Acts of Violence

by Ross Harrison

  ‘Just take me to Van,’ I said.

  The eyes creased slightly into a smile. I enjoyed women. Not just to be in bed with. They were beautiful creatures. The way they moved. Their shape. Their smell. How different they were to men. Well, not all. Some were pricks just like any man. It was the eyes I liked most. I’d sit for hours watching Lucy’s eyes while she talked to me. Their colour. Their shape. The way they changed depending on her topic. That was before I split her skull and sunk her to the bottom of the lake.

  The waitress, who other nights might be up on one of the stages, kept my hand as she walked around the platform ring. Probably a better route than I’d intended. I reckoned it was about half eight, but the place was already busy. In another hour it would upgrade to packed. An hour after that, seething. It would stay that way until the early hours began to get tired.

  Guys, and some girls, watched with envy in their eyes as the waitress led me past them. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that they thought I was paying for some special treatment from her, but it wasn’t exactly the biggest issue on my mind either. As I passed other waitresses attending the tables, I saw that my waitress was one of the most attractive girls in the place. Probably why she got those looks and the wad of notes.

  At the far end of the platform, she led me down the steps to a door beside the main stage. It was just like The Web, except instead of the bar, here was a curtain leading off stage to the dancers’ dressing room. Or undressing room. The bar was on the other side of the stage. Above, an office hung from the ceiling, suspended by thick cables. Probably some tech too. Just like Webster’s office, the walls and floor were all glass. As this was a bigger building, though, the office extended through to the other side of the curtain. Above the stage, all I could see was the underside of a black leather couch.

  While I was staring up at that, the girl spoke to the security guy on the door. He looked a little more trained than the bouncers outside. More professional. Less pleasant. He just nodded curtly and stepped aside. She pushed the door open and led me through.

  Here, the place got completely different to The Web. The stairs were in the same place, but to the side was a doorway through to backstage. The dancer who’d just finished her act stepped backwards through the curtain, blowing a few kisses. As soon as the heavy red material fell back into place and hid her, her posture dropped a little and she sighed as she stepped down and out of sight. Whether she was tired of her life or just tired of today, I didn’t know.

  At the foot of the stairs were two other doorways. One probably led to more dressing rooms, and I could hear chattering from beyond. It was tempting to slip through there and find myself in the midst of girls dressing and undressing. The temptation wasn’t particularly strong right now though. As I kept needlessly reminding myself, I had much bigger things to think about. Besides, I’d be willing to bet it was far more interesting in my imagination.

  The office’s wall at the top of the stairs was opaque. Probably see-through from the other side though. The girl knocked on the door and waited. Just a couple of seconds passed before a mountainous bald guy opened the door. He had to stoop to see who was on the other side. I remembered this guy. He was the one who would do many painful things to me if I didn’t get Van his money. He had a face like a gorilla. Only white and hairless. Right down to the nose. At some point, someone had sliced most of that off. I didn’t like looking at him.

  I wanted to greet him with an endearing nickname like ‘Snotty’ or ‘Stinky’, but even I didn’t find that particularly amusing. And he might pull my arms off. I settled for giving him as non-aggressive a nod as I could without adding a smile. I didn’t feel like smiling at a bald gorilla.

  His eyes touched on me first, then flicked to the girl. Then they snapped down to our hands. She let go. Coming to his door holding this girl’s hand was obviously not the way into his good books. I didn’t blame him for the torch he was doing such a bad job of hiding. A kind, gentle aura emanated from this girl to go along with the looks.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said to her. Tried to make it businesslike. Like I saw her as a person who led me to the door. Not a beautiful, sexy woman whose private parts were about as private as the bar downstairs.

  She smiled at me. Not the same smile as before. Businesslike. Then she smiled at the gorilla. Warmer. Kinder. Then she left.

  ‘The heat’s getting in,’ a voice called from inside the office. Van’s voice. He didn’t like it warm.

