“How do you figure? Why can’t I do this anytime you have trouble?”
James slammed a fist into his palm. “Because after I waste these fuckers and destroy the Harriken bigwigs no one’s gonna bet against me again. You know I’ve got fan websites and shit now, right? They’re calling me ‘the Scourge of the Harriken.’ Cops in New York recognized me on sight, and that’s on the other side of the country.”
“Fuck! Learning that ruined my whole week.”
The bounty hunter locked eyes with the bartender, waiting in silence for the other man’s inherent greed to do its work.
Tyler rubbed his chin. “Do you mind cheating a little? Maybe giving me some inside information?”
“If these assholes want to bet on me dying, I don’t mind letting you know when I’ve taken out an assassin or two. I don’t plan on dying, so I’m stacking the deck heavily in my favor with all the tools I can get my hands on.”
“But what if you still get killed? From what I’ve heard there are some seriously dangerous assholes coming for you.”
“Then I’m out the survival money, but I still want the twenty-five percent of the house take to go to a trust for someone who needs it. I’ll send you the secure routing and account information.”
Tyler chuckled. “Oh, you got a woman stashed away somewhere? Have to pay her to deal with that fucking ugly face of yours?”
James grunted. “Don’t make me reconsider the punching.”
“I’ve heard that money can compensate for looks, but I didn’t think you were rich enough for that.” Tyler barked a laugh at his joke.
Yeah, take your cheap shots, asshole. In the end, you’re gonna make me a lot of money.
The bounty hunter stared at Tyler as he waited for him to calm down.
The bartender finally stopped laughing. “Why are you trusting me, Brownstone?”
“What’s trust have to do with anything? If you fuck me over I’ll break you in half, cameras or not.”
“Can’t break me in half if you’re dead, asshole. I could run off to Mexico without sending shit out to whatever bitch you have hidden in—”
Tyler squeaked as James lifted him into the air by the throat and squeezed.
“Gonna make this real clear. The trust money is for someone special. I don’t mind you talking shit about me, but you don’t say shit about her. Fucking ever. If you do, I will bring the pain. Understand, fucker?”
The bartender managed a shallow nod and James let go. Tyler thudded to the floor, gasping for breath.
You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, fucker.
“If I die,” the bounty hunter continued, glaring down at Tyler, “and that money doesn’t go to the trust, two people will come looking for you, including a killer and another person who might even be worse. Consider that my insurance policy, asshole.”
Tyler sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He dusted his khaki pants and silk shirt with his hands before rubbing his throat. “You’re a thug and an asshole, Brownstone.”
“Fucking hate me all you want. I just want to know if you want to start the pool with my initial investments. I’m not gonna have time to play around with money once I start kicking ass.”
Tyler flipped him off. “First, fuck you for grabbing me.” He lowered his hand. “Second, when should I get the pool going?”
James smirked. “Right away. The shit starts soon, if not today or tomorrow.” He turned to leave. “Send me the info and I’ll transfer the money for the bets.”
“None of this shit means I like you, Brownstone. If anything, I hate you more than ever.”
“This isn’t about you liking me. It’s about both of us making money, prick.”
Shay took several deep breaths as she stared at Professor Armstrong’s office door. She was unsure if showing the pictures to someone else was a good idea, so she’d used software to isolate the glyphs into a separate image.
She hoped the expert opinion of an academic archaeologist might help her solve the mystery, or at least confirm her theory wasn’t crazy.
It’s not like the existence of the glyphs is secret. So as long as he doesn’t know where I saw them it won’t be a big deal.
And if it is, I can always shut him up by threatening to kill him.
Shay smiled. There were very few problems that a death threat couldn’t solve.
The tomb raider knocked on the door.
“I don’t have office hours today,” called Professor Armstrong. “And you don’t have an appointment.”
“I’m not one of your students. It’s Shay.”
“Oh, oh. Come in.”
Shay stepped into the cramped office. There was barely enough room for the desk, which was covered with stacks of papers and printed articles, as well as an ancient-looking computer.
That shit from the ‘20s?
Professor Armstrong, a balding middle-aged man who thought he could fool the world with a comb-over, sat behind his desk with a huge smile on his face.
He adjusted his bowtie. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Shay. Are you still working on that book about the history of archaeology? We could go out for a drink sometime to discuss related subjects if you want. I’d be more than happy to go on record. You can quote me all you want.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Shay looked down for a moment as she tried to remember the details of her lies to Professor Armstrong. “I’m still gathering notes. The publisher didn’t like the direction I was going, so I’m having to do a lot of rewrites.” She shrugged.
“Ah, I can understand that sort of issue. What brings you to my office today, then, my most beautiful fan of archaeology?”
Shay barely noticed his feeble flirting; she was far more interested in his opinion on the glyphs. She pulled out two images of the glyphs and set them on the desk in front of the professor.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been trying to revise my notes on ancient Oriceran and Earth connections. I found some resources that talk about these glyphs being found on different pyramids throughout the world, separated by a lot of time and distance.”
