Bayonet Dawn (SMC Marauders Book 1)

by Scott Moon

  Kevin found his brother outside of the old train station, which hadn’t seen a moving train for a hundred years. The place was on the surface, no longer used by governments or corporations. Modern rail travel was below ground or above on high-speed rails. Raf, the crime boss of three neighborhoods, liked the railroad station because of its grandeur and old architecture.

  He maintained the ancient building with a legion of people working off debts. There was a classic style to the place. Marble facades and ancient stonework endured time and careless hands, up to a point.

  Raf kept the lights dimmer than they needed to be. The crime lord could afford to illuminate the place brighter than the presidential palace or a starship but had a taste for dramatic presentation and shifting shadows.

  Across the street from the train station were a surprising variety of successful businesses. Once or twice, when his parents were still alive, they had taken the young Connelly family to this district to eat at one of the many food stalls — perfectly safe if you didn’t owe money or plan on making a bad bargain. There were even street performers and cops who didn’t seem intent on competing with gangs for a shakedown.

  Arthur leaned against a pole, his jacket sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms and calloused hands. Kevin was simultaneously in awe of his brother and unimpressed.

  He was accustomed to the animal grace and the way Arthur moved. He had seen his brother switch from generous and full of good humor to cracking heads. If the rules were followed in the neighborhood, it was as safe a place as there ever had been and not a bad place to live. It was better with decent jobs and patrons in both the government and the underworld. Arthur and Kevin had to be ready to fight because they had lost their parents when they were young. All four of the Connelly kids had decided they didn’t want to be wards of the state.

  That meant a self-imposed life of constant struggle.

  Why can’t we get a break? Kevin thought. Turning away from his brother and the ordeal ahead, he looked down the boulevard flanked with twenty-seven-story buildings.

  Fast moving clouds shifted above the city to reveal layers of air traffic and an indirect patch of sunlight that illuminated the east wall of Building 595, famous because of the elaborate graffiti painted on the building-sized government mural. A Void Troll, what neighborhood kids called the Rock Giant, struggled eternally to smash the side of a human Civil Peace Corps vehicle.

  Nearly illegible graffiti letters sprawled in bright colors from every balcony. The fearsome monster looked like he was wearing festival wreaths of street poetry and tagger signatures.

  “Kevin,” his brother said in a soft and sympathetic tone. “Don’t look back.”

  Kevin clenched his teeth, keeping his back to his brother. He tried to focus on the image of Building 595 with the grim monster covered in bright artwork. Despite the awesome grandeur of the sun cutting down on the icon, he couldn’t focus on it.

  “Come on,” Arthur said. “We’re late. What the hell took you so long? You know how Raf is.”

  “I came as soon as I got the message.” Kevin was tired and realized he hadn’t eaten his last meal or two. On any other day, it would’ve been time to stand up to his brother and fight it out. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He walled off his memory and imagination of Grandfather Brandon, not wanting to shame himself before the recollection of the great man.

  Nothing good would come from dealing with the criminal underworld. There were cops in the neighborhood who would harass Kevin and Arthur if they saw them going near this place. That was all they needed now; to not only lose the support of the police searching for Ace and Amanda but to be harassed every time they left Building 595.

  “Next time you better come faster is all I’m saying.” Arthur walked up a wide stairway as grand as the Official Neighborhood Library where Ruby worked. Like the library, there were sculptures of lions on each side and huge arches towering higher than practical or reasonable. Once, not long ago, he had seen a scaffolding being hoisted up to clean the intricately carved stonework.

  Years ago, there had been a celebration Raf demanded everyone attend. Kevin remembered the colorful lights splashing across the old train station fit to welcome ambassadors from another world or one of the many benevolent dictators of Earth governments.

  Now the place was grim with the sun setting and cutting red and gold light across the nearby park and faded marble facade of the station. On the stairs, two dozen men a casual observer might compare to the gang toughs back in the neighborhood loitered. Kevin was certain these men were better armed than the police and had earned their place in Raf’s elite squad of triggerman by committing murders and other crimes he didn’t want to think about.

  Arthur ignored them, their hard stares through cigarette smoke and their expensive athletic workout clothing.

  Kevin hoped his brother understood Raf’s soldiers. These men could make bodies disappear. He noticed the Herrington boy, as Ruby had called him, sitting at the fringe of the group with close-cropped hair and a military bearing uncommon to the others.

  “What are we doing here?” Kevin asked under his breath as they went inside.

  Arthur ignored the question and kept moving.

  Most of the station benches had been removed from the ornately tiled main room. Kevin had never been inside. He stared at tall pillars and banners hanging from the wall in several places like something taken from an enemy army.

  He was sure the ornamentation was from long forgotten sports teams but recognized none of the logos. Even with Raf’s attention to extravagance and ornamentation, the banners had faded from years of dusty neglect. Kevin couldn’t imagine how a cleaning crew could get up there.

  7

  Brothers Fight

  TWO men approached Arthur and Kevin. In contrast to the platoon of the enforcers outside, these men wore expensive suits that fit. Both had neat haircuts, gold watches, and were of the same height. Between them walked a small man squinting through wire-frame glasses under thinning hair, as though these features made him better than everyone in the room.

