by Aies Jay
-Motherfucker.
He’s not even hesitating, just stipulating facts.
-We do all the nasty. You’re just playing backup and muscles.
Teeth adds. Brute finally nods after a small snorting.
-I’m in, but I want my usual rate.
-1000 up front and 500 a day, plus expenses?
Teeth asks. Brute nods, pleased to hear the numbers.
-That’s the one.
I try not to roll my eyes. As far as I know that’s fairly cheap. But that’s why people hire mercs instead of cowboys. Cowboys usually just look at the most wanted bulletin boards and work through them, but if not, they’re expensive as hell, rates ranging as far as 10 000 a day for the quick and dirty jobs as far as I’ve heard. Brute leans over my Gate, bringing a smell of a bad stomach and mint candy on his breath.
-Who’s our guy, then?
I click about, showing him the picture of the pale, fairly young man with the dyed hair and the odd suit, clicking on as I go about showing him what we’re up to.
-This is the man. Gereld Ferguson. Shitty little rich prick, as far as I can tell he’s a nugger and an intellectual so no worries. He can be armed, though. Lives here, for now, only one person in his room and so far no visitors registered in the hotel log. Teeth’s plan is we go there, pin him, make him talk and sell out his compadres in a way they can’t escape and possibly give us more evidence.
-Hotel staff?
-We put a “do not disturb” on the door. He seems the solitary type plus his work here is foul shit, he won’t want to be seen too much anyway.
-How do we go about? There will be cameras.
I grin arrogantly.
-Already taken care of. I got a nice little bug I already gave a hot trial run a few days ago. I’ve firmed it up and set a timer on it. As the clock hits point, you go in, having a two minute long window.
He frowns.
-Two minutes is nothing. What the hell do I do to get him to open the door in that tiny window?
Teeth huffs.
-Two minutes is enough. We got a fool proof idea on how to get in anyway.
-“We”? Teeth, this was your brilliance, first and last, don’t be modest.
I chide and the man grins, giving our second version of the thing we did at the Chinese restaurant.
-We knock on the door and say we have an urgent message from one of his co-filth in the plan. The little rat will be so spooked he’ll rip the door right open. We go in and start slapping before he knows what hit him.
Brute tips his head a little.
-Good plan. And when we’re done with him?
-We kill him. When he’s said it all, he’s gone.
Teeth says, doubtlessly. I say nothing. If I ever had any second thoughts about killing this guy they’ve vanished. If we let him go, he’ll never see justice. This is a rich man. He buys his own justice. How to get to the other two might become a problem but we’ll get to them in time, that’s for damn sure, one way or another, if society won’t do it for us we’ll do it ourselves somehow. The big man body mod doesn’t even blink at the prospect of killing. All business, all in a day’s work, don’t forget to tip your waitress.
-This plan is not very watertight, if you ask me. I hear alarm bells going off in my head.
he starts but Teeth shakes his head at him.
-Yeah, that’s your tinnitus. I’ve gone over this a few times and the other alternatives are too risky. We move him, we may get caught. We go soft on him, we may run out of time, he may have some time related communication click someone’s waiting for. We nab him on town, there may be witnesses. We let him go afterwards, he’ll tell on us or even hire someone to kill us. It’s not perfect, but it’s doable and we’re good at what we do. And I want this fucker dead, Brute.
Brute still frowns as he nods at me.
-Will the hacker squirt be the eye in the sky?
I shake my head.
-Not this time. I’m coming. I want to look this asshole in the eye when we talk to him.
Brute huffs and shakes his head proper.
-Plan keeps getting shittier. I want hazard pay.
Teeth agrees before I get any say.
-3000 up front instead, sure, whatever. You want me to hold your hand during, too?
They flip each other off and then let go of the argument to look at me.
-When do we do it?
Brute asks.
-Tonight. Just in case they somehow are on to us. The hacker who got us the info is divine, ancient level, but let’s stay safe.
-Safety is my middle name.
Teeth snorts.
