The Last Flight of the Argus

by E. R. Torre

  On the monitor, Gail Griffen’s two visitors sat down. Gail did not. She paced just behind them, saying nothing. The visitors watched her movements and, after a second or two, Orlando said:

  “So are we doing this?”

  Gail Griffen stopped pacing.

  “The information is worth every penny,” Carlo, the driver, said. “We went through a lot of shit to get you this. If anyone finds out we’re out of a job.”

  “I don’t much care for your troubles,” Gail Griffen replied. “You should have thought about that before you set your price.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” Orlando said. “We figure what you want is worth a little more. But we’re not greedy. We just want another thousand.”

  Shepherd grinned.

  “If you want to buy something in Salvation, you gotta bargain for it. We pride ourselves on our strong belief in capitalism.”

  “I’ll give you five hundred extra,” Gail countered.

  Shepherd whistled. “She’s been out of Salvation too long. Now they’ll ask for seven fifty. She should have lowballed them.”

  “How about seven fifty?” Carlo said.

  Shepherd let out a laugh. On the monitor, the image flickered.

  “I can’t do that. You’ll have to settle for five,” Gail Griffen said. Her voice was high strung, impatient. She rocked in place, tense and full of energy.

  There was a long pause. Too long. The monitor flickered again.

  “Something isn’t right,” B’taav said.

  Indeed, Gail Griffen seemed to not care about what the duo brought her, nor terribly interested in finalizing their deal. On the monitor, the image steadily grew worse.

  “What’s wrong with the camera?” Shepherd asked.

  “Interference,” B’taav replied.

  “Fuck this,” Orlando muttered. He got to his feet and reached for something in his jacket pocket. A gun. “You don’t want our stuff? Fine. We’ll keep it. Give us our money and we’ll leave.”

  The images on the monitor dissolved to black.

  “Call the squad cars in!” B’taav yelled. As if by magic, a fusion gun appeared in the Independent’s hands. He was out of the car and running to the entrance of the Hotel.

  Shepherd fumbled for his phone while he too exited the vehicle.

  By the time he stepped onto the street, B’taav was already at the Hotel’s entrance. The sound of gunfire exploded in Shepherd’s ear. He cursed and reached for the ear tab. He heard a dull electric whine and, thinking better of it, left the tab in place.

  He too headed for the entrance of the Hotel.

  CHAPTER THREE

  B’taav was at the Tropic Hotel’s elevators when the sound of gunfire roared in his ear piece. Someone was shooting at Gail Griffen's apartment. He pressed hard on the elevator’s “up” button. The nearest of the three elevators was on the 4th floor and heading down.

  “Call the police,” B’taav yelled to the Hotel’s Manager. The man crouched low behind his glass case.

  He grabbed the phone and did as told.

  By the time the police answered his call, the platinum haired man was in the elevator and gone. Shepherd stepped into the Hotel’s lobby. The officer drew his weapon and walked to the manager’s glass booth.

  “Where did my partner go?” Shepherd asked.

  The manager put the phone down.

  “Into the elevator. What’s going on? Is this about Gail Griffen?”

  “I’m afraid so. Did my partner tell you anything?”

  “Yeah, he said to call the police.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course.”

  Shepherd nodded. He looked back at the Hotel’s entrance and within seconds spotted the distant lights of several squad cars converging on the Hotel.

  They’re running quick tonight, Shepherd thought.

  “The police will cordon off this place. Any guests show up down here, tell them to go outside. Don’t get in our way.”

  “I won’t.”

  Shepherd smiled.

  “Take it easy, we won’t mess up the room you rented us.”

  “What about Gail Griffen’s room?”

  “Can’t promise anything there,” Shepherd said. He remained in the lobby as long as he could. When the police cars screeched to a stop before the Hotel’s entrance, he headed for the elevator.

  Just as the elevator reached the halfway point of its journey the Independent heard a second gunshot through his earpiece.

  B’taav winced. The sound slammed through his already numb ear. Afterwards, all B’taav heard was garbled electronic feedback.

  B’taav considered the distortion and his pale face grew pale.

  She jammed the Vid feed and now she's jamming the audio signal, B’taav thought. She knew we were watching and listening.

  The elevator passed the fifty-fourth floor. B’taav removed his ear tab and put it away. He then checked his gun to make sure it was loaded and ready.

  The elevator doors opened on the 63rd floor.

  B’taav took a quick glance at the south hallway and leaned back inside the elevator. He did the same for the north hallway. Both sides were clear.

  B’taav stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked to Gail Griffen’s apartment door. He was thankful for the hallway carpeting. It muffled his footsteps.

  Shepherd swore. The elevators were descending too slowly. He looked at the hotel manager. The man shrugged.

  “They’re old,” he said.

  Shepherd shook his head. Several officers emerged from their vehicles and headed to the Hotel’s front entrance. More squad cars were coming from down the street.

  And Shepherd needed to be in the goddamn elevator.

  B’taav leaned against the hallway wall. In front and to his right was the door to apartment 6345. There was a small hole in the upper half of the door and a similar hole on the wall opposite the door. Smoke rose from each. The two holes were the result of fusion blasts.

