You're Only Dead

by Jack Parker

  "I thought this would please you," Ludkov grumbled. "I am the reason Hennessey will not join us. If this is my doing then surely you will allow me the burden of changing his mind."

  Emery shook his head. "Haven't you been hearing us? He wants you dead. He'll kill you if you show up at his doorstep—why should he listen to you?"

  "You are a smart boy, Emery. Think this scenario through with your brain," Ludkov huffed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

  Emery hated few things more than intentional crypticism but Kurt immediately filled the gap.

  "He means that if we bring him to Hennessey it can only go one of two ways. Either Hennessey listens to Ludkov's story and believes it, or he will kill him on the spot. Whichever occurs, we've done as Hennessey asked and brought him Ludkov's head."

  Emery's jaw dropped slightly. "No."

  "No indeed," Georgie echoed, turning an appalled look on her former employer. "Shall you waltz into Beletski's den and attempt to shake hands as well? You know how this will play out."

  "I cannot see the future," Ludkov said simply.

  "He has a point. It's ballsy, but it's kind of a sure bet," Victor noted from the doorway to the kitchen he now lingered in.

  Georgie flung daggers back at him. "Just because Hennessey sees him as a scapegoat doesn't mean we're going to use him as one."

  "We're not sacrificing the man to get what we want," Emery agreed, looking to Kurt.

  Kurt regarded him cautiously before responding. "This isn't about getting what we want. It's about our best chance for survival."

  "All of our survival," Georgie clipped.

  "Georgiana," Ludkov said. It was with such unusual gentleness that it immediately shut her down, her face conflicted. His eyes went back to Kurt and Emery. "I did not ask for, nor do I require, approval on this matter. Now I suggest you contact Hennessey's man and tell him that we will be arriving shortly."

  * * *

  Emery didn't like this. It was one thing to claim to Hennessey that he didn't care about Ludkov's life, but it was another to willfully hand him over for butchering. Certainly he was a terror in his own right, but Ludkov was their ally. They owed their survival to him in large part. Delivering him into his would-be killer's hands, however, wasn't quite as unsettling to Emery as Ludkov's own readiness to be delivered. He turned to look at the older man sitting next to him in the van that McDermott had brought this time around—along with an armed thug once he'd heard who was to be accompanying them—and studied his stoic face. Ludkov didn't seem to be terribly worried about the upcoming meeting. Emery couldn't help but be concerned that this was a decision the man made not out of rationality, but resignation. Georgie had explicitly stated that he had nothing. No family, no friends, and now no name and no power. As bad as it felt to offer up a man for sacrifice, assisting in his suicide was somehow worse.

  The abandoned building in which they had met Hennessey an hour prior was no longer abandoned. A sizable group of gunmen were waiting to greet them at the door this time around, the angry, spitting, sneering type that preceded their gang's reputation. They stood in a line outside the entrance as the van pulled around to a stop, ready and willing to take prisoners. The doors around them opened and Emery took one last wary look at Ludkov before sliding out into the waiting escort. Kurt kept close to him with a threatening glower as a man moved to nudge Victor forward with the butt of his gun, successfully convincing the bloke to back off before he could try it. McDermott led the party onward into the mill and down the factory floor back to Hennessey's office.

  Hennessey was seated in his chair at the desk again, biting his thumb through a grimace of ire as he looked on at the tall blonde man in their midst. Guns remained pointed at them even as they stopped, one pushing Ludkov forward to stand solo before their leader. For a long moment no one said anything.

  Hennessey waved a hand, gesturing at Ludkov as he looked at Emery. "What in the fuck is this? I ordered this prick dead. You're a half-assed lot, aren't ya?"

  "A man is entitled to utter his last words to his killer himself, is he not?" Ludkov asked, hands in his pants pockets.

  Hennessey huffed angrily, leaning forward. "I don't give two shits what you have to say, Ludkov."

  "Of course you do not. You are a coward, and cowards like better to cover their eyes and ears when there is trouble."

  Emery tensed, a fist clenching at his side. What was this idiot doing? This was most certainly not the way to convince a man like Aaron Hennessey of anything. Beside him Victor was closing his eyes and wincing.

  Hennessey didn't seem to know how to react for a moment. "Fuck did you just say to me you big cunt?"

  Ludkov kept his eyes trained on Hennessey's face. "Cowards hide behind bluster. It is their nature. You must excuse Mr. Eaton and his friends, because they are young and naïve. They do not understand what it is they are dealing with. It is easy to be fooled by a frightened dog's bark if all you focus on are his teeth, and this is what those who have no experience with dogs will do."

  McDermott and the other men were staring at Hennessey in guarded astonishment, awaiting his reply. His eyes were narrowed, lip curled, clearly confused by the audacity but rage was quickly mounting. "Me? A coward? That's a bloody laugh coming from someone who's been hidin' behind a pakhan his whole life because he don't have the stones to do his own business."

