I watched in fascination as a bright, jagged, orange seam opened up in the side of the main tower, starting at the bottom and streaking up. As the tear widened, gouts of flaming liquid jetted out of the steel tower, pouring onto the spot where the Bronco had stopped for us. When the jetting flame reached the top of the column, the entire top opened up like a kernel of popcorn. It inverted itself and came apart in large pieces. A thick pillar of flame shot into the sky and spread out like a brilliant orange and yellow mushroom. I watched several large sheets of flaming steel separate from the main section and drop towards the row of storage tanks in the northeast corner. I could see the shock wave heading straight for us.
The storage tanks went off like a string of massive firecrackers, only moments between each burst, and those columns of fire joined the main one, burning their way towards the heavens. The remaining two towers of the facility, north of the main one, went off simultaneously, seams rupturing and the tops popping off in unison. The shockwave looked like a hazy, orange storm front racing towards the back of the Bronco.
“Cool,” I said, enthralled.
Natalia looked into the rearview mirror and yelled “Hang on!”
I covered my face, and Mag dropped down as the shock-wave hit and the back window shattered. Shards of glass peppered everyone like confetti, and I felt a few cuts open and blood trickle down my face. Another bounce of the Bronco sent me ricocheting around inside the cabin, prompting another round of laughter from me like a kid on a roller coaster. With the major explosions behind us, Natalia slowed down to a more reasonable speed, and we rolled over a desert floor still brightly illuminated by the raging fires of VeniCorp.
“How long have you known it was me?” Natalia finally asked, her voice muffled slightly by the Ghillie mask.
“I was pretty sure that night in the alley behind VeniCorp.”
Xen turned his head and gave me a truly hateful look. “How could you?”
“I had my reasons, Xen. I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
Xen turned towards the front and didn’t move. His shoulders were as tense as Natalia’s must have been. It was strangely quiet, considering what they’d gone through.
“You two can stop being mad at each other, you know,” I offered. Both of them snapped their heads at me, Xen glaring and, although I couldn’t see it in behind the goggles, Natalia must have been too.
“He had no choice but to fake his death, Natalia,” I touched the nerve on purpose.
“Yeah,” Xen accused.
“You could have told me! I could have helped!” she yelled at him.
“But he had no idea if you were using him or not, Natalia. Put yourself in his shoes. He’s seen enough spy movies to know that beautiful women generally don’t go for the underdogs … no offense, Xen … and I know for a fact he is still amazed that you fell for him. He had no choice.”
Natalia’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“And you had to have seen me at VeniCorp!” Xen accused heatedly. “You could have let me know you were alive!”
“Xen,” I said gently. “She did see you. No doubt. But put yourself in her shoes. She’s got a job do to, and Albert here took them underground. If she’s dead, then neither DiMarco nor Pyotr are looking for her. She had no choice … Right, Albert?” I asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“That’s correct,” Albert said, staring at me, an impressed look on his face. “For what it’s worth, Mister Li, she even asked. I could not permit it.”
“You two did exactly the same thing to each other for exactly the same reason. You had no choice. Xen …” I prompted.
“What? I’m still pissed at you. You could have mentioned something to me. You knew all along! You said so. I was in agony!”
Natalia’s head turned when he said that. I saw her hand start to reach out to Xen and then pull back.
“I’m always calculating, Xen. You know that. What if you’d gotten caught and been forced to roll her over? Besides, I figured we’d probably have this exact conversation at some point. I did it so that both of you would know that you each did what you had to, did it to each other and that neither of you had a choice. The score’s even, if you think about it. You both know I’m right.” I let that hang there between them for a minute, but the silence carried on.
“So … when we pull up to the black Audi parked out here somewhere, I expect you to get out of this heap, kiss, and make up. You hear me?”
They stayed silent, but the tension that had filled the space between them grew softer as they pondered the circumstances.
“There is one question I have, Natalia.”
“You mean you don’t know everything?” she asked a bit curtly.
“Not by a long-shot … although placing the bug under the kitchen counter was very smooth.” Natalia and Albert both looked at me with astonished faces. “No. What I couldn’t figure out was how you managed to pick up my trail at Grady’s from the get-go. You and I had never been there, and I don’t recall mentioning it. Xen, did you ever talk about Grady’s?”
“Not that I recall.”
“There were several Grady’s t-shirts in Rachel’s closet as well as the one I slept in. I took a chance.”
I smiled. “Clever.”
A black Audi came into view at the bottom of an abandoned rock quarry.
***
Santa Claus
Kenny stepped through the door, holding a tray of sicklys and some fritters.
“So what’s going to happen with you and Natalia,” Rachel asked from beside me as we reclined on one of the plush, new, burgundy sofas.
“She said she had some travelling to do,” Xen replied. “She did say that when she got back we’d be together.” Xen had a most appealing smile on his face as he sat across from us.
“Glad to hear it, Xen,” I smiled at him. He’d forgiven me for my deception about Natalia almost immediately.
