21 Hours

by Dustin Stevens

  This was bad. There had to be another way to find what I was looking for. I was of no use to Lex or Annie dead. "Um, maybe I should just go. Merric seems like a very busy man."

  The smile slid from Vincent's face and he pulled back the left tail of his jacket to reveal a snub-nose revolver tucked into the waistband of his slacks. "Right through that door. Merric will see you shortly."

  Chapter Nine

  A narrow hallway extended away from the door. The walls were made of cinder block, the floor and ceiling from concrete brushed smooth. Every few feet a single bulb hung down, housed in a wire cage that threw a random pattern of shadows across everything.

  The door slammed shut behind me and a thunderous echo reverberated off the walls. I already knew the door would be locked tight, but I turned to check just the same. Not even a doorknob stared back at me.

  This was very bad.

  My boots made a knocking sound against the floor as I walked forward, the hallway sloping downward before me. With each step a dull buzzing grew in the distance, starting almost inaudibly and rising in volume. The ground continued to fall away until I was certain I'd descended over a story underground before leveling off.

  Ahead of me loomed a second door, this one much different than the one I'd just passed through. It looked to be made entirely of wood and had cross pieces in the shape an X on the bottom with several horizontal slats spaced evenly across the top. Just a day before I was back in Wyoming staring at cows through a similar gate, now I was in a casino on the worst street in Columbus doing the exact same thing. Something told me whatever was on the other side of this one was going to be a lot more hostile than a bovine.

  This was really not good.

  The gate in front of me grew ever closer as the sound became louder. It escalated from a hive of bees into an anxious crowd, the distinct din of voices drifting in through the wooden slats.

  I pressed myself tight against one side of the hallway and crept up to it. With a jut of my head I gazed between the top two slats to see the gate opened into a wide earthen ring. Straight across from me was a matching wooden gate with polished concrete walls poured in a circle connecting them on either side. The floor of the ring was soft dirt, the ground lying in uneven humps.

  Above the ring, at least a dozen rows of bleachers extended straight up like some sort of gladiator arena. Already they were over half full of people, with more streaming in by the second.

  It didn't take a genius to see what was about to happen.

  I'd never been one to back down from a scrap. In high school football I was so willing to throw down, the coaches changed my nickname to KO, short for knockout. In prison, well, nobody gets out alive without having been through a few scuffles.

  That being said, I had no absolutely no interest in fighting. Best case scenario, I beat down whoever the hell Peka was and royally piss of Merric. Worst case, I end up face down in the soft dirt of the ring. Neither one would help find Annie.

  "Ladies and gentleman," a voice boomed over a microphone so loud it bounced through my tiny hallway. It was thick with a Gaelic accent which I guessed belonged to Merric. "We have a very special treat for you here this evening. Peka has been issued a challenge!"

  A shower of cheers rang out from the nearly full bleachers. Many stomped their feet on the wooden rails beneath them, producing a deep rumbling sound. Others whistled or clapped their hands overhead.

  "Our challenger tonight comes to us fresh off the farm and is currently listed as a fifteen-to-one underdog. Please put your hands together and welcome Cowboy!" As he finished the introduction, Kid Rock's Cowboy came on over the loud speaker. The volume was at full blast, but it failed to drown out a chorus of boos as the wooden gate swung open in front of me.

  The knot was firmly back in my stomach. For them to have already pegged me as a fifteen-to-one underdog after a brief walk through the casino floor meant I either looked like an easy victim or Peka was a force to be reckoned with.

  In my boots I measured nearly six and a half feet tall and weighed 210. I did not look like an easy victim.

  I gave one last glance around the hallway to make sure there was no other way out before stepping onto the arena floor. As soon as I cleared the gate it swung back into place, leaving me standing very much alone under the blinding lights of the arena. Above I could see people continuing to boo, many making exaggerated thumbs-down gestures while a few even laughed.

