I put you onto Adrian in the first place. It was obvious Willieboy knew about him. He told me how to find him. But he kept it from your group. I gave him to you, but you let him slip away."

  "Dogmeat, you're fucking dogmeat…"Cane raised a fist.

  "Please," Adrian interrupted, glancing at Cane. "Now, you offered twenty million. I believe that was dollars. Ludicrously low, but let's call it ante."

  "Hey, hey!" Willieboy spoke up, agitated. "The bidding hasn't started yet."

  "True. But that's what it will cost to enter the game." Adrian finished his drink, and then motioned for one of his men to fix another. He smiled at me, then at Cane. "You gentlemen seem to have a great deal of animosity for each other."

  "Cane introduced me to a friend of his." I frowned at Cane. "How is the Handyman? I hope he's having a tough time adjusting."

  Cane growled and instinctively clenched his right hand.

  Adrian chuckled.

  I turned to glare at him. "I suppose I have you to thank as well, and Ms. Van Reydner. Cane and his bullies were waiting for me at the Arizona Hotel. The Handyman tried to torture information out of me." I smiled at Cane. "I gave him a bit."

  Cane's face lost all emotion and paled. "I should have cut you up myself."

  "Yes, I think you should have. But you missed your chance." I clenched my fists. "I believe Adrian is going to have the honor now."

  "Gentlemen. Let's not turn this into a bar room brawl." Adrian had sauntered behind the bar and poured himself a drink. He took a gulp.

  "I've got a question," I spoke up. "Who killed Alan Cotton first?" I jabbed my chin at Adrian. "You and Van Reydner just stumbled on it, didn't you? You were doing your sick business on Conrad Billings, and you overheard something in the next room."

  Adrian smiled again. "You are a savant!"

  "And you were just lucky. That was all it took. You were there. You shot Cotton, then you stole whatever it was that he was selling, and left before his prospective buyers arrived." I lit a new cigarette. "I think it was Cane who was next. He got there and found Cotton just coming out of Blacktime. Cane represents a concern that very much wanted what he had to sell. Cane gets there, maybe the Handyman's with him, and they work over Cotton really bad. They torture him, and since he was already dead, they had to be extreme. The problem is that Cotton had no idea where his Regenerics Secret was at that point. He died quickly the first time. Isn't that right, Mr. Adrian? So he could only tell Cane that he opened a door and saw a gun barrel. Then Blacktime! But he did tell Cane what his secret was. Am I right? And that's why you decided to turn him into blood pudding. So no one else would ever know."

  "That's a fucking lie, Wildclown!" Cane took a step toward me. "He was already…" But that was all he choked out because Willieboy brought down both his heavy fists on the back of Cane's neck. There was an audible cracking sound, and he dropped on the carpet.

  Guns clicked all around me, barrels pointed at Willieboy. He held his hands up. His voice was shrill. "No, no goddamn it. I thought he was going to take a swing at Wildclown. Don't shoot."

  I knelt by Cane. He wasn't breathing. I felt his neck. It was as loose as a rag doll's. I looked up. "Jesus, Willieboy, remind me to never ask you for a massage." I wiggled Cane's head. "A bit excessive, don't you think?" I wiped my hands on my coat.

  He shook his head turning to Adrian. "Don't worry about Cane. He was small time. The group I'm representing is willing to pay one hundred million dollars for the Regenerics Secret, plus percentages on the gross."

  Just as Adrian's mouth was turning up into a big happy grin, the penthouse roof exploded over the pool table and it started raining Authority Enforcers. The couch around me began to erupt in chunks of bunting and wood. I leapt behind it, grabbed for my gun. I found my guard; I think it was him. His head was missing.

  Chapter 58

  The air was alive with staccato machinegun fire. There were the trademark repetitive chewing booms of Authority auto-shotguns. I glanced around the room, and immediately saw one of Adrian's men, decked out in Enforcer armor shooting from behind a pillar. I was in his line of fire, if he turned it on me, so I had to be sure. I saw a thin pale groove at the base of his neck where the Kevlar and plastic met skin. Gun leveled, I fired at the edge of the mask. There was a simultaneous metallic whine and groan. He slumped over in a heap. I swung around in time to see Adrian dive into a room behind the bar. Two other rooms opened onto the battlefield. Authority bullets were eating up my barricade so I snapped two shots over the couch then ducked and rolled into the room after Adrian. I spun onto my stomach. Willieboy had taken refuge in a room opposite me. He smiled as he barked into a miniature transceiver.

  A foot stamped down on my hand, my gun rattled behind the door. I looked up, and caught Adrian's fist behind the ear. I rolled seeing sparks. Outside, the gun battle raged. Adrian must have had more hired guns in the penthouse because the invasion force was preoccupied. They had expected a massacre and had found the beachhead at Normandy. I
slugged Adrian in the face doing my best to wipe his nose off. Blood burst from it. It was a weak hit because I was fighting from the ground, but it threw him off enough, and the gun he was holding popped once at my left shoulder.

  I felt a slap of pain, then nothing as my arm went numb. I shifted my body onto his gun hand, and slugged Adrian with my right; he kicked at my groin. I caught his foot and knocked him over. His gun flew onto the bed. He toppled into a coffee table and dresser. I was up. We were in an enormous bedroom. It had its own living room. I ran at Adrian, leapt on and off an overstuffed easy chair. My fist caught his chin hard. He buried his knuckles in my guts. We went down, rolled against the bed. Adrian's face glared at me. I glared back.

  "Join me, Wildclown!" he growled angrily, blood spraying from between his teeth. "I have millions. I have the…"

  I threw a fist at his temple. Adrian was no slouch. I suddenly felt his arms turn to steel, then caught two of his punches on the left cheek. My left arm was wood. More sparks flew. My vision jumped. I wrestled one of his arms to his side.

  "Wildclown!" Adrian threw a glance at the door. I noticed the gunfire had become sporadic. A fog of acrid smoke rolled over us. "They'll be in here to get us. We're both dead if they do. I have a way out. Join me. At least don't stop me!"

  "Where's Van Reydner?" I choked as his forearm slid across my throat.

  Suddenly Adrian smiled. He had managed to push my right shoulder under the bed, pinning it. The best my wounded left could do was flail like a landed fish. His forearm suddenly weighed ten tons as he found leverage. He chuckled and whipped his right arm onto the bed. It came back with a gun attached. A dark light filled his eyes.