-Your middle name is George, you fuckhead.
five minutes
I’ve hooked up my little camera bug to the hotel’s security feed system and set the timer, dropping a copy of it on Axorpa just for the hell of it since the ban is over, and dropped a mail to Nicla who’s nowhere to be found, not even answering her com link. She returned the mail soon enough asking if we sorely needed her, otherwise she’d return to the apartment in a while as she had shit left to do. I replied we’d do this on our own. It’s going to get sticky and we don’t need her too bad, I have two body mods and that’ll do just fine I’m sure. We exchanged some updates, in closed words, and said “laters”. My stomach is dropping but my heart is racing on and off. What the fuck are we doing? Is this shit real? Brute returns from a close by restaurant, bringing sushi, which he refers to as war food, since it fills up but doesn’t slow down. We eat in silence as the countdown ticks on my bug. We’ve set the time for the “nabbing” as the two body mods are referring it to at 0330 because there are so few people up by then, just like last time. It’s called the hour of the wolf, why I don’t know. Maybe because you basically just feel like howling and eating raw meat at that hour and it’s perfect for hunting, Teeth muses. As we finish eating, I make a mock parcel for delivery and print a very fine label indeed for it, correct addresses and names and everything, putting food packaging paper and a bottle of dish soap in it to add some weight and credibility as the men gear up, bullet proofing themselves with additional armour, loading guns, polishing swords. I get Teeth’s emergency backup bulletproof vest, a spider silk steel thing that’s about as bulky as a summer jacket and weighs even less. It smells like him but I pull my own sweater on top of it, discovering that as far as smells go, he’s way more alpha than me. Go figure. It feels more like an onslaught rather than a discreet kidnapping operation.
-Better safe than sorry.
Brute says, grinning grimly, adding a can of mace to his pocket clip. I try to swallow and grin back at the same time, ending up looking like I’m trying to digest a live insect.
The Sweet Sleep Honeycomb Hotel is more than a couple of blocks away from my place but still in the main Atrium. We walk there, the three of us, the big men walking next to each other and I trail behind, trying to look inconspicuous. The early morning is muted, a lot of shops are shut for a quick cleaning and it occurs to me that this is the time of day we’re easiest to spot in a crowd but hey, no plan is perfect. Few people are up and those who are look like they’re less than interested in us anyway. The only man even approaching us is a slimy looking fellow, offering me an early morning special on his H brothel. I accept his business card without much comment, barely listening to his pitch about the bioluminescent pool in the VIP room. I stick the card in my pocket and follow Teeth and Brute, once again feeling my heart jump as we take a left turn and enter the street, seeing the sign of the hotel softly glowing in the S2 night. Brute takes the parcel from my hands and takes point, Teeth falling one step behind him. I take a quick look inside the lobby and as Teeth checked and found out yesterday, you need to ring a bell for service in the darkest hours. The front desk is unmanned and as I see on my activated retina screens how my camera bug clicks on, fucking up the transmission from the cameras that otherwise would see us, we slip inside and trot up to the fair number 42 where Ferguson is hiding out, none the wiser to what’
s about to happen to him. Teeth and I step back from out of sight of the fish eye in the door and Brute rings the doorbell. It seems the man was up because almost immediately we hear
-Who is it?
-My name is Brute, sir. I have an express delivery parcel from Maxima.
The quiet that follows doesn’t last long.
-I haven’t ordered anything.
Man, déjà vu. Brute holds up the parcel to the fish eye, letting him read the label.
-I’m supposed to put this in your hands personally. I got a lot of cash for it so it’s probably important. And, um, “Tar Toad”.