  My gaze hardened as it swept around the room. I didn't want to fight, but if that's what it took to get to Merric and on to Annie, that's what I would do.

  The time for concern was over.

  "And his opponent, a man you all know and love, coming to us with a perfect nineteen and zero record...Peeee-kaaaa!" Merric called over the PA, his voice echoing through the hall. Instantly the crowd broke into pandemonium, chanting Peka's name again and again.

  Across from me the gate swung open, revealing a darkened hallway. From deep within it a man slowly emerged, his enormous frame almost scraping the walls on both sides. My eyes bulged a bit as he stepped into the light of the ring, his stare locked on me.

  The crowd went into a frenzy as Peka walked out to reveal a Samoan man standing just shy of six feet tall with a pointed nose and chin. Thick black hair was shaved into a Mohawk on top, the rest pulled back into a ponytail that disappeared somewhere down his back. A web of tribal tattoos covered both shoulders and one side of his face.

  None of that bothered me. It was more the fact that he must have weighed somewhere close to four hundred pounds that had me concerned.

  Overhead Peka's tribal entrance music came to a stop. Merric again took up the microphone and said, "The only rule here is the fight continues until one of you can't. Go!"

  On cue the crowd shifted from mindless cheering to focused banter, lobbing comments and encouragement at the ring. I glanced down at my attire and instantly wished I was better equipped for a fight. My mind wandered over the knife tucked away in my boot, but I decided to leave it there for the time being. If I did somehow get out of here, I didn't want Merric to know I was coming to see him armed.

  I did my best to keep my face impassive as I stared at Peka. In my mind I kept trying to conjure Annie's face and remind myself why I was doing this, but all I could manage to see was the twisted smile of the massive Islander as he cracked his knuckles and circled right.

  So this was actually going to happen.

  If prison taught me anything, it was to always err on the side of aggression. I matched Peka's circle for three steps before shuffling forward and snapping a hard left jab, followed by a quick 1-2 jab-cross combo.

  All three punches landed square. None had any effect.

  The noise of the crowd faded away as I shuffled backwards and came in again, shot out another jab followed by a hard hook. Both of these landed as well and the hook snapped his head to the side. When it came back around, his expression had changed from amused to angry.

  Angry can be good. Angry sometimes causes people to be overly aggressive. I only hoped he would do something I could take advantage of.

  Again I retreated out of arm's reach and bounced on the balls of my feet. I could see venom welling in his face as he rolled his body into a fighting stance and charged towards me. I waited until he was just a couple feet away before springing straight forward into a roll and narrowly ducking under his thick outstretched arms. In one fluid movement, I rolled to my feet and aimed the toe of my boot at his ribs as hard as I could.

  My boot slammed into his doughy abdomen, the blow producing little effect but to send a ripple through the thick belt of fat wrapped around him. Peka bent to the side and slammed his arm down across my calf, pinning my leg to his side. He grinned menacingly as he clutched it there and watched me hop on one foot.

  He jerked forward to pull me off balance and swung in with a heavy overhand blow from the opposite side. Balled up, his hand was the size of a Thanksgiving turkey and I lowered my head to keep it from slamming
into my nose.

  Instead, it connected right at my hairline. I could feel blood running down the side of my face as I went down flat on my back. The lights above drifted out of focus for a moment before snapping back and a dull hum settled in my ear. Before I could move, Peka swung in hard with an open handed swat across my jaw that sent my face hard in the opposite direction. A plume of spittle and blood sprawled out across the dirt in front of me.

  Time seemed to slow down. My head spun and I could feel blood dripping down my cheek and chin. Peka's massive legs stomped in a circle around me, no doubt playing to the crowd as I laid there. I forced myself to roll in two tight revolutions to the side and retook my feet, my head spinning as I stood.

  Across the ring Peka had his back to me, his arms outstretched overhead. A renewed sense of purpose welled within me and I charged hard at his exposed spine and launched myself through the air. My shoulder slammed into him just below the kidneys and shoved him forward, his face meeting the concrete wall unceremoniously.

