Cold Snap

by J. Clayton Rogers

  Ari nodded, flashing a grin as Lawson pulled himself out. Trying not to be obvious, he adjusted his stride so that Lawson could keep pace with him. Reaching A-Zed's glass door, he shoved.

  "Locked."

  Lawson read off the hours of operation stenciled on the glass. "Too early for lunch."

  Ari pressed his hands against the glass and peered inside. "The lights are on."

  "Maybe they went belly-up."

  "'Belly-up'?"

  "That business you told me about, with them tossing out all their computers. These small operations work on a shoestring. If their clients found out they might drop them, RIP."

  "They would take all of their moveable assets with them when they closed up their shop, don't you think?" asked Ari, his face still cupped in his hands against the glass.

  "Probably," said Lawson.

  "There is a desktop computer still in the front room."

  "Hmmm."

  "And there is a laptop computer with a wire running from it...it's lit up."

  "You mean they're connected?" Lawson grunted. "It's probably nothing. They're uploading or downloading. It just means there's someone there. Go ahead and knock."

  "If there was someone in the room and he saw us approaching on his surveillance camera..."

  "He doesn't want to be seen," Lawson concluded. "It doesn't make sense. They saw us last week. They know we're not bill collectors. You know, if they don't want to be seen, maybe we don't want to be seen, either."

  A shadow moved briefly in the hallway leading to the back rooms, but no face appeared.

  "What will you do if there is violence?" Ari asked.

  "I'll shoot 'em."

  "Even if they only offer their fists?"

  "Hey," Lawson shrugged his arm. "I'm a cripple."

  "Can you handle both your cane and your gun?"

  "You would ask." Lawson pursed his lips. "I guess I'll find out, won't I? You saw someone, didn't you?"

  "I am thinking of shooting at this door," Ari said.

  Lawson tapped at a sticker on the glass.

  "'Protected by Richmond Alarm'," Ari read.

  "The system might not be armed, but if it is, and you break in, the alarm company will get a signal in their central station."

  "And?"

  "And then they call the police."

  Ari nodded. "That explains it, then. I noticed the front of a black and white sticking out from one of the alleys when we pulled up."

  "A police cruiser? Here already? Why the fuck didn't you tell me! Somebody's tripped the alarm ahead of us. Let's haul ass."

  "I would agree," Ari nodded, moving away from the door. "But I want that laptop."

  "Nuh-uh," Lawson shook his head stiffly. "We break in and I walk into the arms of a cop, I'll lose my license."

  "Then let's explain it to the officer."

  "Shit," said Lawson as Ari took off down the sidewalk.

  He was headed for the side street on the opposite side of A-Zed from the alley, where he had seen the young man with the girlish voice getting chewed out royally by Rhee. Little more than a rectangular cube, it stretched a quarter of block before ending at a rear alley, where the parole car was parked. He stopped at the end of the building and began edging slowly around the corner.

  Lawson came up behind him, surprisingly quiet. Ari glanced at him and saw he was holding his breath to keep from gasping loudly. With a palm-down gesture, Ari advised him to breathe...slowly....

  Lawson nodded. Leaning forward, seeing the unoccupied police cruiser, he made a low hissing noise. There was something wrong with this picture. Ari nodded in agreement. He glanced around. There were no cars approaching on the side street, no pedestrians. So far as he could tell, no one was looking out of the narrow windows of the building across the street. Just like Iraq, he thought grimly. Cops show up, people disappear.

  He edged forward again. A peeved but slightly worried voice came from the cruiser.

  "One-one-nine what's your 10-20?"

  Lawson looked through the passenger window at the radio, then made a circular motion with his hand. Whatever Ari had in mind, he'd better hurry. It wouldn't be long before the place was crawling.

  Ari took out his gun but Lawson held off, wanting to use his cane as long as he could.

  Why were the police here? Had someone called? Or were they responding to an alarm? But why would the perimeter alarm be set during work hours? A remote alarm, then? Like a personal panic button? But while a perimeter alarm made sense to detect after-hours intrusion, Ari thought it unlikely Rhee would go to the trouble and expense of installing remotes. During the day, when conducting his own brand of free enterprise, he supplied his own protection: his buff bad boys.