  "You see? There," Ludkov said boldly, pointing a finger. "That is a bark. But I do not see your teeth, Hennessey. All I see is the tail between your legs."

  Hennessey scoffed, then turned, eyeing McDermott before snatching the gun off him and pointing it at Ludkov. "What you're about to see is your pathetic excuse for a brain painting my floor."

  "You lie to Mr. Eaton," Ludkov pressed, face serious. "He approaches you with a warning that a known wolf is coming for your throat and you claim to him that you do not care. The truth is that you already planned to attack this enemy months ago. You stockpiled weaponry for this purpose, did you not? But now, with it gone, you do not suppose you can best him. You fear defeat. You fear the Dutchman."

  "I only planned to shoot you," Hennessey said. "Now that don't seem good enough. Maybe I ought to take a tip from your old pal and find me some acid. Would you like your cock to match your hands, you bleedin' shit? Because that's all this self-righteous little speech'll get you."

  Ludkov shrugged. "You will do to me what it is you will do to me. I did not come here to change your mind. I came here because an allegation has been made against me and I have the right to refute it."

  "Is that right?" Hennessey stood up, leaning over his desk as he stared the man down. "You gonna beg me for your life by tellin' me it wasn't you who shot Casey? By tryin' to convince me it was one of your little mush mouth mates who done the deed? And after you just got finished tellin' me I was a coward…"

  "I will not deny shooting him, but I will deny killing him because he is not dead. He is merely working for Beletski now."

  Hennessey kept his defiant scowl, looking unimpressed, but Emery couldn't help but notice the sudden livid pulse across McDermott's features beside him. "Is that really the best you got?" Hennessey dismissed.

  Ludkov went on. "This is the reason for his disappearance. This is why no body was ever recovered; why his death is a rumor and not a fact."

  "Rubbish," Hennessey snapped. "He'd've rather died than work with the Russians."

  "This is the sentiment he expressed to me verbatim. But then the reality of that choice was made evident to him, and he chose life."

  Hennessey chuckled gruffly. "I knew Casey Sheridan since before he was Casey Sheridan. You've got to be the dumbest prick alive to think I'd hear something as cockamamie as all this."

  "It is the truth. I myself sent him to my superiors on Beletski's orders two years ago. This is where he has been since."

  Hennessey spent a long while studying Ludkov, hand fidgeting with a pen on the desk in contemplation. Then his expression grew indignant. "So what? Even if Casey is a
live, which he ain't, all you're telling me is that you abducted him and let your cocksucking mates hold him prisoner."

  Ludkov reached into his jacket and guns went up, causing him to slow his reach. After a tense pause he produced a piece of paper. Emery squinted in attempt to see what it was, flustered by the prospect of yet more unexamined evidence in this case, but couldn't make it out. Ludkov flung it onto Hennessey's desk. "Prisoners do not get paid."

  Hennessey gave him a glare before snatching the paper up and looking it over. McDermott leaned over his shoulder curiously as well while Ludkov began to explain.

  "My men obtained the financial records of your old friend Geoffrey Garner. Most of its contents were sent up the chain, but one page in particular caught my interest. Enough that I kept it for myself. On this page, for the date of June 11th, 2016, you will see a transaction between Garner and a Mr. Casper Jamison Barclay—Casey Sheridan, nearly two years after his supposed death."

  Emery felt a brief whirlwind of emotions. Anger that Ludkov had concealed this, shock at its implication, a distant shred of optimism. He looked to Kurt, whose mouth was set in a firm line.

  Hennessey's eyes raked over the page again and again, lips moving silently around the words he was reading. His face wavered between suspicion and surprise before settling on fury.

  "That fucking gobshite," McDermott growled above him.

  Ludkov continued. "You have the wrong friends, Hennessey. And most assuredly the wrong enemies."

  Hennessey crumpled up the paper in his fist and pitched it against a far wall, teeth clenched and hands making intermittent fists while his eyes darted back and forth.

  Emery carefully stepped back in, making sure that Ludkov caught his reproachful look before speaking. "Sheridan has chosen his side and it's not yours. On top of that he's trying to make you look the fool. He nearly conned you into killing one of his enemies on his behalf. Clearly your history together is meaningless to him."

  Hennessey locked eyes with him for a moment, his face red and crazed and Emery wasn't sure he didn't trigger something terrible just then. "Where is he? Where is the bastard?"

  "If he's being paid through Garner then he's most probably in London. Alongside the Dutchman," Kurt informed.

  "Kenneth," Hennessey snapped.

  McDermott quickly responded to this address. "Boss?"

  "Round up the boys. All of 'em."

  McDermott shot a glance to Emery and Ludkov before lowering his tone. "We don't have enough guns. We don't have enough blokes with the wherewithal to shoot 'em even if we did."