  Kevin studied the small rat-faced consigliere with growing dread. The man was old but fit for his advanced years and sun-spotted skin. It was impossible to know for sure, but this individual reminded Kevin of a man Grandfather Brandon had described, not to Kevin or Arthur, but one night when he was drunk and commiserating with his son while everyone else slept.

  The scene was easier to remember than to see in his memories. The present moment demanded his attention.

  “Mr. Raf is ready to see you now.” The consigliere adjusted a cufflink and turned but paused in the middle of the motion. He inclined his head a fraction of an inch and then spoke without making eye contact or facing his guests. “I advise you to act properly. Respect the man who keeps the city safe.”

  Kevin and his brother followed the man. The well-dressed bodyguards followed them.

  “I’ll do all the talking,” Arthur said.

  “I don’t even want to be here. Of course you’ll do all the talking,” Kevin said.

  His brother clenched his teeth and made a dangerous sound low in his throat. It was the “I’m pissed enough to hurt you, but we’re in public” sound.

  Kevin glanced over his shoulder and found the two suits staring back.

  “What are they doing?” Arthur asked, eyes on the consigliere.

  “Watching us,” Kevin said, no longer wanting to argue with his brother. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I wish Grandfather Brandon were here.”

  Arthur snorted, earning a look and a raised eyebrow from the consigliere. He waited for the man to face forward and continue to lead them down the wide marble hallway.

  Kevin tensed.

  Arthur exhaled once they were moving again. “Don’t start with that here. I loved him as much as you did, but he isn’t here and can’t get us the money and connections to find the twins.”

  Kevin doubted anyone loved Grandfather Brandon as much as he did but
didn’t argue the point. “We have never asked Raf for anything. Once we make a bargain, we’re nothing more than indentured servants, slaves, or hostages.”

  Arthur didn’t respond.

  Their footsteps sounded loud and lonely. The place was made for hundreds of busy people, not two young men going to meet an ugly fate.

  The converted train station comprised four main rooms — gathering spaces and waiting areas for crowds of people using the public transit systems long ago. Automated staircases to the basement level had been replaced with something more dignified — custom concrete infused with the colors of Raf’s family and preformed patterns celebrating honor and wealth. Polished railings and durable strip carpeting made the descent look almost inviting. Kevin could only see the much-talked-about steps to the underworld from a distance.

  On his way to the meeting, he had dreaded the place, forcing aside dark tales that could not be true. The consigliere steered them away from what some called the gates to hell and toward what looked like a balcony restaurant. Even from a distance, he could hear the sound of forks and knives on plates, soft music, and watch waiters and waitresses moving between tables.

  “I didn’t know there was a restaurant here,” he said.

  Arthur studied the people on the balcony despite the disadvantageous angle of their approach.

  The consigliere led them up a set of stairs with glass partition railings keeping them on the sweeping ascent. There were guards, but they were less obvious. Kevin had little experience with surveillance systems but thought some of the windows and light fixtures were cameras.

  The restaurant had a bar and a bartender that looked like he could break up a bar fight or conduct a contract killing with equal ease. Many of the people dining were young and beautiful, dressed in stylish clothing. Others were older and doted on what had to be their adult children or grandchildren.

  And always in the background, there were quiet men Kevin assumed were bodyguards and enforcers.

  The consigliere led them around to a balcony opening toward another of the large transit station plazas. Spread out beyond the balcony was a room with a ceiling a hundred feet high. A single young woman swam in the Olympic-sized swimming pool below.

  Kevin wished his brother wasn’t watching the young woman with such interest but admitted that he was doing the same thing. Worried that Raf was about to have them executed for looking at his girlfriend, Kevin faced the man across the large table.

  Raf continue to eat. Two bodyguards stood behind him. None of the waitresses or waiters entered the room. Bodyguards delivered the food.

  “Nathan, my consigliere, has reviewed your proposal. Thank you for putting it in writing,” Raf said.

  Kevin looked at his brother, knowing his brother could read and write but doubting he was literate enough to create a formal contract.

  “What you are asking is not easily done. Do you think I have been off of this planet?” Raf asked, eating something small with a precise fork movement after he asked the question.

  Kevin realized the man was waiting for an answer. He wanted to look at his brother and confer with him, even if it was just a glance, but dared not show weakness in front of the crime lord. Bile churned in his stomach as he imagined Grandfather Brandon facing this man down, fighting his way past the guards on his way out.

  The sound of silence was awkward. Raf waited for an answer, pausing in the middle of his meal, his only expression that of coldness. The consigliere and the bodyguards showed no emotion. They seemed alert and ready for violence but also just a touch bored.

  “Neither one of you wants to talk?” Raf asked.

  Kevin looked at his brother, then back to the crime lord. “We have a brother and sister who are twins.”