  Service with the Americans in Iraq had made Ari familiar with their hand signals, most of which were commonsensical—but here and there quirks worked their way into the alphabet of silence. Lawson could not employ the full array of signals, but he did what he could and Ari understood. Most importantly, though, he knew the cardinal rules: when stepping into a radical freakzone, keep zipped, pray hard, and try not to fart.

  Ari pointed up at the security camera. They had not seen anyone in the front office, where the monitors were bolted above the door. But there could be a second set of monitors somewhere else in the building, or even off-site. Still, if an observer saw Ari and Lawson sneaking up, they would also have seen the police.

  The back door was closed. There was no window. Standing against the wall, Ari tested the knob. It was locked. Lawson drew up next to him.

  "No other cars," he whispered.

  Ari nodded and pointed at the intersection ahead. "Three garage bays."

  They scooted further along the alley. Reaching the corner, Ari waited until Lawson caught up. Ari pointed at his coat pocket. It was time to pull out his gun. Hooking his cane over his prosthetic arm, Lawson took out his Beretta.

  They stiffened when they heard a garage door open.

  "No...no..." a woman was pleading.

  "Move ahead."

  "I didn't do anything. I don't know anything."

  Not a woman. The young man who had taken the company computers for destruction at Beacon Corner.

  "Move, ya louteh!"

  Ari bent to Lawson's ear and whispered, "I have to greet my countryman."

  Lawson put two-eyes' worth of incredulity into his remaining one. "These guys are Italian?"

  Ari blanched. A stupid mistake. He was given no time to correct the error.

  "Come on around the corner!"

  Ari grimaced.

  "We know you're there! Do it now, or we'll shoot the geek!"

  Lawson let out a low moan. Where were the cops? Had they been shot?

  Ari darted his head around the corner and quickly whipped back. What he had seen was not promising. A man in a ski mask holding a gun to the head of Rhee's nephew, a blue van with the panel door open, a hint of movement to the other side, probably a second gunman waiting to take out Lawson and Ari as soon as they both stepped out.

  "What was that? I hardly saw you! Come on! Tell them, faggot."

  The girlish voice piped out of the bay. "They'll kill me...they aren't kidding—ah!"

  Lawson nudged Ari and cocked his head backwards. Ari nodded comprehendingly. Someone could come out of the back door and ambush them from behind. Ari cursed himself. Why hadn't he enlisted Ben's help for this?

  The answer was simple. He had not expected…this.

  "Do I have to count?" called out the man holding the hostage. "One-two-three, like that? Are you that stupid?"

  "Assalam alaikum," said Ari.

  "Come out now!" the man shouted back.

  "How many men do you have with you?" Ari shouted back.

  "Why would you want to know that?"

  "I want to make sure I have enough bullets."

  "Sir tkaoud—"

  Ari dropped, rolled, fired. He kept rolling until he reached the narrow wall dividing the bays. He thought he heard a shout
, but it was hard to tell because the steady zit-zit-zit of an Uzi echoed in the concrete hollows. Sparks flew up on the blacktop at the garage entrance, ricochets dicing tall weeds against a chain link fence.

  The young man whirred past him, his plentiful faults compensated by an ability to run like an antelope.

  "He's getting away!" yelled a new voice.

  "I'm shot!"

  Lawson suddenly lurched around the corner, exposing himself to the men inside.

  "Get back!" Ari shouted.

  "I can't!"

  "Get down!"

  "Can't!"

  In a moment, one hostage would be replaced by another. His aging bones were already rattled, but there was nothing for it. Shifting position, he rolled back the way he had come, snapping off another shot. There was another shout inside.

  He jumped up to tackle Lawson.

  "No!" he bellowed. "Uzi!"

  But it was too late. They were both falling out of range of the bay.

  "They're getting away!" someone shouted inside.

  "I'm shot! Again!"

  A ripple of bullets burst from up the alley, giving the weeds another cropping. The gunman who had emerged from the back door lowered his gun for another burst. Metal crunched beneath Ari. Lawson told him to get the fuck off.

  "Stop shooting! I have them!"

  The second man from the garage had run out and was looking down at the two men tangled on the tarmac.