  The gorilla jerked his head towards the source of the voice and stood to the side of the door. Watched me as I stepped inside. I nearly grabbed him. Not an attack. A panicked move to save myself. I was getting jumpy again. The glass floor made my stomach drop. Thought for a second I was going to drop with it and break my legs.

  Below one end was the stage. That was the only end with glass walls. The rest was a modest grey. Except for the floor, which was glass all the way along. Most of the office hung over the top of the dancer’s dressing room. About eight girls were down there. One was actually dressed. That is to say, she wore a short skirt and a T-shirt that looked like it belonged to someone half her size.

  Two girls drew my gaze. A brunette sat in a chair, completely naked except for glass high heels. Her legs were spread. One calf resting on the side of the other girl’s chair, one resting on the makeup table. The second, blonde girl was carefully outlining the more intimate parts of the brunette’s body with glow marker.

  ‘Hello, Jack,’ Van said.

  He’d allowed me time to get distracted by the girls, oblivious to my watching them. Well, oblivious until the brunette lay her head back in the chair and spotted me. The gorilla shoved me forward. His reminder that I should have the manners to answer Van. I glanced back down again to see two raised middle fingers. Charming girl.

  ‘Hello, Van. How’s…business? Or something sociable.’

  ‘Which business? The dancers? The serving of alcohol? Or the generous lending of money to those in need?’

  ‘Oh, it’s good of you to offer, but I’ve got enough cash to get by for now. I’ll take the drink though.’

  Van smiled a friendly smile, laced with knowing. He nodded to the gorilla. I heard glasses clinking behind me. Van’s pale eyes bored into mine through his black-rimmed glasses. Those eyes in anyone else’s head would have told me of a cold, calculating owner. Well, I guessed he was calculating. Not all that cold though.

  ‘I’m going to hazard a guess,’ he said, ‘that you didn’t come here to pay me back what I’m due.’

  The gorilla stepped past me to hand Van his drink first. Then he thrust the other glass at me. It sloshed around the rim and splashed on my coat. I glanced at the wet patch, but decided against saying anything to him.

  ‘Real whiskey,’ I said, sniffing the golden liquid. ‘I’m honoured.’

  ‘Well, from what I’m hearing, it might be your last drink.’ I couldn’t help the second’s hesitation mid sip. ‘That’s right, I know he’s after your head. Empty though it may be.’

  I took another slow sip while I thought. My mind went to my pistol…sitting in the pocket of a bouncer outside. Then it went about two feet behind me, to the shaved gorilla. The hands that could probably crush my head like a grape.

  I chose silence.

  ‘No smart comment? No “Please, Van, don’t hand me over to that mean old man”?’

  ‘I guess I could offer you some money not to. I have about a hundred and eighty credits right here in my pocket. Tempted?’ I grinned.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly a large sum. It would take one of these girls, oh, about a whole hour to earn that much cash. But I think I’ll decline.’

  Van ran his fingers through his short black hair. Checked the sleeves of his powder blue suit. Then returned his gaze to me. It was obviously my turn to talk.

  ‘I need your medical expertise,’ I said. He nodded thoughtfully at the bloodstained bullet hole in my coat. He wouldn’t have missed it when I walked in. He was waiting for
me to bring it up.

  Van’s medical expertise, as I’d called it, didn’t stretch all that far. For a couple of years, he’d been an ambulance driver. He had no medical training beyond resuscitation. But in two years, he’d picked up enough. He could certainly help with my wound.

  ‘You’re not going to bleed out in my office are you? Might frighten the girls to look up and see a dead man lying above them.’

  ‘Barely an itch. But an itch that needs scratching.’

  Van tilted his head a little while he considered me.

  There was a change around me. I wasn’t sure what it was. A glance over my shoulder told me the lights in the main club had gone out. I looked down and saw two glowing circles side by side. Below the circles was what looked like a sideways mouth. Below that, glowing high heels. The glow marker tattoos disappeared as the brunette passed through the curtain to start her show. I could hear muffled yelling and whistling. I guessed some things were a little more subtle after all.

