Fernando was enraged now, he started cursing Tset in Italian.
Tset watched him for a second or two, realizing the man was just that, a man, with brothers, who he'd lost.
Then he remembered Don and Tyler and Jessie. Their glassy eyes and silent mouths. Had their killers been in league with the Corneos? Not Jess's, but Don and Tyler? And Tristram? What would Tset do if he lost Tristram?
Tset suddenly did not care to find out. His backhand tossed Fernando sideways. He was blinking and shaking his head, unable to focus his eyes.
Tset's teeth ground, this man had no right to speak or live, "You lost brothers? You think I care? What about my brother, here?" He indicated Tristram with a sweep of his hand, Tristram gulped, this was a sudden change of attitude, no longer cool, "What do you care of my brothers? Ah?"
When Tset brought his hand back, the gangster winced. "What do you think I think of you and your low-rent Pesci fucking brothers?" Tset was yelling now. Jess's loss he'd never felt fully - it had always been dull. Tyler's and Don's had dulled a bit, too, over the last hour. But now they were back, full force, their unreversible magnitude making Tset more angry and more frustrated and sad than he could ever have remembered feeling.
Tset spit on the ground to indicate his earlier statement, stepped forward and kicked a field goal.
Fernando spent the balance of the decade in a coma, and the rest of his life totally paralyzed.
That night, Tset and Tristram were at The Dank, a dance club, drinking Tset into a stupor. He never came down from where he'd been when he kicked Fernando, he was agitated, restless, angry, and he didn't like it. It was too easy to imagine making a mistake.
He accepted Tristram's invitation to go and 'cool down' with him. It had been a long day. Tset was beginning to feel like he would need some free-based Nyquil to shut an eye and get some sleep - he was terribly riled.
But he pounded down beer after beer after beer. He needed something to distract him. His immediate choice, walking into any large Corneo establishment and slaughtering everything that drew breath or bled, would be one of the mistakes he'd thought about.
This was why he was drinking enough beer to drown an orca. Unfortunately, even a pudding-thick lager couldn't get his adrenals to cut out at this moment. He needed something to dig his hands into, preferably something that had crossed him.
But, in his thinking, he realized the Corneos were just an immediate target. Who was it behind Don and Tyler?
Tset knew it wouldn't be constructive to kill the Corneos. He knew that. It would not bring him closer to the closure he suddenly found himself ravenous for.
'But it sure will feel good.' He slammed back another beer, and slammed it again against the tabletop - this, the waitress had learned, was an indication for another round. Tristram sat in mild awe of the trash can Tset had gotten dragged over he had now filled with empties.
And only three trips to the bathroom.
Tset looked angrily around the bar. Pinball? Uninteresting. Pool? Not the time for it. Stronger alcohols? Too expensive, not enough. He metabolized alcohol instantly. Dancing? Not with those meth heads.
Then, he saw it; a smiling, suave individual next to a leggy blonde girl. He caught it, that smell, above the odors of bathroom, dance-induced sweat, stale alcohol - dry-mouthed, empty.
A vampire. Picking up on some prey.
Tset thought he could clear out some of his more general vindictiveness, maybe, by concentrating it on the destruction of one foul being, so, without a word, he picked up his beer and sat down next to the girl, on the opposite side from the vampire.
The vamp's eyes flicked to him, but then wrote him off, the girl didn't even notice, she was mesmerized.
Tset laughed at something the vampire had said, and began to engage him in conversation.
The vampire was slightly put off, but assumed Tset to be a well-dressed drunkard and possibly a good follow up course to the amazing blonde he would take first.
'What am I on about? Oh yes, opera.' "Tomorrow night they do have a reproduction of Pourquis Non? I would like to get tickets to, if you'll accompany me."
The girl, glassy-eyed and staring, happy, said, "I would love to go!"
Tset held his hand out around the girl, to the vampire, interrupting the ritual, "Name's Dargent, by the way," Who knew the Tset persona? "You a bit of a aesthetic, yeah?"
