by David Bruns
“I say no to whomever I damned well please. Now, hand it over or I walk.”
“Fine,” grumbled the fat man. He felt around the numerous pockets of his heavy coat.
“Payment is one hundred thousand credits,” Codeine reminded him. “Half up front. Half on fulfillment.”
“Right.”
“This would be the up-front part.”
“Check your account.”
Codeine dialed it up. Sure enough, he was fifty thousand credits richer.
“All good?” Barstow leered as he handed Codeine a personal access data device.
In answer, the bounty hunter took the PADD. Flipping it around, he swiped his thumb across the access button, half expecting Barstow to have to unlock it for him.
Identity confirmed, the readout showed. Access granted.
It was already coded to him? That gave Codeine a moment’s pause. So, his client wasn’t any guttersnipe gunrunner, no colony black marketeer. Whoever they were, they could afford to throw away credits on impressive encryption. And they knew enough about him to have bio-tailored the device to him ahead of time. He was about to ask Barstow who their mutual employer was when a shadow fell across the table.
“One asshole,” said the waitress with emphasis. It wasn’t clear if she referred to the drink. “And here’s your drink, sir,” she said, nodding to Codeine. “And sir?”
“Yes?”
“You asked me to let you know if any badgers showed up.” She edged to her left by a foot or so. And there they were, talking to the bartender. Two military police with the newly minted IDF insignia displayed on their arms. The bartender was nodding as they asked him questions.
Never a good sign, thought Codeine. “Thanks,” he said, producing two gold sovereigns from his pocket. Her eyes went wide. “These’ll cover things, right?”
She stared at the United Earth Federation symbol on the back of the coins. Even in the Crater’s dim light, she could see the old-fashioned gold eagles glittering yellow. Handheld money was rare in an age of digital transactions. And hundred-credit sovereigns were stories-after-work worthy.
“I—I can have Joe credit you the difference, I suppose—”
“Keep it. Call it an asshole handling fee,” Codeine said, dipping his head at Barstow. The fat man sneered, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was none too subtly eyeing the MPs over his shoulder. “What’s your name again?”
“Wanda.” She smiled, and her eyes softened from courteous to inviting.
He’d seen the look before, the one wondering whether or not he’d still be around when she got off shift. No time for that now, he reminded himself.
“Wanda, I’d suggest you take a break for a few minutes.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, but I can’t. I’ll get fired.” Her server’s smile became a wicked grin. “But, um, I might be able to get off early—”
“Take a break. Now. And do it away from here,” said Codeine. His eyes flicked at the restrooms in the back.
Wanda held his gaze a moment, but what she found there seemed to chase away the hope for a hookup. “Um, okay then. Sure.” She backed up from the table and headed for the restrooms at the back of the bar.
“They follow you here?” asked Codeine, shooting the last whiskey.
Barstow took a long draw on his A-hole. “Impossible. They can’t—”
Codeine shushed him. The two MPs had finished up with the bartender. One of them stepped out among the tables, eyes scanning the patrons.
Codeine dropped his hand to his thigh and loosened his .45 blaster in its leather holster. The MPs were taking their time asking questions, so he thumbed the PADD again. Its display spun up. A dull, green glow lit up his face, framing it sickly in the shadows. His eyes traced the client’s request. Two simple sentences. Instructions. The second line forced an eyebrow up his forehead. With a smile, he looked toward the door in the back where the waitress had disappeared.
“Yeah, she’s a piece, ain’t she?” said Barstow. His swollen face jiggled, his eyes flashing with fantasies.
Codeine ignored him. The soldiers were headed their way. He propped his feet up on a corner of the table, executive style, and tucked the PADD inside his jacket.
“You gentlemen locals?” asked the first MP as he walked up. He was an officer, the senior of the two both in rank and age. The younger man, a foot soldier, hung back playing bodyguard, one hand poised on his sidearm.
“No,” said Codeine. It’d been a stupid question. No one was a local at Lunar Base.
“Where you from, then?”
“Mars,” said Codeine.
“Oh, yeah?” The officer sidled up behind Barstow. The fat man’s eyes moved nervously from side to side trying to see around his own head. “I have a sister lives on Mars. Athena Colony. Ever been there?”
The bounty hunter blinked. “There’s no Athena Colony on Mars.”
“What?” The grayhair waved his hand at the noise, a gesture that apologized for having old ears.
Codeine leaned forward and caught another whiff of Barstow’s sweaty cologne. “There’s no Athena Colony on Mars.”
“Oh, yeah? I must be thinking about one of the other planets. Macedonia, maybe.”
“Must be.” The hunter dropped his hand below the table as the bodyguard moved farther to the officer’s left, opening a second line of fire.
“Why don’t you bring your hand back up where I can see it?” asked the older man without even glancing down. “My young friend here gets nervous in places like this. All the noise and booze and women.” He laughed a these-kids-today sound.
“Sure thing,” said Codeine. He met Barstow’s eyes. They were wide with the fright of a man who knows death is standing right behind him and he dare not turn around.
“Now,” said the officer. He wasn’t laughing anymore.
Codeine pulled the trigger with his sidearm still in the holster, and a .45 slug took the soldier in the upper thigh. As the officer pulled his piece, the hunter stood quickly, flipping the table over. Barstow tumbled backward into the older MP, whose shot went wild. Codeine fired a second time, plugging the wounded soldier in the gut. He fell lifeless to the barroom floor.
The hunter ducked and turned, a second shot from the officer whistling past his head. The crowd was screaming and diving under tables, the minor-keyed synth music screeching all around them. Codeine rolled the table aside and turned his barrel on the grayhair.
Two sharp reports finally gave a downbeat to the jazz. The bullets punched the officer backward. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Codeine scanned the room. Frightened customers, down low with their hands over their heads. The bartender nowhere to be seen, probably below the bar.
Barstow rolled around on the floor, struggling to get to his feet. “Holy shit!” he said between labored breaths. “No wonder they wanted you!”
Codeine leveled his .45 at the fat man’s chest and fired.
A stunned look at first, then pain ripped across Barstow’s face. “God, it hurts,” he said. And after a long, wheezing moment, he cried louder, “It hurts!” His knees buckled, and he crashed into the table behind him. Cowering patrons scrambled away from his dying bulk.
The hunter moved forward. The breathless Barstow’s stare widened helplessly, hopelessly as Codeine approached.
“God, it hurts,” the fat man gasped. “I’m on your side! Please don’t—”
A shot, and a third eye weeping blood opened wide on the fat man’s forehead. Barstow ceased his complaints about the pain of dying.
“You’re welcome,” said Codeine. The music had stopped, he noticed. Maybe someone kicked a plug out of the wall in their haste to stay alive.
So, things were looking up.
“It was just business, Fats.” Codeine stepped over Barstow’s corpse. But that wasn’t quite all there was to it. He liked the waitress, and he hadn’t liked the fat man much. So—there was the silver lining in this very public shitshow.
With the
IDF now sniffing close on his trail, it was time to beat feet. He angled after Wanda, heading for the Crater’s backdoor and repeating the client’s instructions in his head. Those two small sentences worth a hundred thousand credits.
Kill IDF Captain Samantha Avery. Shoot the messenger.
Half the contract already fulfilled. Half his compensation already in the bank.
Time to beat feet. Time to find this Avery woman and finish the job.
***
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Table of Contents
Contents
Title Page
Other Books by David Bruns
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
A Word from the Author
Avenger - Chapter 1