Brute says, letting the man take his time. A second later Ferguson opens the door and tries to just accept the parcel and then planning to ask Brute to fuck off, doubtlessly, but that’s not what happens. Brute shoves his arm in the door, grabbing the man by the throat and closing his oesophagus for air to scream with and steps in, closely followed by me and Teeth. Teeth closes the door behind us after slipping the “do not disturb” sign on the door and moves over for me. I immediately get to work on the lock on the door, messing it up for any override that might open it from the outside, should things go awry. It’s an easy enough mechanism, I just need to rip open the small plastic panel, connect to it and disable the possibility of opening the door from the outside. I do it in less than a minute. Behind me I hear the muffled struggle of Gereld, feebly trying to fight off two body mods that not only have subdues guys three times his size enough times to lose count, but also left with the same kind of body of most rich kids to do it with, all starved muscles and no real power plus zero combat ability. Everything this guy has to offer came off some form of exercise machine at irregular intervals and he doesn’t even have a snowball’s chance in hell. As I finish up the lock, unhook and turn around he’s already tied to the table in the living room/bedroom chamber of the honeycomb, his head hanging over the edge of the table with his legs crossed, tied at the ankles, forcing his legs open, and see they’ve taken off his pants. His hands are tied at the wrists and a rope fastened underneath the table ties them over his reddening head. An additional rope has been tied around his body after his shirt was ripped open, holding him to the table and additionally holding his legs in place. Needless to say he’s scared shitless and I have decided once and for all that I’d rather get dental surgery with a chain saw then get on these fellows’ bad side. As he’s lying on the table in front of me like a prone target, he seems no less human but even so no less evil. This is one of my son’s murderers. He’s begging for his life, telling us where he keeps his creds and his portable Gate and that his family can pay whatever ransom we ask if we just let him go unharmed. The room is pungent with the smell of his expensive hygiene products and cognac. I look at Teeth and nod. My blood has turned cold and my brain is numb. There’s only one thing left to do. Teeth nods back at me and puts a hand over Gereld’s mouth and clamps his fingers around his nose, forbidding any air supply as I shout to the rich man a loud and firm
-SHUT. UP.
Teeth gives it another two seconds before releasing Gereld who obeys, whimpering. I feel my heart beating like mad in my chest as I start talking again.
-Brute, check the fish eye for trouble.
The big man nods and leaves the dirty work to the two men in the room that once were fathers of beloved children that will never become adults due to this prick. I’ve never done this before so I just make it up as I go.
-Gereld, my name is Jeremy and you murdered my son. No, no, don’t say a fucking word. I’m talking, and if you try to interrupt me, I’ll have you know that Teeth over here is the father of another murdered child, thanks to you, and he’ll teach you the value of silence if you forget. Got it?
The man nods, sweat and blood mingling in his face as the salty fluid hits the fresh cut on his lip he earned in his feeble fight against the body mods. I inhale and continue.
-Here’s the deal: we already know everything and the three of you, Caldwell, Monterey and yourself, you’re going down. The only question you need to worry about is how YOU are going down. Cooperate, and we might make it smoother. Don’t, and this will be a nasty night you’ll never forget for the rest of your very short life. You will beg for death long before Teeth is done with you. Get it?
He nods feverishly.
-We need proof beyond proof of the deed you did and planned to do. And that is what you’re going to give us. Not only do we want a full confession, we want a full confession with loads of details that can be confirmed and are hard to fake. The plan, dates of when you did what, passwords on any Portal and browsing history, mail accounts used, everything. Every. Damn. Thing.
He shakes his head in panic.
-I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, you’ve got the wrong Gereld, I-
Teeth closes his hand slowly into a fist in front of his face and he loses his trail. I snort.
-No, we don’t, Gereld. But if you want preliminaries of who you are, be my guest.
Teeth cracks his knuckles. Gereld takes a breath, probably to lie, but Teeth has already punched him on the nose, swift and hard. Before the scream of him has finished, Teeth has punched him two more times on the exact same spot. Tears of pain run down the bound man’s face.
-Stop it! Stop it, please!
-Do we have the right Gereld?!
Teeth punches him again, same damn spot. Gereld screams in pain and tears leave his eyes. He stares at me in desperation.
-Please, I’m not that guy, I’ve never infected any babies, I-
My heart beats so hard I think it’s about to jump out of my chest.
-Then how the fuck did you know it was an infection that killed them?!
He pauses and pales even further but then start shaking his head again.
-No! I didn’t, it wasn’t me!