Professor Armstrong picked up the images and looked between them. He shook his head. “No, this isn’t right.”
“Huh? What’s not right?”
“Where did you get these images?”
“Someone sent them to me,” Shay lied. “Claimed they had taken them in South America and Egypt.”
He set the pictures down and tapped one, then the other. “They’re trying to deceive you. Ignore them.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. “Deceive me? How?”
“Oh, it’s just... Well, you’re right.” The archaeologist shrugged. “These glyphs have been found on a small number of ancient pyramid structures, and they don’t seem to link to any Earth civilization. The reason I’m saying these are fake is that—” he tapped one symbol, “this glyph never goes with the one right next to it. I think someone just found old images and put them together to send to you.”
You would give your left nut to examine Brownstone’s amulet, wouldn’t you? It’d blow all your theories away. Those glyphs definitely are together on that thing.
Shay nodded slowly. “Okay, you said these symbols aren’t linked to an Earth civilization. So they’re Oriceran, then?”
An uncomfortable look spread over the man’s face. “Look, I’ll level with you. These symbols aren’t linked to Oriceran either, at least not to the best of my knowledge. Now, formal academic cooperation with Oriceran scholars is still difficult at the best of times, but a number of historians and archaeologists who specialize more in that area have looked into these so-called Garfield Glyphs, and no one can link them to any existing or past Oriceran civilization.”
“Then maybe there’s another source. Another world?”
The professor sighed and shrugged. “There could be. There isn’t strong evidence for that, but there wasn’t strong evidence for Oriceran until it was basically shoved in our faces. The history and
archaeology communities pretend they can explain everything in terms of Oriceran contact, but you know that just because you have a hammer doesn’t mean everything’s a nail. I think we academics need to face the truth that there is a lot out there we don’t know.” He gestured toward the window. “The only other advice I could give you is to maybe seek an Oriceran scholar and see if they can help you. Like I said, though, that can be difficult, and despite their ancient records, it’s not like the average human can go over there and thumb through everything.”
Shay faked a smile. “No big deal. It’ll make for an interesting chapter as is. Archaeology controversies, that sort of thing. Thanks for your time.”
“About that drink…”
“Drink?”
Professor Armstrong’s face reddened. “I was...wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink sometime.”
Shay thought back to a few of his comments during the conversation and swallowed a laugh. She’d been so focused on the information she’d not even registered he was hitting on her.
Yeah, more sad than anything, Prof. You don’t have any game.
“I’m pretty busy the next few weeks,” Shay replied. “Head down in research. You know how it goes.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” The man sighed and looked down. “See you around, Shay.”
“See you around, Professor.”
Sorry, pal. Not gonna blame you for being into me, but not gonna give you any hope either.
Worrying about the construction of a new home when five world-class assassins were on their way to kill you might strike some people as an example of misplaced priorities. James, however, planned to live, and even if he died, he wanted Alison to have something to remember him by.
Curiosity was his main motivation that afternoon as he stepped out of his F-350 and surveyed the construction site. The crater had been replaced by a new foundation and new plumbing. The builders had already framed most of the house.
A skinny black man with a colored bandana hopped out of his own F-350 and headed toward James with a huge grin.
“Hey, Trey,” James called.
“Motherfucking Mr. Brownstone,” the gang leader exclaimed, sticking his hand out.
James gave it a firm shake. “Everything going okay here?”
“Yeah. I’m not normally here watchin’ these bitches, so you just got lucky today to be graced by my motherfuckin’ presence. Don’t worry, though. One of my boys always has eyes on this place. No one’s gonna fuck with your new crib. These fuckers workin’ hard.” Trey shook his head. “I’m glad I ain’t in construction. I get thirsty just watchin’ ‘em.”
“Is the foreman onsite?”
“Yeah, that bitch Bill is here.” Trey gestured to a sweaty mustached man looking through a pile of gypsum boards. “That motherfucker don’t like me much, but he too chickenshit to say anythin’ most of the time so we get along okay.”
“I’ve got to talk with him.”
Trey waved. “I was gonna grab some fuckin’ lunch anyway. I’ll have one of my boys over here in twenty minutes. You stayin’ that long?”
“Yeah, should be. Thanks. Just so you know, when this shit’s finished we’re having a big housewarming party.”
The gang leader grinned. “You may need a new house after my boys are done partyin’ in it.” He laughed and headed toward his truck.
James headed over toward the foreman. “Hey, Bill!”
The man looked up with a frown, but it softened when he saw who was speaking to him. “Oh, Mr. Brownstone. Everything, uh, looking okay to you?”
“Yeah. Looks great. I guess.” James shrugged. “Kind of still half a house, so hard for me to judge.”
Bill wiped some sweat from his brow. “Just to make it clear, now that we’ve laid the foundation and started framing we’re committed to the plans.”
“Yeah, so? I like those plans.”
“I’m just saying that with the bigger bedrooms, the additional bedroom, and the expanded kitchen, you’re not going to have a lot of yard space.”