  B’taav's body tensed as he reached for the doorknob. Abruptly, he stopped. Another door, the one to apartment 6348 across the hall, opened. An elderly lady stuck her head out of her apartment to see what was going on.

  B’taav put his index finger in front of his mouth and then pointed at his gun.

  “Fucking Independents,” the old lady muttered. “If it isn't the heavy metal music it's the fucking shooting.”

  She disappeared into her room and sealing the apartment door.

  The elevator doors closed just as the first of a group of officers entered the Hotel’s lobby.

  Sorry I couldn’t wait, Shepherd thought.

  “B’taav, do you read me?”

  His ear tab emitted a low electric whine.

  “If you can hear me, don’t bother answering. My earphone is dead. I’m in the elevator passing the... uh...20th floor. Squad cars have surrounded the building. I’ll be up in a moment.”

  Shepherd swore. If his tab went dead after the second gunshot, there was every reason to assume that B’taav’s tab was also gone.

  B’taav pressed the side of his head against the door to apartment 6345. He listened for any sounds coming from within. Someone inside the apartment groaned. The voice belonged to a man. The groan was followed by the sound of something large hitting the floor.

  “Your suitcase is empty,” said an angry female voice.

  B’taav recognized the voice as Gail Griffen’s, but her tone was far deeper, more guttural than ever before. Regardless, she was alive and seemingly uninjured while at least one of the men who came to see her was in pain.

  B’taav was surprised by this. Was it possible someone as petite and frail as Gail Griffen could disarm and incapacitate two men, at least one of whom was carrying a weapon? If so, she was far more dangerous than she outwardly appeared.

  “For the last time, where are those documents?” Gail said. Incredibly, her voice was even deeper than the moment before. There came the sounds of movement and someone walking away.
>
  B’taav held his gun tight. He took a step back and kicked the door open. What he saw inside Gail Griffen’s room made his blood run cold.

  Shepherd checked his gun for what felt like the hundredth time while in the tight confines of the elevator. He muttered meaningless words to himself.

  The elevator approached the fiftieth floor.

  Shepherd was ready for what was coming.

  Blood splatters covered the walls of Gail Griffen’s room.

  Lying just a few feet from the apartment door was the shattered body of Orlando Echo. His face was a bloody pulp. His crushed left eyeball dangled from the mass of flesh that was once his face. He still held the fusion gun in his right hand.

  A few feet away from him and also lying on the floor was Carlo Giny. The face of this man was also mangled, though not quite as badly. He breathed, but barely. He wouldn't last without immediate medical attention. On the floor next to his ravaged body was an open and empty black briefcase. It was the briefcase the two men brought to Gail Griffen’s apartment.

  B’taav aimed his gun at the center of the apartment as he entered. He knew the dwelling’s layout well. To his right was a small bathroom. To his left was the bedroom. The doors leading to both rooms were closed.

  Gail Griffen was hiding in either of the two closed rooms or had escaped out the window. B’taav stepped over the first of the two men and knelt down. He felt for a pulse on Orlando Echo. It was no surprise when he found none. He picked up and put away the man's gun.

  B’taav stole a quick look at the body and considered what had caused the man his brutal injuries. Orlando was hit with a blunt object, B’taav guessed. Perhaps a wood plank or stone or...

  B’taav shook his head. Could Gail Griffen do this kind of damage to an armed man with her bare fists?

  No, B’taav thought. Some person –persons– were hidden in the room. They jumped the men and held them down and beat them…

  No.

  If there were more people hidden in the apartment, B’taav and Shepherd would have seen or heard them through the various Vid Bugs. Apart from the two men lying in the living room, Gail Griffen was always alone. Always.

  Maybe, he thought, she had partners who kept another apartment somewhere else on this floor.

  B’taav approached Carlo Giny. The wounds on him were also the result of a severe beating. Fresh blood seeped from a jagged cut on his forehead.

  “Can you hear me?” B’taav whispered. He didn’t look directly at the man, but keep his eyes on the closed doors on either side of the room.

  “Yes,” came a barely audible reply. The man spit up a mouthful of blood.

  “How many people does she have here?”

  “She’s alone,” Carlo muttered. From his throat came a rattling sound that might have been moan. “All alone.”

  Carlo Giny took one final breath and was gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After what seemed too long a delay, the elevator doors opened. Shepherd stepped into the hallway and pointed his gun in the direction of Gail Griffen’s room. The corridor before him was empty.

  “Ok,” Shepherd said.

  He walked to apartment 6345.

  B’taav moved away from the second corpse and edged closer to the apartment window. Outside, there was no ledge. With a sixty-three floor drop, there was no way Gail Griffen could escape that way. It meant she was still in the apartment.

  B’taav stared at the doors to either side of him. The bedroom or the bathroom. Gail Griffen was behind one of them. Gail Griffen, the petite, frail looking twenty six year old woman who had somehow beaten two men –one of them armed with a fusion gun– to death.