  Peka turned and snarled at me, blood dripping from his nose. I hopped to my feet and swung a vicious left uppercut at him, the punch landing square across his cheek. The sound of bones popping rang out as it connected, both from his face and my hand. Stifling pain rippled through my arm as I stumbled backwards and my hand flopped uselessly by my side.

  In a flash of speed I didn't expect from a man his size, Peka rushed forward and grabbed me by my shirt. Before I could move he hefted me over his head and launched me across the ring like I weighed nothing at all. My body smashed into the wooden gate I'd used just a few minutes before, wood splintering around me.

  For several long seconds I remained on the ground as my body attempted to process what just happened. Peka stomped around nearby, rubbing his broken jaw with a dour expression on his face.

  Very slowly I rolled to all fours and stared at the floor beneath me as my eyes came back into focus. The knife tucked in my boot again entered my mind, but was replaced by the jagged piece of two-by-four pinned beneath my body.

  I stayed on my knees, my focus on the board, as Peka marched around in the ring. I watched through my periphery as after a few seconds he tired of waiting for me to rise and moved for me. Anticipation creeping in, I remained in place, waiting for him to stalk closer.

  When his thick legs were just a few feet away, I grasped the makeshift weapon and shot forward. Holding it like a poker, I smashed the flat end of it up under his chin. The board connected square, his broken jaw twisting grotesquely across his face as he stumbled back a few steps and his eyes began to flitter.

  I shifted my grip down to that of a baseball bat and hefted it over my head, slamming it down flat against his forehead. Peka wobbled in place before dropping to his knees, his tremendous bulk bouncing in place as he settled into the dirt. With one quick step I shifted to the side and swung as hard as my hand would allow across his cheek.

  The two-by-four splintered into a thousand pieces as pain coursed through my left arm. Blood and shards of wood fluttered into the air as Peka's eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to his side. A puff of dust rose around his enormous body as he lay in the center of the ring, unmoving.

  I stumbled several steps, dropped to a knee and lowered a hand to the ground to steady myself. Above me the sound of the arena returned, a mixed reaction of amazed delight and bettors angry at their loss.

  While bent over, I slipped the knife from my sock into my left hand and stood. I made a show of letting the left hand appear useless as I stared up at the crowd, watching as they showered cups and betting slips into the dirt around me.

  Chapter Ten

  The switchblade was palmed in my left hand, my right hand cupped around it, as I followed Vincent up a back stairwell. Every few steps he glanced over me, his face somewhere between impressed and annoyed. My guess was he was a little of both.

  On my end I focused my eyes straight ahead and kept walking. I made no effort to meet his gaze or even let him know I could feel his eyes on me. Instead I locked my jaw and followed, my head and hand both aching.

  At the top of the stairwell was a single metal door. Vincent took out some sort of card and waved it in front of a sensor on the wall. A moment later the red light in the corner of it flipped to green and an internal lock released, the sound loud in the empty concrete stairwell. I made no effort to reach for it, keeping my hands folded in front of me and waiting for Vincent to pull it open.

  Right now they thought my wounded body was essentially useless. Better to let them keep on believing it.

  The door opened into a wide landing on the second floor. Oval in shape, the left side of the landing held a row of dark tinted windows looking out over the parking lot. With a quick glance I could see that more people were arriving by the second, cars now parked haphazardly along the road.

  The right side of the landing was taken up by a single room. A cream colored wall bowed out halfway into the foyer, a wooden double door standing in the middle of it. The entirety of the foyer was decorated in red and gold, the colors swirled into a pattern on the carpet and mixed in several tapestries hanging on the wall.

  Not the colors I would have associated with a man named Merric, but what do I know about interior design?

  My eyes scanned the room as we walked across the carpet. Two cameras hung above either stairwell entrance, but there were no guards in sight. This was a good thing.

  Vincent wrapped twice on the wooden doors and paused, again glancing my way.