  "Quassim!" he yelled. "The faggot is getting away! Hasan is wounded!"

  A new voice emerged.

  "I can't! The download isn't finished!"

  "I'll get the laptop! Go! We have to have him!"

  Ari twisted awkwardly and looked at the Uzi being pointed at him, then at the man holding it.

  "Why Mohammed, you've shaved. God will punish you."

  The gunman was wearing a ski mask. His eyes sparked with puzzled apprehension.

  "I still have my beard, under this. How do you—"

  "Freeze!"

  Everyone whirled to look down the alley. Two cops were running up. Two bags of doughnuts flew in the air as they drew their guns.

  The gunman from the back door did not hesitate. He shifted his Uzi and opened fire. The cops were just quick enough to duck behind the cruiser. They had cover. The shooter did not. When they returned fire he had second thoughts about his position and dove back inside the building.

  Sayid Mohammed Al-Rafa'ee had edged back, out of the cops' line of fire. He began to lower his Uzi when he saw Lawson pointing his gun up between Ari's arm and chest. Ari shifted as Lawson fired. Mohammed howled and dropped back.

  Quassim was halfway up the side alley in pursuit of the Korean. Hearing the shout, he turned, swore, then began running back towards the bays.

  "Goddammit, I had a headshot on him!" Lawson.

  Ari finished rolling off Lawson and from a seated position took aim at the young Korean's pursuer, who jumped out of sight into the first bay, which someone was opening from inside.

  A bullet chipped the wall next to them.

  "The police are shooting at us!"

  "What's new?" Lawson extended his hand. "Quick!"

  Ari grabbed and pulled.

  "You're too heavy."

  "Then drag me!"

  Ari pulled him out of range, then let go and turned to the bay, gun raised. There were no walls between the bays. He saw the chaser scurrying towards a hall door and took aim. The chaser took cover behind a car lift. He did not appear to be armed.

  The man Ari had shot twice was on his knees next to the van. He was shivering. He was praying. Ari went up to him and planted his gun barrel against his head.

  "Ari!" Lawson shouted. He had grabbed the edge of a work bench and was working himself up.

  "He's a pig," Ari said.

  "You shoot every pig you meet?"

  Ari leaned down. "Is this Hasan behind the mask? Let me lift it off and see. Ah! Hasan Al-Jamil! Have you been making more human bonfires?"

  "How do you know..." The wounded man's eyes were closed. Ari noted that he had winged both of his shoulders, and took a second to admire the symmetry. A nice, round hole in the center would complete the artwork.

  "You took the trouble of filming your atrocity in Nineveh," said Ari. "You even removed your mask for the camera. That was very helpful."

  "Please..."

  "Behave and I won't waste a bullet."

  "No...I mean, please don't stop us," Hasan gasped. "This has to be done. You don't understand what you're doing."

  "I understand what I'm doing, little fool. I just don't understand what you're doing. I'm sure to find out once I begin sticking my filthy fingers in your wounds."

  Hasan gagged at the thought if it.

  Ari looked to his left. A blood trail showed the man Lawson had shot had fled towards the front of the building. He glanced to his right. The chaser was still rigid behind the car lift.

  Gunfire erupted inside the building. The acoustic signatures were unmistakable. The cops had entered the back door to duke it out with the Uzi. Ari looked at Lawson, who was now on his feet.

  "Who are these people?" Lawson gasped.

  "I have no idea."

  "But you know them—" There was another burst of gunfire on the other side of the wall.

  Ari had thought he knew who he was dealing with, but the fourth shooter perturbed him. Could it be the unseen cameraman?

  "Why aren't the cops waiting for backup?" Lawson hissed fretfully.

  "Maybe they think they can save someone's life," Ari suggested.

  "Or maybe they're just pissed off. Never come between a cop and his Krispy Kremes."

  Annoyed, Ari punched the wounded man in the shoulder. Hasan screamed in agony and fell sideways. Turning fast, he saw the chaser peeking out from behind the lift. He fired a shot his way to keep him honest.

  "Come!" he urged Lawson. "We have to get that laptop!"

  "Why?"

  "We run through the hall to the front office, get the computer and escape through the front door."

  The wall adjoining the garage suddenly shook, as though someone was using a hypersonic nail gun.