  ‘All right, Jack,’ Van sighed. Even if he was going to hand me to Webster, or kill me himself, he’d patch me up first. ‘Get the first aid kit from the kitchen, would you?’ he said to the gorilla.

  As the thumping of the gorilla’s boots left the office, I took off my coat and my suit jacket. Van came around the steel desk and dragged a felt-footed chair to my side. Sat.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, as he ripped the shirt around the bullet hole. ‘Anyone would think a mosquito had got to you.’

  I looked at the wound for the first time. The bullet had grazed me. It took enough flesh that I didn’t really want to be running around with it open, but it was far from fatal. The worst I could expect from it was an infection.

  ‘So you killed Dicky Webster,’ Van said. Said it matter-of-factly.

  ‘He started it.’

  ‘Uh huh. I expect he did. He likes starting things. Not so good at finishing them. Not without his boys around. So now Cole wants you dead. And you…walk into his club.’

  ‘I walked into your club.’

  ‘You walked into a club owned by the man who wants your head, attached or not, and managed by the man you owe money to. All to get your little paper cut sewn up.’

  ‘I owe you money? Well like I said, I have about a hundred credits in my pocket. I’m sure that’ll cover it.’

  ‘You said a hundred and eighty and no it won’t. You’ve owed me for too long.’

  ‘Well, I can’t pay you back if you hand me over to Webster and he kills me, can I? Or if the cops come for me again and pack me off to Anshan.’

  ‘Anshan? What did you do this time?’

  ‘Take your pick.’

  The gorilla arrived back through the door with a green bag in his stupidly big hands. Handed it to Van. Took up position again, looming over me. Van pulled out an antiseptic spray and something that looked like a pen.

  ‘So why are you still in town?’

  ‘I have till morning to find something on Webster. If I can, the UPSF turns its eyes from me to him.’

  Van froze halfway through spraying my wound. ‘UPSF? They’re in Harem? I didn’t hear anything about that.’

  ‘Just one agent and two dogs.’

  ‘And they want Webster?’

  I was beginning to see a path through the thorns. ‘Yeah, the agent and a detective. If I can link Webster to this murder they want me for, or for trafficking or something, they’ll take him down. There’s no reason his clubs should be just shut down. I imagine they’d go to the managers…’

  Van swapped the spray for the pen-like tool. He pinched the wound closed. Ran the end of the thing over it. The wound sealed and with a swipe of a damp antiseptic wipe, it was barely visible. I could have done that myself if I’d had a first aid kit handy.

  ‘You should probably leave,’ Van said as I pulled my jacket and coat back on. I searched for an answer in his eyes while I drained my glass. ‘The cameras ID’d you as soon as you came in. That asshole will probably be on his way now. His guys are already here.’

  He nodded towards the other end of the office. I looked through the glass floor under the couch. Two guys stood where I had, just inside the door. They were unmistakably Webster’s. Neither was looking up at the office yet.

  ‘They can’t see in. I blocked out the glass. But they’ll be up soon enough.’

  I stood. My eyesight seemed to go black and blinding white at the same time. Red quickly followed, along with a throbbing ache in my solar plexus. I collapsed back into the chair. Gasped for breath. The gorilla stepped back.

  ‘A reminder that you still owe me money, Jack,’ Van said. ‘Webster doesn’t kill you, you make sure I’m your first stop. And have a nice full credit card with you. I don’t wanna have to come and collect it myself.’

  I could feel it in my throat. Like I was going to throw up. It took nearly a minute before I could breathe in without trying to cough my lungs out. The gorilla could have done with my chair smashed over his head, but I had to get out of there. Besides, I wasn’t sure he’d even notice it.

  The goons were walking around the sides of the club in opposite directions. They’d go all the way round and when they didn’t see me, they’d head up here.

  ‘There’s a door out the back,’ Van said, glancing at a datapad on the desk. ‘The alley looks clear for now.’