The vampire smiled, "Yes, well I did go to Juilliard."
The girl seemed more impressed, somehow. Tset was sickened. "Oh, that's surprising."
The vampire laughed charmingly, like tinkling syrupy chimes, "Why's that?" The vampire was now engaged with Tset and his hold on the girl was weakening. It was Tset's own unconscious hypnotic effect on his own prey as well as the challenge that edged his voice.
"If you told me you'd gone to kindergarten I'd be surprised."
The vampire was shocked. "What?"
"You heard me, you're an idiot, trying to show off to some chick in a bar. What's your name, by the way, darlin'?" Tset leaned close to her. The girl tittered - in addition to hypnotism, the vampire was using expensive drinks to do her in. She said, "Starlet, it's my mom's name for me."
Tset smiled, "That's a nice name. I'm still Dargent. Who's he?" He indicated the vampire, smoothly blocking him out of the conversation before the predator had time to react.
She looked thoughtful, "You know, he never told me his name."
"Oh," He leaned in, "He's suspicious, you wanna come hang out with me at my booth?"
She whispered back, now aware of being worried by her previous courtier's air - he was angry now, and this broke his spell.
Tset and the girl moved off and he could feel the vampire's glare on his back.
They sat down next to Tristram. Tristram was visibly impressed by Tset's new guest.
They talked, Tristram and Starlet hit it off well and Tset faded into the background, though he was close enough to touch without effort.
Soon he excused himself 'to have a cigarette,' made sure the vampire was still watching him, the dumbfoundation and hate had distilled to just hate, and Tset was glad.
Outside, in the alley to the side of the club, Tset was hidden. The vampire walked right into his trap and was rocked by pain as Tset, from behind, drove a silver railway spike through his heart and twisted his head backwards. The body jerked while Tset cradled its chin. It was still soon, twitches fading to naught, and Tset laid it to the snow.
Tset finished his cigarette before heading back inside. He felt charged, but relaxed. Or rather, at ease.
Tset took off his coat and laid it over the back of his seat as he sat down next to Starlet again, she and Tristram were having a chocolate malt.
He put his hands on the table in front of him, there was a dime-sized blot of blood on his cuff. Starlet gave a small, "Oh!" And started wiping at it with a table napkin. Tset noticed it just as Tristram did. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's too cold outside - frost gave me a nose bleed." He smiled apologetically and used his pocket hanky to dab at it.
Tristram remembered Tset wasn't the type to get a nosebleed unless you shot him in the face, and looked to where the vampire had been. The empty seat at the bar told all. He looked to Tset and Tset looked up from his dabbing, that smirk back on his face where it belonged.
Tset eventually just rolled up his sleeves, exposing slim, powerfully-corded forearms.
He talked with Starlet and Tristram a few minutes more, laid down some jokes, complimented Tristram on various things, and then took his leave, swinging his coat over his shoulders and bidding them good night.
Tristram looked up, "You all good man?"
Tset smiled, "Yeah, taking care of business cools me off."
It was twelve past twelve when Tset pushed out of the large industrial swinging doors of The Dank.
The next morning, after a solid ten hour snore, Tset received an SMS from Hal.
*****
Geoffrey is requesting your help at a target's home in Uptown. Will y
ou assist?
*****
"Shit! Again?" Tset mentally counted off how many friends he had. He guessed next it would be Francois. He jammed his phone with his thumbs:
I'll assist!
He waited, for the longest sixty seconds he'd so far experienced. And then:
This is the address:
10001 Rue Du Helmut
10001 Rue Du Helmut
NF, GE 5R4 17Y
Aside from Geoffrey there is another operative there. His status is un-known at this time and he may have been injured. He is one of our best snipers - Yakuza trained Englishman. Bring them both back alive and show no quarter to hostiles.
The mission parameters are not exactly known by me at this time. Godspeed.
-Hal
Tset was dressed in seconds - solid black, silks, both silenced pistols underneath his jacket.
He was on his bike and away towards the New France Sector so fast he could have flown from his window, he didn't even have time to think about the hazy description he'd gotten.
