by C. G. Hatton
Martinez appeared at the door, content that there was no threat, and waving him in. He beckoned Evelyn again and waited until she picked up the board and walked over, walking in ahead of him without a word.
She watched him as he sat at his desk and then gave it to him, folding her arms and unimpressed at his reaction even though he hadn’t reacted yet.
It was from one of his deep cover agents. Domino was one of their best, owner of a repair shop and scrapyard that was one of the busiest in Winter, high profit, perfect cover for gathering intel. The message was encrypted. He had a vessel matching the ID of the mercenaries’ ship. In for repairs and he wanted NG to go see for himself.
“It has to be a trap,” Evelyn said, knowing that she was stating the obvious.
NG read it again. Of course it was a trap. On the surface it was a simple communication. But there was a trigger word in there that negated everything else in the message and another hidden deeper that warned in no uncertain terms that Domino was in trouble, NG had to stay the hell away and if the guild sent anyone, they’d better be armed to the teeth.
It was a safety measure, a contingency they’d never had to use before.
NG looked up. “I know.”
Chapter 9
“He went after the Order?” The surprise in her tone was belied by her neutral expression as she watched him sprinkle the black powder into the wine.
“They were taunting us. What else was he to do?”
“I am surprised that you sanction such action.”
He hadn’t just sanctioned it, he’d given free reign, in fact made it a priority. “At the time we didn’t know what it was that had so stirred them.” He added another pinch and watched the steam billow upwards. “We have been at loggerheads for some time but it has been simple to avoid or deflect the weak blows from such a sprawling and obtuse organisation. I misjudged how effective they could be with some focus behind their actions.”
“And he set the Earth military against the corporation that called for Hilyer? Foolhardy, was it not? Some are saying that was the moment the war started.”
Poppycock but he didn’t say that. He looked up, through the swirling vapours. “He did not know at the time the allegiance of the corporation, but I am sure that even if he had known, he would not have hesitated. He is bold. He needs to be.”
•
They picked up a tail as soon as they left the shuttle terminal. NG threw his bag into the back of the rental car and went as deep as he could to read the guy who had followed them out into the half light of Ten Yarin’s dusk.
Traffic from the orbital was heavy even this late. The colony was the type of place he hated, civilised to the point of obnoxious and big on bureaucracy of the most hypocritical kind. It was a haven for every underworld operation that liked to play the pretence of legitimacy and run their games close to the wire of respectable trade. It was the perfect place to entrap a quarry. All visitors entered the atmosphere via one of five orbitals, and no freewheeling down to the surface because an unforgiving net of security, second only to Earth and Winter themselves, surrounded the planet that would see you impounded if you so much as wobbled from a given flight path. So it wasn’t surprising that they’d chosen this place and had someone watching arrivals at the capital city.
He was working on the theory that these people wanted him alive and in a way that made their job much harder and his a breeze. He had Banks and Martinez with him and the plan was simply to trip up the people sent to trap him. Devon had argued then told him he was a cocky bastard and welcome to get himself killed if he insisted on going in without backup. But Ten Yarin wasn’t the type of place you could hit heavy-handed. He’d compromised and agreed to an assault team from Security posted on standby in orbit but he wasn’t intending on needing them. This time, he was expecting trouble.
He’d already tried to reach Domino through the Senson, with no response so they had no way of knowing if he was even still alive. NG reached into his bag for a gun, throwing a glance to Martinez that sent her reaching for her own. They’d had to smuggle the guns in. Ten Yarin had a simple single-minded blind philosophy on weapons – none in, none out. What happened on the surface was something else, but you’d better not get caught with any. He quickly and calmly unpacked the concealed components and reassembled them deftly, as he concentrated on the man a few vehicles over who was being infinitely careful not to watch them openly.
The mind he read was cold, a step up from the last lot of mercenaries he’d encountered. NG caught the intention there and overheard a fast, tight wire communication, “Got him. Kill the family.”
Shit.
He sent, hard and fast, to Banks and Martinez, “They have Domino’s family. Take this jerk out and get over there,” as he calmly closed the door and walked round to the driver’s side.
They didn’t argue and he didn’t wait to see what happened.
Domino’s yard was out in the plains about twenty five miles from the city limits.
NG drove, fast, the lights of the city flashing by, and headed out into the rapidly falling darkness of the hinterlands between the coastal city and the foothills.
He still couldn’t contact Domino and as he got closer, he started to scan ahead. There was a force of ten men at the yard. He could sense their intentions even at this distance and it wasn’t good. There were no customers and none of Domino’s usual workforce. He could feel pain pulsing at the weak life form he recognised as his deep cover agent.
He put his foot down on the accelerator and drove towards the yard, dark shadows from the massive hulking forms of dead and abandoned ships looming up all around. He didn’t slow down, navigating the chaos without lights, spinning the car across the desert floor and weaving through the scattered debris of the junked superstructures.
He cut the engine and used the slope of the ground to freewheel in, coming to a skidding stop next to a pile of scrap some distance out from the high wall that surrounded the inner enclosure of the yard.