  "Bring him in," a voice barked from within.

  A gust of icy air burst into my face as I stepped into an enormous office. Shaped like a football, one side was comprised of the wall I'd just passed through. On either side of the door were banks of video monitors, all of them showing different angles of the casino floor and parking lot, at least thirty or forty in total.

  The opposite side housed two enormous windows, separated by a gap of wall just wide enough to hold a framed Irish flag. Behind one window I could see the flashing lights of the casino below. Through the other, I could see a handful of men working to revive Peka in the arena floor.

  An enormous desk sat in front of the Irish flag, the dark wood stretching nearly ten feet in length. On one end of it was an oversized computer monitor. On the other were the polished black boots of Merric.

  There was nobody else in the room but us three. I guess he thought the cameras and the keycards were enough security for his inner sanctum.

  Major advantage for me.

  "Well then, that was quite a show you put on," Merric said. His accent was even thicker in person, some of the words almost indecipherable. He had medium length red hair spiked out from his head and skin so pale it was almost albino. He wore a purple dress shirt with a black vest and slacks. Several large rings adorned his fingers.

  I nodded, but said nothing.

  "Any man willing to go through all that must really wish to speak to me."

  I considered the question. I couldn't give a damn about speaking to him, I just needed information I knew he had. "Yes, sir."

  Merric smiled at my use of the word sir. "And what's your name?"

  "Cowboy will do," I said. If he really wanted to know it wouldn't take long to find out, but I wasn't going to offer up that information if I didn't have to.

  The smile faded just as fast. "Normally I like to know with whom I'm speaking, but we can do it that way if you'd prefer. What can I do for you Cowboy?"

  The next words out of my mouth would no doubt determine how much longer somebody in that room lived. I could sense Vincent move to just off my left shoulder while Merric continued to eye me. "I understand you're a man known to locate certain things from time to time."

  "Depends on the things," Merric said.

  "Children.”

  The word had the effect I intended. His face fell flat as he lowered one foot at a time to the floor. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk and his voice dropped a decibel. "I don't know what it
is you think you know, but I promise you've been misinformed."

  Beside me, Vincent edge a little closer. Good. I needed him within arm's reach. I shook my head at Merric. "I don't think so. The information came from a pretty reliable source. They tell me you're the guy I talk to about getting my hands on a kid."

  Merric shifted his gaze to Vincent. "Jesus Vinny, you brought a damn cop in here. Take this asshole out."

  Vincent moved to just a couple of feet away and went to grab me. "I'm not a cop for Christ's sake," I spat. "If I was a cop I'd have walked in here with a SWAT team and taken the place apart. I sure as hell wouldn't have wrestled around in the pit with that gorilla of yours."

  Vincent stopped mid-movement and stared at Merric. He clearly wanted to obey his boss's demands, but found it hard to argue with my simple logic.

  "If you're not a cop, you're a pedophile and I don't deal with your kind either. Meeting adjourned. Vincent, see his ass out of here," Merric said, leaning back in his chair and tossing a dismissive wave of his hand in my direction.

  A surge of adrenaline burst through me as I pushed the knife into my right hand and pressed the blade release. I heard the familiar snap of the blade pop open and jammed it into the left side of Vincent’s chest. No further parlay, no waving the blade around and trying to scare them.

  Always err on the side of aggression. Besides, something told me these guys didn’t scare easy.

  The razor sharp ceramic blade slid through his suit and into his heart without opposition, buried clear to the hilt. Vincent's eyes bulged as a small rasp escaped his throat and he toppled over backwards. As he went, I released the knife and snatched the snub-nose from his waistband, twisting and holding it at arm’s length towards Merric.

  The entire altercation took less than five seconds. He didn’t even have the chance to look surprised, let alone make a move.

  "I'm not a cop and I'm damn sure not a pedophile.”

  Merric's slack jaw worked up and down several times. "That...he...you just killed my second-in-command."