  "No wonder my men didn't want to fuck with A-Zed," said Lawson, but he followed. Without the use of his cane, his speed was cut in half.

  Ari always hated poking his head through a door when there was a possibility of getting it shot off, but in the absence of a mirror there was not much else he could do. He leaned forward, pulled back, then leaned forward again. The gunfire was very close, but he saw no one. From the way the shots echoed, he guessed the fight was taking place in a large storage area. Lawson came up and they exchanged nods. He took two steps and stopped. At the far end of the hallway straight ahead was an Exit sign. At the end of the shorter hallway to his right was another Exit sign. Coming from a country where there were very few exit signs, he found this a little perplexing. You either had somewhere to run, or you didn't. Lawson tapped his shoulder and aimed his gun ahead. Ari pointed at the blood trail leading in the same direction. Mouthing the word 'laptop', Lawson shrugged.

  Either you want the damn thing or you don't.

  Ari most certainly did.

  Judging from the blood trail, Mohammed was not bleeding enough to suit him. He probably still had plenty of fight in him. And one burst from an Uzi down this narrow corridor would unquestionably finish the careers of the two men furtively moving towards the front.

  The gunfire, now behind them, did not slacken. No one was scoring any points. The man with the Uzi had sense enough to fire short bursts, conserving ammo. The cops were firing blind, having sense enough not to expose themselves to a full blast. When good sense won, Ari thought, no one got hurt. It also resulted in no one getting anywhere. All to the good, so far as he was concerned.

  A door slammed. Ari grabbed the nearest doorknob and turned. Pointing Lawson into an office, he quickly followed him inside, leaving a sliver of a crack to look out.

  Lawson made a low noise and Ari tu
rned. Rhee and his two bad boys were bound to chairs. The bad boys were either dead or unconscious. Rhee was staring at them dreamily.

  "Mr. Ugly and the waegukin," he slurred.

  "Untie him," said Lawson.

  "No, get his wallet," Ari whispered, nodding at Rhee.

  "You're kidding—"

  "You're a thief. Be a thief."

  Lawson's eye widened. He went over to Rhee and began digging through his trouser pockets. "Sorry, Rhee, but we need to gather intelligence."

  Rhee's head drifted left and right. "Black is ugly color."

  "It's not a color at all. I can't find your wallet. Where is it?"

  "I don't know…fucking nephews always robbing me…"

  Lawson nodded at the two guards. "Are they OK?"

  "They got shots, knocked them out. If they don't wake up, fine by me. Useless nephews..."

  "How many nephews have you got here?"

  "Too many."

  "What about you?"

  "They tossed my leg!"

  "Yes, I saw. Bastards."

  "They gave me drug to tell truth." Rhee began to weep. "Life is so depressing!"

  "What did you tell them?"

  "Password to company computer. They run off with my other idiot nephew!"

  "Why'd they do that?"

  "He got passwords to all sorts of accounts. I don't know them all. They step on his toe, he'll tell them everything. No need truth serum for him."

  "Who are these people?"

  "They were my customers."

  "Did you crash their cars?"

  "Big black dummy you are," said Rhee, who promptly passed out.

  "Yeah, and without your glasses, you look like a squashed prune."

  Ari only half-listened to this interview, keeping his other ear to the door. There was a loud burst of machine gun fire up front, instantly accompanied by the sound of shattering glass and plastic. A moment later, there was shuffling in the hallway. Ari pocketed his gun and looked down at his knuckles, still sore from a recent encounter. He took up a heavy ash tray on a table next to the door, waited until he saw a shadow, waited an instant more for the shadow to darken.

  He flung the door open. Mohammed had the laptop under one arm and his machine pistol in hand. He had removed his ski mask. Blood flowed from a gash in his forehead and he was trying to wipe the blood out of his eyes with the back of his free hand. Surprised, he was only halfway in his turn when Ari slammed the ash tray into his cheekbone. The laptop flew up, but he kept hold of the Uzi. Ari kicked him in the knee, and as he fell kicked him in the hip. Mohammed slapped onto the floor, the gun thudding on the carpet. Ari picked up the gun, turned it sideways, and began beating Mohammed on the side of the head.