James shrugged. “I don’t have a dog anymore, so yard’s not much of a concern.”
Fucking Harriken.
Trey’s F-350 roared to life and the gang leader pulled away.
Bill glared at the truck as he rumbled down the street.
James followed the man’s eyes. “Problem with Trey?”
“I can’t believe you’d have a gang watching your house. How can you trust criminals?”
“Hey, who better to keep criminals away than other criminals? Why, you having problems?”
Bill pointed to the gypsum boards. “Yeah, I am.”
“Like?”
“There are more boards here than we ordered, and they’re a higher quality material.”
James laughed. “I don’t see how that’s a problem.”
Bill furrowed his brow and blinked. “Well, it’s...whatever.”
The bounty hunter looked back and forth for a moment. “So, we’re committed above-ground to the layout.”
“Yes. If you want to change things we’d have to add to the foundation and tear down a lot of the frame, and we’d need new plans from the architect.”
“What about below-ground?”
“You want to expand the basement?”
“Among other things.” James leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Let’s just say I want the ability to stay in the basement a while if shit goes zombie up above, and I also want to maybe talk to you about doing something a little off the books later. An exit from the basement.”
“Off the books?”
“Yeah, but with a nice premium for you and all your guys. I just don’t want that shit on the official plans registered with the county.”
Bill looked around as if city inspectors lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”
“Good. One last thing.”
“What?”
“I want to upgrade the countertops.”
12
The five killers sat around a small round wooden table in a Harriken-controlled hotel not too far from the group’s headquarters. An outside observer might think they were having a friendly discussion, not deciding how to best murder a man thousands of miles away.
Trevor Moses was grateful to have a chair. All the kneeling in the Harriken headquarters was getting to his already-sore knees.
The assassin looked around the table at his temporary coworkers, amused at the cross-section of skills and humanity they represented. It’d been a long time since he’d had to coordinate with so many people.
“The way I see it,” Trevor began, “it’ll be better if we just decide this like professionals so we don’t interfere with each other like those fools in LA did during the bounty. Not saying we should queue up or whatever, just that we should figure out in general who might go after him first.”
Sabine, Connor, and Hisa nodded.
John Candle frowned. “What difference does it make?”
Trevor hadn’t met the American killer before, but he’d heard of him. The man was a hothead and tended to leave a trail of collateral damage on his jobs.
The South African poison-master didn’t care about innocent people getting caught in the crossfire since he didn’t believe anyone was truly innocent, but he found unnecessary killing sloppy and a reflection of laziness.
You Americans are alike. Brownstone and Candle…straightforward, brave, brash, and stupid. But I can use you.
“Obviously the earlier someone goes after him,” Trevor continued, “the better the chance they’ll get the kill, but the longer he stays alive the worse-off he’ll be, so it increases the chance someone else will take him out.” He offered the others a wicked grin. “I kind of just like the idea of him getting all frantic and worried. I think I’m going to let a few of you take your shot first.” He looked meaningfully at John.
Time to push him off the cliff.
“Yeah, I don’t want to wait,” John agreed. “I think
Brownstone’s got these Harriken bitches spooked because he killed a few of their idiot men. The old man’s info says he’s tough but not invulnerable.”
Trevor shrugged. “He’s got at least some magic or an artifact or something. There’s being lucky, and there’s killing three buildings full of men. That’s not luck, and I wouldn’t take him lightly.”
John snorted. “I don’t give a shit. That old man’s info also suggests Brownstone’s a straightforward kind of fuck. I don’t think he’ll be ready if I go at him directly. I want to take the fight to him and finish him off before he even knows what’s happening. He might not even have his artifacts on him.”
“You’re going to go after him in Los Angeles?”
“Yeah. I’ve already got tickets on a supersonic flight back to the US. I don’t care what the rest of you do, but I’m not waiting around. And I’m killing him as soon as I lay eyes on him.”
“You’re not going to try to take him alive?” Trevor asked.
“Nope. Two million’s enough, and it’s been a long time since a mark’s been high-profile enough to boost my rep.”
Trevor raised an eyebrow and looked at the other assassins. Connor shrugged and Sabine and Hisa just watched, their faces blank.
“I think I’m going to stick around here, mate,” Connor told John. “The asshole has too many allies in LA. He’s got fuck-all to help him in Japan. I don’t mind going after Brownstone, but I don’t want to have to deal with the entire LAPD or the US Marine Corps. You think you can take all of them on?”
“I’m going to jump Brownstone when he’s alone, so I don’t give a shit about the cops or soldiers.” John sneered. “And how do you know he’ll come to Japan? He has no reason to leave America and the people who have his back.”
Connor shook his head. “This is a guy who killed dozens of men because his dog died. He’ll come. He must have his ear to the ground, and it’s not like the Harriken are being quiet about hiring killers. Brownstone will come here because he’ll want to end it, just like he did when he attacked the Harriken strongholds in LA.”
Bring The Pain_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 9