They didn’t have watchers out, relying with an arrogant confidence on the guy who was supposed to be tailing him and a sophisticated life signs scanner that should have warned them as soon as he got within a mile of the place. High end kit but no match for the guild equipment he was wearing.
He got out, leaving the car door ajar. It was dark, all the floodlights out, and eerily quiet. A damp chill hung in the air. He reached for the bag and assembled another gun, thumbing rounds into magazines as he checked around. There was one guy on each exit, three roaming the yard and five with Domino. He pulled out the rest of his kit, strapping holsters to each thigh, slipping a knife into his boot and attaching ammo pouches to his belt.
The Senson engaged as he sensed the full force of a blow to the stomach, second-hand pain and a desperation emanating from Domino that was heart wrenching.
Martinez’s tone was unemotional but heavy. “Boss, the family are all dead. Wait for us.”
That wasn’t going to happen. He started walking towards the wall, feeling that dark spot inside stir with a chill.
There was another blow, a spark of defiant resistance and a vicious shard of agony that cut through it.
NG broke into a run, drawing weapons.
It was pitch black inside apart from a small circle of light around Domino, strung up by his wrists, hanging from a chain in the centre of one of the massive cages down in the workshop.
NG crouched on the walkway that ran around the outside edge of the underground chamber, a gun in each hand, heart rate slow and steady and a tension in every muscle that was pure anticipation.
The intruders were all wearing armoured combat gear, black night vision glasses hugged close to their heads like fly eyes, high end kit with electronics as advanced as anything available on the blackest of markets either side of the line.
Even so, it had been relatively easy to avoid the five patrolling outside and he’d slipped straight past a giant of a man guarding the entrance to the workshop, guild steal
th gear negating their detectors close up and every tiny movement as slick and silent as it was possible to be.
There were three men in the cage with the guild operative, one watching and two playing with knives inflicting wounds with practised precision.
Domino hadn’t given away a thing. NG could read it clearly from his mind, through pain that was excruciating.
He shut it out and switched to the man watching. That mind was cold, waiting patiently, letting his men amuse themselves to pass the time. They’d baited their trap and were simply waiting for NG to walk straight into it.
Domino screamed.
The thin black thread of control snapped.
NG moved fast. He ran silently along an overhead beam, ducking amongst cables and pipes and began punching release controls. Chains clattered loose, spilling crates and baskets that scattered salvaged components and massive ship parts with a crash onto the floor of the workshop. He didn’t stop, yanking pressure gauges as he ran leaving a trail of open valves behind him that started to vent steam and gases in billowing clouds. The intruders started at the sudden noise and commotion. They’d been waiting for their trap to spring and battle readiness sparked as they realised they were under attack, the anticipation of completing the mission clear and confident.
They were going to be disappointed – they’d never attacked the Thieves’ Guild before.
NG ran towards the cage and dropped down, twisting in midair and firing both guns before his feet hit the floor.
The two tormentors fell, knives clattering, blood spraying. The leader of the mercenary unit spun and fired, rounds raking through the air as NG ran, skidding into cover. One hit with the sting of an FTH. So they did want him alive. He shrugged off its effects easily, taking its energy and absorbing it for himself. He could sense the buzz of conversation between the eight men, picking up their thoughts as they used implants to communicate, rapid bursts with military efficiency.
Eight left.
They should have brought more.
NG stood, turning and firing, taking down the giant with one shot to the head then spinning to wing the guy in charge with one shot to his gun hand. He didn’t wait to see if the giant fell, running in to the cage to down the boss with a tackle that sent him crashing to the floor. A quick forehand blow to the head with the butt of the pistol smashed the night vision goggles and sent the guy senseless. NG hauled him backwards towards Domino, pausing only to raise a gun and fire once through the door and down the aisle, a clean long range snapshot that took the fifth guy between the eyes as he was stupid enough to risk a glance out from cover.
The five guys outside were closing in, more cautiously now they couldn’t contact their buddies.
Domino was struggling. Dying. NG released him from the chains and eased him gently to the floor, sitting between the two men, his operative and the man who’d been sent by the Order to snatch him. He tucked his hand up against the back of Domino’s neck, hushing him as he tried to talk. He was too far gone to heal. The black fog deepened.
NG placed his other hand on the throat of the guy who’d been leading the mercenaries and squeezed until he came round with a choked breath. It was easy to softly ease Domino’s pain away and throw it into the other body sprawled by his side.
The man began to whimper. NG tore every memory and scrap of knowledge and awareness from the guy’s mind, every bit of intel about this mission, fast with no care for the damage he was causing. He took everything.
The man screamed and died in agony. Domino’s agony.
That bloodcurdling howl spurred the remnants of the attack force into an all out assault.
NG eased Domino to the floor and stood, holding the guns loosely by his side and waited, head down, sensing the adrenaline pulsing through the five approaching bodies.
When they moved in, their tactics were coordinated, slick and doomed to fail. They didn’t dare switch to live ammunition. NG had the luxury of using armour piercing.