I leaned forward and looked around the room. The walls had been stripped and the carpet torn out. All of the functional gambling tables, TVs, and decorations were stacked up and covered with drop cloths in a far corner out of the way while the work continued. I couldn’t smell any gasoline, and the bloodstains had been eradicated from the concrete floor. I faced the back of the parlor watching drywall workers come in and out with their equipment. Rachel sat next to me while Marsha and Xen reclined on the sofa opposite us.
“Looks like Stanley has things well in hand,” I observed, taking the sickly Kenny handed me. I took a sip and placed it on the coffee table.
“He’s been great,” Marsha remarked, sipping a cup of tea and looking over her shoulder at the parlor. She scratched at the gray triage unit I had put on her thigh when I’d gotten home. Xen had one, too, but he sat on his. The triage units would have them stitched up and back in shape by the following morning.
Kenny added, “It’s too bad those vandals broke in and trashed the place.”
I smiled at Kenny’s innocence. “Sure is, Kenny. It’s terrible. I’m glad the insurance company is willing to pay for it all. It would have cost Marsha a fortune, especially with all the renovations and upgrades I keep hearing about.” I looked at her with a pained smile.
Dryly, she said, “Yes, I have a very special insurance agent. Totally understanding. It’s almost as if he feels responsible.”
Kenny wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. “Do you need anything else, Marsha? It’s pretty busy up front.”
“No, thanks. You can go on back. I’ll call you if we need anything else.”
Kenny stepped up to the door and then stopped, turning quickly. “Hey, Justin! Did you hear? Abby bought a winning lottery ticket?” Marsha and Rachel looked at each other but didn’t react otherwise. “And on the same day Abby’s car got stolen … What luck!”
“No, I hadn’t heard, Kenny,” I said smiling. “Marsha!” I threw her a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?” I added in a hurt tone.
With a sardonic grin, she said, “I’m su
re I told you. You must not have been paying any attention. You know how distracted you can get.”
“Of course,” I said and snapped my fingers. “That must be it.”
“Tell her congratulations for me, would you, Kenny?”
“Sure!” Kenny turned back to the door and saw Abbey standing there.
“You can tell me yourself, Mister …” she broke off and then corrected herself, “Justin.” I stood up and faced her. She had the most wonderful smile. “Would you excuse us, Kenny?” she asked.
“Sure. I have to get up front anyway. See ya.” He closed the door on the way out. Her eyes grew rosy, and I could see tears forming. She slowly walked up to me, wrapped her arms around me and gave me a gigantic hug. She put her lips to my ear, whispering, “You saved us. I was about at the end of my rope. I can’t thank you enough.”
I hugged her back and whispered, “Just don’t tell anybody, okay? And make sure he keeps painting. Do that and I’ll consider us even. It’ll be our little secret.” She nodded as we let go and stepped away, tears running down her cheeks. “I have to get to work, but it was good to see you, Justin. I wanted to stop in and say hi.” She walked out, and as the door closed I sat back down.
Xen, Rachel, and Marsha stared at me, grinning like crazy.
“What?” I scowled at them, my cheeks turning red. “Nobody say a word.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Rachel said, placing her hand on my knee and squeezing.
Marsha tried to control herself, “Of course we wouldn’t …” but she lost the battle … “Santa Claus!” Everyone laughed except me, and my cheeks got even redder.
***
Breakfast at the Rio
O’Neil sat across from me in the Rio Grande Café south of San Diego. He’d already polished off most of his pancakes, eggs, and bacon, with a second order of bacon on the way.
I’d picked him up in my T-Rex auto-cycle, a low-slung, two seat three wheeler with a roof and a sportbike engine. I had bought it two years prior as a perfect highway vehicle when I needed to go fast, corner hard, and avoid people chasing me. I’d chosen it that morning in celebration of the T-Rex case being blown sky high … literally. The auto-cycle didn’t have doors, so it had been difficult for us to talk on the way down. This was also part of my master plan. I had already downed my own breakfast of huevos rancheros and a double order of bacon.
Over breakfast I’d related most of the significant facts to O’Neil so he’d have everything he needed to put together the case against Shao and all of the dry cleaner operators. Xen had already sent all of the data he’d copied from Shao’s computer, and I provided the pictures from the whole facility by way of my goggles.
“I should still be pissed at you, by the way,” O’Neil said around his last mouthful of pancakes.
I was genuinely confused. “Why’s that? You’re a hero.” I poured six packets of sugar into a fresh cup of coffee and stirred it, staring at O’Neil.
“You never mentioned blowing up half of the California desert as part of your plan. I played hell covering that for you. We’re blaming it all on Russian gangsters. The two tons of coke and meth in that giant safe made things easier, though. A lot of it had been melted and charred, but still identifiable.”
“Me? There you go again always blaming everything on me.” I gave him a hurt look, and he paid it back with an I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look. Then he drank some coffee. “I’d never tell this inadmissible information to Captain O’Neil, but as your friend, I can assure you, Mister Smarty Pants, that I know with absolute certainty that Gino DiMarco is the one who set off that explosion.”
O’Neil’s disbelief was palpable. “Yeah … sure he did.”