  “Yes, I know. Ace and Amanda-Margaret. Delightful double first name. Makes your sister a prim little doll.” He lowered his fork and knife at last, wiped his hands on a napkin, and took a sip of wine with only the briefest glance away from Kevin. “The loss of your siblings is of great concern to us. I am well informed that the police are doing all they can to find them. Such as it is. I can have my people look as well. Is that why you came to me?”

  “Your concern is very generous. Thank you for thinking of our family,” Kevin said.

  “Is that all that you came for? Surely there’s something more. Your brother, surprisingly silent, much more so than I thought he would be after his message and the contract and all of the trouble he went through to arrange this meeting, doesn’t have something to say?”

  Kevin resisted the urge to look away from Raf.

  “Why don’t you talk to me?” Raf asked, facing his attention on Arthur.

  “Yes, Mr. Raf,” Arthur said.

  Kevin had never heard his brother at a loss for words. The experience made him sick to his stomach. His brother was fearless and ready to back up any threat or argument with force. Seeing him pale before a middle-aged, overdressed man wearing too many rings shook Kevin’s world at the foundation.

  “A word from you is more than enough. My brother and I thank you for your help and for your concern,” Kevin said.

  “Well,” Raf said. “This has been an expensive interview for the two of you. But I like what I see, Kevin. Your services will be valuable, I think.”

  He faced his brother and balled his fists as he tried not to start a fight right here in front of the leader of the criminal underground. Wasted effort had been a cardinal sin to not only his grandfather, but his father. Staying calm was futile.

  Kevin and his brother lost control at the same moment.

  “What did you do?” Kevin asked.

  “I can speak for you. It’s the law,” Arthur said.

  Kevin was vaguely aware of Raf wincing at the bone-crunching sound of their initial clash and equally aware that Nathan, the consigliere, expressed no emotion at all. The impression was brief. Fighting his brother never went well. Kevin was fast and tough but so was his brother, who was also stronger and meaner.

  Arthur dove forward to tackle him. Kevin sidestepped and sprawled at the same time to defend against the take down. Bouncing back to his feet a second later, he sidestepped again, deflected a stiff left jab, and countered with a right hook using his height and reach to his advantage.

  Like always, the first minute or two promised Kevin’s victory. Then Arthur got mad and turned into a raging berserker with the strength of three strong men.

  “These boys should be working for me, don’t you think?” Raf asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Nathan said. “I will see to it.”

  8

  Recruiting Station

  KEVIN wasn’t sure how much time passed before he blacked out. Blotchy memories of his brother choking him and banging his head on the marble floor delivered mixed evidence of his victory and defeat.

  Arthur spat blood from a busted lip as he yelled downward — feet in a wide stance, fists clenched tight, red fluid describing his teeth in stark relief. “You can never be him! Get off your high horse and do what you have to do!”

  Kevin twisted his hips right, then left with an upward thrust as he shoved his brother off balance. Without wasting time, he scrambled to his feet, scraping blood from his face with the back of his hand and shaking stars from his vision at the expense of stabbing pain in his head.

  Crying in rage, frustration, and humiliation, he cursed his brother. “Not today or tomorrow, but someday. You’ll never be half as good as Grandfather Brandon.”

  Arthur went still and stood with his hands clenched at his side. He lowered his voice. “I was talking about our father.”

  “I hate you,” Kevin said after Arthur knocked him to the ground again.

  “You have embarrassed me for the last time. Do you know what you’ve done?”

  The sound of Raf’s laughter sounded miles away when Kevin realized his brother had tears in his eyes, not from the same emotion. He saw a violent tremor in his brother’s fists, tried to calm him, but it was too late. Backing away, he k
new he had made a mistake.

  “Arthur, hey. Snap out of it,” Kevin said as he backed up.

  His brother rushed forward.

  Raf went silent and sat up a little straighter to watch.

  Guards moved hands closer to guns and Nathan quietly shifted between the conflict and his boss.

  “I used every favor I had to get us here. Don’t you care about Amanda? Don’t you? What kind of man are you?”

  Kevin retreated. He had never seen his brother like this, never heard any man in Building 595 express this kind of unholy fury. When the fists fell, he could barely slow them. With his arms wrapped around his own head for protection, he let Arthur drag him back the way they had come.

  The girl in the pool stood nearly naked, watching them. Water ran across her flat stomach and dripped from her body. He weathered a storm of physical abuse like he never imagined, focusing on the young blond woman like she was his guardian angel, capable of saving him with a touch of light.

  He had fought with his brother since they were old enough to walk.

  Never had his brother brutalized him. Even when he lost, it was a near thing. This time, he survived only because it ended as quickly as it had begun.

  Arthur calmed as they approached the stairs. He walked without looking back for Kevin, who dusted himself off and followed with a hurt scowl on his face.

  That will never happen again, he thought.

  Halfway across the large public room with the old banners and loitering enforcers, he realized more and more of Raf’s soldiers were following.

  “Arthur,” he said.

  “I see them,” his brother said without looking back. “Why do you think I did that?” His voice hitched in the middle of the last word like he might vomit or scream. “We have to get out of here. He wouldn’t just let us go after your little stunt. Shut your mouth. Do what I say and I will find a place to hide while I make another deal.”