When he pulled up the beige-colored gravel drive, he saw the Bentley there.
The sun was up and the birds chirruped pleasantly in the cool air. The house itself was on a hill overlooking a forested valley. More large houses of this one's type dotted the hills, with little roads leading to and fro just barely visible through the treetops.
It was about 11AM and no one was stirring. Tset made his way carefully to the door and peeked in through a side window. No movement.
He picked the locks carefully with his ID - which actually did double as a magnetic tumbler and, aside from hacking and opening cardlocked doors, also could get Tset through a padlock if he was trying to be quiet and didn't use either of his higher-caliber keys.
The lock popped. Too loud. Tset winced but eased the door open anyway. It tried to creak, but he was gentle then and the noise didn't travel.
He pulled both pistols and strode inside, and, in front of the rear window, bathed in sunlight, was a corpse, hanging from a noose tied to a chandelier.
Tset heard a step behind him and spun, both pistols ready.
The other man carried a large sniper rifle and sported a grey woolen suit with a driving cap on his thinning silver hair.
"Why, hello." Said the man.
Tset didn't relax - the tightly wound muscles hummed like halyards in a high wind. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Haley. I'm here on a mission. I presume you're the help Geoffrey sent for?"
Tset now relaxed, only slightly, he nodded. "Yeah, that would be me."
Haley smiled, "Well," He pointed to the body, "You'll see the job's already done."
Tset turned, so did the corpse. It was a woman. He holstered his guns. "Good to know you- GAK!" The heavy-caliber rifle shot carried Tset across the room - punching through his spine and out his stomach.
He was on his back. He played dead, time to think. He couldn't think. Time to act.
He waited until Haley turned to address the microphone he had in his shirtsleeve, informing his superiors that the target was neutralized.
Seven .45 caliber slugs made him change his mind. Tset stood up, his back was sticky and so were his thighs and groin. That shot, at that range, had done some serious damage. He checked for holes. They'd closed.
He walked over to Haley, the eyes were still open. The man spoke, "It's a tad bit chilly, cabby?"
Haley had been shredded by the hollowpoints. Tset shot him in the face before the eyes even dimmed.
Now, time to find Geoffrey.
He went outside. And there he was, Geoffrey, clean, pressed, standing next to the Bentley. A look of mild surprise registered, and then he said, coolly, "You're not who I expected."
"What's going on Geoffrey? I got your distress signal through Hal, came over here, and got backshot by some crazy English bastard with a rifle larger 'n his ego."
Geoffrey shrugged, and wondered how Haley had missed. Maybe Tset was faster than rumor? It would explain how he'd advanced so quickly and lived this long.
Geoffrey sighed, he had sort of really liked Tset. "I'm sorry, Tset." The 9mm in his hand went off. Tset felt a sting. He looked down to where his body armor had been damaged and was closing up. He pulled his pistol. Ambush; and Geoffrey was part of it.
"Drop the fucking weapon Geoffrey! Tell me what's going on!"
Geoffrey, his rheumy eyes missing the hole he'd made, assumed he'd missed entirely and fired a better aimed shot. Tset fired better still and struck Geoffrey in the shoulder.
Tset had not aimed to kill. But those hollowpoints, there wasn't much to be done.
Geoffrey's arm hung on by his expensive Rooks Brothers' jacket. He fell to his knees, and slumped forward.
Tset glowered at his pistol, "Shit!"
He pulled his phone while pulling off his jacket to bandage Geoffrey. A man's voice came over the line, "Tset? This is the emergency hardline number. What's happening? Are you distressed?" No. Not a man. A Man.
"Hal! Dammit! I'm out here in New France! I've been ambushed!"
"France? What are you doing out there? We have no targets registered out there."
Tset paused, lifting his blood-soaked hand from wadding his jacket into the gaping hole in Geoffrey. "Tset?"
"What did you say?"
Hal repeated, impatiently, "There are no missions registered out there."
Tset couldn't think, "What?"
"No, you explain just what you're doing out there using the emergency line."