  Gail Griffen. There was more to her. Much more.

  You’re either in the bathroom or the bedroom, B’taav thought. Door number one or door number two.

  The bathroom was small, confined. To the Independent, it was more likely she’d be in the bedroom.

  B’taav stepped to the bedroom door and, with his free hand, grasped the doorknob. He slowly, gently, turned it. The door wasn’t locked. With great care, He pushed it open.

  The door let out a soft creak but otherwise gave. B’taav stepped back, unsure what to expect. He pressed his body against the wall beside the door and waited. Nothing happened. After a few seconds, he eased off the wall and stared into the room. He found inky darkness.

  B’taav’s eyes took only a few seconds to adjust. While they did, the Independent’s stomach churning with thoughts of what lay within, waiting for him to step inside.

  Soon, B’taav identified the freshly made bed. Beside it was a night table. On the night table was an antique paperback novel. Beside the night table was a covered window. Beyond that the double door to the closet. One of those doors was open. B’taav spotted no clothing on the hanger and a black suitcase against the inner wall. Gail Griffen was packed up and ready to go.

  B’taav aimed his gun at the closet door. He could only see half of the closet’s contents. For all he knew, Gail Griffen was hidden behind the second, closed door.

  He had little choice but to check.

  Shepherd reached the door to apartment 6345 and found it open. Like B’taav had done moments before, he listened for any sounds coming from within.

  He heard nothing. He thought about calling out for B’taav, but he needed to assess the situation before letting anyone know about his presence.

  It was the prudent thing to do.

  He also thought about waiting for backup to arrive. By now, Police Officers were on their way up. An overwhelming force would ensure control over the situation.

  But what if B’taav lay injured in the apartment?

  Gail Griffen’s buy of Merrick Enterprises information had gone sour. A gun was drawn and shots fired. B’taav was in there.

  He might be injured.

  Officer Shepherd had no choice in the matter. He stepped forward, past the door, stopping at the threshold.

  “By the Gods,” he whispered.

  In fifteen years of duty, Officer Shepherd saw plenty of horrors. As the old adage went, you never got used to such sights. But he had never seen anything like this before.

  Shepherd walked to the first body and shuddered as he checked for a pulse. When he found none he approached the other victim.

  B’taav rested his hand on the closet door. He slid the closet door open and pointed his gun at the darkness within.

  There was no one there.

  B’taav found the light switch and clicked the closet lights on. A single change of clothes were on a hanger. It was what Gail Griffen wore a few days back, to the restaurant. B’taav reached for the light switch and was about to turn it off when he noticed something lying beside her suitcase.

  It was a plastic vial and syringe. B'taav picked the items up. The vial was labeled Ac2. B'taav gasped. The massacre in the apartment suddenly made sense.

  “B’taav?” came a voice from the living room.

  B’taav dropped the vial and syringe and rushed to the door leading back to the living room.

  “She’s in the bathroom!” the Independent yelled.

  For the first time since knowing him, Shepherd heard terror in the Independent’s voice.

  B’taav sprung out of the bedroom as Gail Griffen smashed the bathroom door from its hinges. Her petite body was transformed into a hulking, muscular monster. Her face was bloated and distorted. Engorged veins ran across her forehead and the blood within them beat wildly against her hideously stretched skin. Her eyes were likewise swollen and wild. Her body, with the exception of her left hand, which hung limp at her side, appeared supercharged. Blood from a fusion gun blast dripped down the length of the limp arm.

  The monster that was once Gail Griffen tore into the living room with lightning speed. Her good hand reached out and, before Shepherd could react, locked around the police officer’s neck. Gail Griffen let out a guttural roar and twisted Shepherd’s head to the right and left. His body flailed about as if it were a child�
�s doll.

  There followed a grotesque crack and Shepherd’s body went limp. His service revolver tumbled to the ground. Though he was dead, the being that was once Gail Griffen continued shaking the officer. The flesh that held the dead man’s head to his body ripped away. Shepherd’s headless body tumbled to the ground while his head remained in Gail’s monstrous right hand.

  B’taav fired his gun over and over and over again. The blasts tore into the woman, producing five gaping holes in her chest. From each spewed a fountain of blood.

  The creature roared once again. She slammed Shepherd’s head to the ground and moved toward B’taav. But her movements were sluggish. The blood flowing out of her body was too much, even for this monster.

  B’taav ran back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. It was the only barrier he had between himself and that creature.

  If it holds.

  The creature pounded against the door, splintering panels just inches from B'taav’s face. B’taav held the door tight while the creature continued pounding. Her blows grew weaker, until they finally stopped.

  B’taav waited a few more moments before inching the shattered remains of door open. Gail Griffen lay on the floor, her body no longer bloated and muscular. In death her features were serene. All traces of the monster that killed Orlando Echo, Carlo Giny, and Officer Shepherd were gone. All around her and sprayed against the wall and floor was a thick layer of her blood.

  In the end, it was the blood loss that killed her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sixty-third floor of the Tropic Hotel was tightly cordoned off and filled with police and crime scene technicians.