“No, really. I wasn’t even in the building.…” I took another sip of coffee and added three more packets of sugar. “It’s not my fault he opened the door of his limousine. I mean, sure … I did cover the floor with flammable liquids, and I also put the motion sensing explosive by the door, but he’s the one who filled the building with all that stuff in the first place. He was reckless … and irresponsible. And I’d warned him to stay in the car. Had he done like I asked, he’d be fine … maybe.” I took another sip of now perfect coffee.
“So, how’d you find out about this place?” he asked, changing the subject as his second order of bacon arrived. “Come here often? It seems a little out of the way.”
I got a knowing smile on my face. I loved it when my plans worked out exactly the way I wanted them to. “Funny you should ask. An abatement guy told me about this place. Weird guy. He’s into all sorts of stuff. He’s a clown, you know.”
“Real crack-up, hunh?” He took a healthy bite of bacon.
“No. He’s an actual clown … make-up, funny nose, the works.”
O’Neil’s face looked confused around the bacon. “I thought you said he was an abatement guy.”
“He is … Stanley Fast Abatement Services.” I waited.
O’Neil paused, his fork hovering between mouth and plate. “Wait … Stanley Fast? As in Stanley Fast Catering and Clowning?”
“That’s him,” I confirmed, nodding.
Recognition spread across O’Neil’s face. “I know that guy … he did a birthday party for a friend of my youngest. Good food.”
“He does both … and more,” I added subtly. “Well, apparently he comes down here every now and again … part of one of his side jobs. He knows this pig farmer. They work together sometimes. Stanley said this place had the best bacon he’d ever eaten.” O’Neil took a big bite of bacon, clearly enjoying it. “So … how do you like it?” I asked, preparing to drop my bomb.
“You know, Stanley’s right. This is the best damn bacon I ever had. So, you said you were gonna tell me what happened to Bennie DiMarco.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I said snapping my fingers and grinning wickedly.
I proceeded to tell O’Neil of Bennie’s demise. And then I told him how Bennie could very well have ended up on O’Neil’s plate. O’Neil stared at me with bland disdain, but he didn’t stop chewing, partially out of pride. I knew he’d be damned if he was going to let me get the best of him. I waited for what I knew was coming next.
“I hate you Case,” he said around a mouthful of the best bacon he’d ever had.
“I know,” I said, sipping my sickly sweet coffee.
***
Malice on the Rocks
A gust of wind sends ice crystals hissing across the canopy. Watching my killer’s hand descend towards the actuator, I think about that cup of coffee with O’Neil … about that bacon. I think about Rachel and Xen and Mexico.
It’s funny. The next part of this whole story started in a town not far from that diner, only a handful of miles past the Mexican border. It was even O’Neil who sent me there. Then something pops into my head that I didn’t expect. There was only one question about home I ever really wanted answered. And this guy is the only one who might be able to answer it for me.
“Wait,” I say. I look at him, one killer to another.
His hand pauses, and he smiles. He’s enjoying the game.
“What now?” he asks.
“What happened to Hallex?” We both know I’m trying to buy time. “What did they do to my father?”
He laughs, and it’s a wicked thing. I dread the answer, but I need to know. “He’s still alive,” he says, and his smile is a grim line of malice. “In a pain station.”
An agony of emotions tears at my insides—regret, guilt, a litany of helpless rage.
I sure as hell didn’t want to go out this way.
***
About the Author
Quincy J. Allen, a cross-genre author, has been published in multiple anthologies, magazines, and one omnibus. Chemical Burn (http://www.amazon.com/Chemical-Burn-End-Game-ebook/dp/B008EMEHTQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341797014&sr=8-1&keywords=chemical+burn), a finalist in the RMFW Colorado Gold Contest, is his first full novel. He made his first pro-sale in 2014 with the story
“Jimmy Krinklepot and the White Rebs of Hayberry,” included in WordFire’s A Fantastic Holiday Season: The Gift of Stories (http://www.amazon.com/Fantastic-Holiday-Season-Gift-Stories-ebook/dp/B00OBT9B60/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1413318109&sr=8-1&keywords=fantastic+holiday+season+a+gift+of+stories). He’s written for the Internet show RadioSteam (http://radiosteam.com/), and his first short story collection Out Through the Attic (http://www.amazon.com/Out-Through-Attic-Quincy-Allen-ebook/dp/B00KVR06XS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1406487324&sr=8-1&keywords=out+through+the+attic), came out in 2014 from 7DS Books. His military sci-fi novel Rise of the Thermopylae is due out in 2015 from Twisted Core Press, and Jake Lasater: Blood Ties, a steampunk western fantasy novel, is also due out in 2015.
He works part-time as a tech-writer by day, does book design and eBook conversions for WordFire Press by night, and lives in a cozy house in Colorado that he considers his very own sanctuary—think Batcave, but with fewer flying mammals and more sunlight.
You can follow his travails at:
quincyallen.com
facebook.com/Quincy.Allen.Author
twitter.com/Quincy_J_Allen
***
Chemical Burn Page 42