-Yes, you did, Gereld! So did Caldwell and Monterey and the lot of you will pay, starting with you, right now!
I scream at him. He keeps shaking his head but as Teeth raises his fist again, grinning with his carnivore maw, he screams again
-NO! No, please, fuck, god damn it, no, please…
He starts shaking with crying but I have no sympathy for him whatsoever. If anything his tears just fuel my anger.
-Then start talking! I’ve read the mails, I’ve had the sample of bacteria confirmed, I’ve got your faces, your profiles, everything! I want incriminating fucking details and I want them now!
I scream back at him. He whimpers, cries and tries to get air through what nose he has left.
-I can’t remember all that shit-
Teeth punches him again, this time on the mouth, busting his lip afresh. I lean over his face so he can smell my breath as I talk.
-Then we’ll give you a lesson in how to remember shit, too, won’t we, Teeth?
Teeth punches him right in the breast plate and then in the solar plexus. He struggles for air and looks a little pale now, so I settle back a few seconds before continuing.
-If you won’t give me solid proof to take down your friends, I’ll just have to take out all my need for revenge on you.
As Gereld catches his breath Teeth gives me a raw grin and I just nod at him. The body mod slowly draws his katana and Gereld is going from what the fuck to oh, no. Teeth walks up to Gereld’s side, slides the blade in between Gereld’s skin and underwear and cuts it off, using the katana, and it’s chilling how easy the blade bites through the cloth. Gereld is now hyperventilating and pisses what’s left of his underwear.
-Oh, God, Oh, God, please, don’t hurt me, please, don’t, oh, my God!
Teeth grins on and climbs up on the table to stand over the bound man, holding the katana in a two-handed grip, still drawn, like a grim reaper.
-We didn’t get to keep our children. Why should we let you have any?
The tip of the katana moves slowly down towards Gereld’s exposed groin and as Teeth’s grip shifts to start the slow motion stabbing downwards perfectly the smell of piss becomes the sme
ll of shit. Gereld is screaming so loud I feel the need to hush him up and grab a shirt nearby, twisting it and putting it over his mouth.
-You want to keep your junk, you talk! We got time and we got instruments, Gereld! We even brought a first aid kit to keep you alive as we go! Start talking or you’ll get a very good reason to keep screaming!
Gereld starts trying to shake his head and the muffled raw screams of panic become inarticulate sounds of words. Teeth brings the katana all the way down to let the tip of it touch Gereld’s ball sack before he stops.
-Are we talking!?
he screams. Gereld nods desperately under his shirt that’s still covering his mouth. I can discern the words “I’ll talk, I’ll talk” coming from under the cloth. I look at Teeth.
-Let’s hear him, then.
A full hour later, Gereld Ferguson has given a full account of his and his friends’ murderous plans of becoming billionaires. I and Teeth have recorded the whole thing and in addition I’ve double checked his info as we went along, making sure it’s good. It almost makes me physically sick to hear some parts of it. To “contain the infection”, the children that were targeted were the kids of parents that had little contact with other families. He checked up the living conditions of the children intended and then laced the handles of the front doors to the houses, honeycombs or apartments with sample of the bacteria, making the parents infect their own children by touching them after opening the doors to their homes. 50 babies on S2 was the aim but not all of the infections took hold and he was told by Monterey to spread it out over time, doing it in groups of ten, with the planting of the infections no more often than every two months in between. He’s kept all of the addresses and has files on it all, monitoring the families whose lives he’s helped to ruin or tried to ruin. Honour was one of the last babies in the first group to be infected, Lychee was one of the first. His records show thirty-eight babies infected so far, and all but four of them are now dead. We even have their names. I go over it one more time and ask the questions needed to fill up the holes. An hour and sixteen minutes after the torture began I review our facts. We have it all. We can bring the lot of them down now, beyond down. With that door handle trick to spread the disease they even made us help them kill our own children. There are space cowboys who’d do these three in for free after this goes wide. Still, something is growling in the back of my mind. What the hell am I missing?