"I got your SMS this morning, telling me Geoffrey was in trouble, along with an English operative, I responded. I was ambushed and shot by both Geoffrey and the sniper. They exercised extreme prejudice and both waited until after I introduced myself."
"Get back to HQ. Brief us here. You're out of time, there are Spanish Federal Agents on their way right now."
"Spanish?"
"Old enemies of Haliburton. Someone's playing you, Tset. Get. Out."
Tset's phone audibly snapped when it closed. He heard Geoffrey cough and rolled him over, then he asked, "Geoffrey, why?"
Geoffrey laughed. "You're an idiot."
Tset was unnerved. And angry.
He stood and was running to his bike when he thought better of it, came back, and pulled his jacket out of Geoffrey. It was ruined, but he needed it for something else. He stuffed Geoffrey into the car, in the passenger's side. "What are you doing?" Croaked the traitor. Tset ignored him. He tore a strip of jacket with his teeth, a dry strip, while he turned the car around.
A car marked Los Federales, in fact, five of them, were roaring up the road towards the house. They dipped under a rise in the road and he lost sight of them momentarily. He wasn't visible where he was, they'd have to get right on top of him to get any sort of ID.
Tset engaged the parking brake and got out of the car. He used the strip of jacket he'd torn and his whisky to create a fuse to the gas tank.
Once that was in place, and lit, he strolled to the front of the car and dragged Geoffrey behind the wheel.
Before he got out, he put Geoffrey's foot down on the clutch and used an ornamental driveway brick, wrested from the mortar, to push the throttle all the way in and hold it.
He reached past Geoffrey and disengaged the parking brake.
Over the over-revving engine, he yelled, "Good bye! Maybe one day I'll know what you were up to!" Geoffrey looked frightened as the Feds started shooting at them both. Tset tipped a wink and then ran for his motorcycle just as the Los Federales came over the last rise in the drive. They were fifty feet away.
Geoffrey's rolling car suddenly bucked and shot forward into the massed Feds - Geoffrey had died, and released the clutch.
The explosion was a hot and huge and launched the Bentley back into the house, narrowly missing Tset and ending up in the living room. The flames spread quickly.
Tset threw a leg over his steed and righted her, glancing to his side - the driveway was blocked by a number of flaming cars and dancing, bur
ning Federales.
So Tset went off the hill and into the woods.
The bike was hard to keep steady, or in a semblance of steady and Tset rushed for a part of the road where he thought there would be no pursuers to see him.
He hit the lip of a ditch, cleared one of the brown cars and hit the cement.
His bike did not like this and the handlebars wobbled and the engine coughed. Tset was hit in the elbow with a pistol shot and the handlebars wobbled more still until his wound closed - he had no use of his left hand for a brief second.
He steadied the bars, and pulled out his cell phone. Spanish agents had no right to operate inside The City without warrants. And they would never get warrants to kill. Even in the Uptown sectors. It needed to be GE Feds.
He rang the GE Feds then, gave the address, gave a vague description of the situation, gave his name, and told the switchboard to inform Captain Larry of who it was. He didn't know Larry's last name, but the switchboard probably did, there was only a slight hesitation.
"Bye-bye now."
He hung up despite the half-voiced protest. He had to get to Haliburton.
On his way from Uptown, he was passed by speeding, sirened vans loaded with SWAT members and several helicopters flew overhead. The helicopters had large automatics strapped under the cockpits, none of them paid him any mind, despite the fact that he was speeding and had jinked into the wrong lane and into the face of oncoming traffic to avoid them, and despite two massive pistols in holsters on his chest and very illegally silenced. Maybe Larry buzzed them off?
This was obviously Larry's squad - the numbering on the vans was familiar. He would make a good ally with response time and firepower like this.
Either way, the Spanish were going to have a lot of explaining to do. Especially considering they were the only Spaniards in the place, and considering they were plainclothes.
Tset smiled to himself. Whatever the Spanish had against him, it would be augmented. Served them right.
Wight Page 14