He took the hits from FTH rounds without flinching, spinning and returning rapid fire each time they exposed so much as an inch of flesh from cover. He took two down with head shots, the third with a double tap to the heart and the fourth with a bullet that ripped out the jugular. The last man didn’t stand for long, screaming abuse and running straight in. It was too tempting to let him get close, feel the fear and absorb the hatred. He ran into a bullet, arms outstretched and inches from NG’s neck, and fell back with a thud.
NG stood there, breathing in the swirl of void from so much death. The silence was laden with pure black emotion, the noise from the steam vents a chaotic backdrop to the carnage.
No one messes with the Thieves’ Guild.
‘No one messes with me.’
He sank to his knees, dropping both guns to the floor. His heart was racing, breathing ragged, vision clearing as if a fog was lifting. He sat there, head bowed, drained, the scent of blood heavy in the air.
Footsteps echoed.
He didn’t move.
Someone stopped in front of him, another figure behind, and the cold barrel of a gun pushed against the back of his neck.
Chapter 10
“Most impressive. Ruthless.”
“As I said, he is fierce in protecting his own.”
“Can he control it?”
The Man paused as he reached for the jug.
She was watching him intently. “Can you control him?” she asked, the two questions hanging in the warm, thick air between them.
He poured the wine slowly, topping up each goblet, watching the blood red wine splash and swirl within the curved metal. He placed the jug carefully on the table and nudged her goblet slightly. He took his own and sat back, settling himself before looking up.
She smiled, understanding clear in her mind that she was not going to get an answer to either.
“He is what he needs to be,” he said again. “There is more to him, much more, than any of us could ever truly comprehend. Even I.”
•
As he began to take stock, he could sense Banks and Martinez close by. More vehicles, armed men, the two guild operatives escorted into the compound at gun point and held at the gate.
He vaguely became aware of an urgent query pounding at the Senson.
“I’m fine,” he sent back to them. “Wait there.”
The figure standing before him was a dark presence that stared down at him with a swirling mix of contempt and anger. “NG.”
‘My god,’ the dark voice inside his head murmured, ‘you have a name, Nikolai, why don’t you use it?’ Condescending. Dripping with disdain. A corrosive whisper that ate at his soul.
NG looked up, raising his head slowly, a trickle of blood dripping into his eye from an injury he couldn’t remember.
“Pen,” he said quietly, blinking. Back in control but not completely back up to speed.
Pen Halligan was legendary amongst Mendhel’s field-ops. They adored the guy. NG had never seen it. Pen made no secret of the fact that he hated the guild and its hold on his brother, had no time for its games and did not rate NG.
The big man stood there, a massive shadow in the darkness. “Who killed my brother?”
‘He blames you for what happened.’
He probably had every right to.
“We don’t know,” NG said.
A switch was thrown and the cage flooded with light that stung the back of his eyeballs. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet.
Pen wasn’t convinced. He had a gun in his hand, held low down by his thigh, and he was tapping his finger against the trigger guard. NG didn’t need to delve into Pen’s mind to know that this larger than life underworld boss wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head if he played this wrong. It was hard to know how to play it at all. He couldn’t influence Pen. Never had been able to. Spec-ops trained minds were one thing, Pen Halligan was something else again.
“LC’s missing,” NG said quietly.
It was
a gamble to mention it.
Another dark cloud crossed Pen’s mind. He thought of LC and Hil as family. Strays who needed someone to take care of them. He would do anything to protect his own and it had always been clear that he didn’t count NG in that number. It was easy enough to read that he knew the shit the Thieves’ Guild was in, about the bounty on LC and he knew about the price on NG’s head. The big man raised his left hand, finger pointing, anger barely constrained, dark eyes flashing. He didn’t say what he wanted to, that NG might as well have pulled the trigger and killed Mendhel himself, that NG had been a damned fool and pushed the line too far this time.
“You had this coming,” he said finally, voice low and controlled, thinking that he’d told his brother, told Mendhel time and again that the damned Thieves’ Guild would get him killed. “What happened?”
It was a knife’s edge as to which way this was going to pan out.
“We don’t know,” NG said again and felt the gun barrel push against his skin.
Pen stared back, wanting to throw his own gun aside and lay into NG with his fists. He was also thinking, tempted but no real intention behind it, that he could kill NG right here, right now. Order Yan to pull the trigger. Claim the half a billion. Why the hell not? He had no allegiance to this cocky son of a bitch standing here in front of him, this son of a bitch who’d got his brother killed. “You’re upsetting some dangerous people, NG.”
This big man himself was dangerous people and the way he said it had an edge that NG had heard before.
Pen gestured around them. “Who are these bastards?”
NG didn’t move or say a word.
Pen took a step forward. “You come into my territory and you start killing people, I want to know. Who are these bastards?” He kicked at one of the guns lying at his feet. “They were trying very hard not to kill you.”
Pen and his guys had been watching. He’d had people watching the terminal and had followed him here. They’d stood back, watched him take out these mercenaries with ease and waited until he was done before coming in. NG read it clearly from Yan’s mind where there was a new level of respect there that he’d never get from Pen. Even so, they wouldn’t have cared if he had been killed.