  I nodded. Maybe I owed him thanks. He was letting me off without paying him again, and he was letting me escape his own boss’ goons. We weren’t that close. It was only because if I did take down Webster, Van would get this club. Maybe The Web too, if he was smart enough. I thought he was.

  ‘Your guy took my iron,’ I told Van.

  ‘You’re welcome to go and ask for it back.’ He wasn’t going to help me with that. ‘Make sure he gets out,’ he told the gorilla.

  I followed behind, rubbing my stomach. Between Little Dick and the gorilla, I’d be surprised if my insides were still solid. At the bottom of the stairs, he pointed through one of the doors.

  The door out to the club opened. Both goons were outside. They didn’t spot me though. Their eyes snapped straight up into the gorilla’s face. Recoiled a bit. I don’t know if it was because he was so big or so ugly. As I slipped through the doorway, the gorilla shoved the two aside with a rumbling growl in his throat. He obviously didn’t like Webster’s people.

  I pressed my back to the wall on the other side of the doorway. No point making for the back door if those goons were going to stick their heads in here and see me running. I was pressed so hard against the wall I could feel my heart thumping in my back. Their footsteps clumped on the glass stairs. As I breathed out my relief and stopped hugging the wall, I realised where I was. Six girls sat at their dressing tables, watching me curiously.

  ‘Evening.’ I smiled and nodded at the room in general. Headed for the back.

  Outside the room was a short corridor between it and the one just backstage, under Van’s office. Halfway along was the door to the back alley. I hoped it was still clear. As soon as I turned the handle, the door threw itself in towards me. I clenched my fist, ready to throw as hard a punch as I could. But it was just the wind. The storm hadn’t calmed any while I was inside.

  Cautiously, I stuck my head out. Lightning lit the alley for me. Showed me there was no one around. The thunder that followed scared the shit out of me regardless. Made me think I’d been shot again. I was getting tired of being so damn jumpy. I didn’t like it. I hadn’t been in this kind of situation before, but I’d been shot at here and there. Never affected me like this. Maybe it was the lack of an available target to get my own back on. I kind of felt helpless in a way. If I could hit someone, or shoot at someone, I’d feel better. Throwing the car at those goons had made me feel better. Shooting the guy in the apartment building had made me feel better. So, yeah, I guessed that’s what it was. Just needed to shoot someone.

  I didn’t know which way was least likely to take me to Webster’s goons, so I just went left. That was the direction
of the diner anyway. The one across from The Web. Maybe the girl would have gone back there. Even if she hadn’t, I’d need a directory to find this Jarvis guy.

  ELEVEN | FAMILY TIES

  The girl wasn’t in the diner. But there was a directory. I hoped the proximity to Webster’s premier club would mean his goons wouldn’t think to look for me in here. The plastic bench cover creaked and squeaked as I tried to relax a bit. I sipped the coffee. Still awful.

  Premier club. It was ridiculous. The club was in the heart of the west side. The east side was the rich side. The side with all the gambling houses and other clubs. But he set up The Web here. And it worked. The social elite – or at least their spoilt brats – packed the place just about every night. Probably thought they were on an adventure, crossing into the peasant quarter.

  This time, there was only one other customer in the place. A middle-aged guy trying not to fall asleep in his dinner. From the colour of his hands I guessed he was one of Webster’s miners. On his way home. The paranoia got to me again. I thought about the train sitting over the tunnel. That was the only way for the miners who didn’t live out by the mines to get back to the city. It had been sat there a good while now. Over an hour. Could this guy have been here that long? Maybe he was planted here.

  I shook my head. Just like the nerves, the paranoia was new to me. I wasn’t used to being hunted, but it pissed me off that I wasn’t handling it better. I told myself to get a grip.

  The directory was in the form of a bulky old datapad. The chunky attachment at the top was probably a security device to stop me running off with such a valuable item. Ironically, it took some searching before I found the search function. I entered the name ‘Harold Jarvis’.