  "They work for me, don't they?" Hennessey demanded. "Tell them if they want to keep on they'll fucking do it! Because come tomorrow night we're coming for that wily little tosser and his new friends. I want 'em dead. Every last one."

  Emery pursed his lips. "Tomorrow? We need more time to plan, time to—"

  "This is what you wanted and it's what you got you cheeky, spoiled little cunt," Hennessey threatened, giving him another hostile look. "I accept your offer. We're partners. You give me your fucking funds and I'll give you my boys. But we're doing it my way. Understand?"

  Emery knew he was bested here. He bowed his head, biting back a sigh and nodding. "Of course."

  "Good. Now," Hennessey slowly stood, planting his hands on his desk as he leaned forward. "Where does this fucking Dutchman sleep?"

  All eyes of the group turned inward at Kurt, who stepped forward.

  * * *

  A few hours later, when a vague plan had been set into motion, Kurt found himself unsure of the encounter's results. Hennessey had been successfully provoked, but was determined to throw his gang into the mix with little to no forethought. He would call in all available forces overnight to his hideout where he would prep and deploy them the following day based on Kurt's description of Thompson's stronghold. This was precisely what they had aimed to achieve, but Kurt couldn't get past his niggling intuition that something was wrong. He kept to himself when they arrived back at the safe house as he tried to work this out, excusing himself to the balcony as the sky began to darken to blackness while the others milled about inside getting something to eat.

  Kurt hardly remembered the day he first met Casey Sheridan. It was such an incidental, forgettable job from his perspective, but Sheridan had clearly remembered the event with reverence, as he had retained an affinity for Kurt years afterwards. The feeling was not mutual but he came to learn that involvement with Sheridan meant consistent work. Though volatile and obnoxious, his gumption was often useful and his plans more often successful than not. He was a man who flourished in the criminal world and one who remained there by choice. There was no true necessity to his actions. Instead he treated his profession like a game and his cohorts like his friends, always with the jeers and the banter, the informality and his constant utterance of "good man, good man" that Kurt had been so sick of hearing. It was a condescension he'd often reserved just for Kurt, the way one praises a dog. In the end he supposed that's how Sheridan expected his men to behave. But just because Kurt did not consider him a friend did not mean he felt nothing, as sure as he had been that such was the case two years ago. Before Emery he had been certain that his feelings for others were long gone. And yet he was not willing to kill Sheridan without immediate cause when the time had come. Instead he'd told him to run.

  Kurt had never once considered the possibility that Sheridan had not been killed. At the time he'd had no reason to suspect that Ludkov was lying. But he knew what kind of man Sheridan was. Grudge bearing. Dedicated to his goals. Connected and persuasive. And his last words to Kurt had been to vow his revenge. He couldn't help but wonder now: had that revenge been circumvented by the Bratva's interest in him, or had it been a plot two years in the making only just now coming to fruition?

  Kurt turned his head as the patio door opened and Emery joined him, closing the door behind him as he stepped onto the balcony. "You alright?" he asked tentatively.

  Kurt looked on at him for a while before shaking his head. "Something about this is all wrong."

  Emery approached his side and leaned over the railing with him. "You'd mentioned that before, but what do you mean by it? I feel as though I'm missing something."

  Kurt sighed, twisting his hands around the metal railing. "The reason Thompson gave for having abducted me was that I was to replace Sheridan in his plot against Hennessey. It was his assertion that since he held me responsible for killing the only man who could have brought about a truce, I was the one responsible for leading the coming war. But if the Bratva had Sheridan all the while…it simply doesn't add up."

  Emery shrugged. "Perhaps Thompson truly didn't know about Sheridan. Beletski and Ludkov managed to keep that one secret from everyone else, after all. Don't you think that's possible?"

  Kurt paused for a long moment to consider this before responding. "No."

  "Then perhaps he just lied," Emery suggested.

  "To what end? Why should he go out of his way to hunt me down and drag me back to London if he didn't need me? Am I really so extraordinary in the grand scheme of things?"

  Emery smiled cheerily. "I think so."

  Kurt looked away and gathered his thoughts. "…It isn't just that. It's all of this," he said, looking over his shoulder where the others could be seen moving about.

  "All of what?"

  "Us, being here, in this flat. I've been missing from Thompson's clutches for some time now, and yet we've seen no evidence whatsoever that we're being looked for. We've been patrolling every night and have seen nothing. This is a man who makes his living finding the invisible at all costs and here I am sitting in relative plain sight. If he hasn't found me then it's because he isn't looking...or it's because he already has, and is merely awaiting my next move."

  Emery slid a mint into his mouth from the package that Kurt had given him earlier as he considered this. Kurt didn't realize he was leaning in with anticipation for him to speak until their elbows touched. Evidently he'd miss
ed Emery's input more than he knew. Emery looked up at him seriously for a moment, but he must have been wearing his tension plainly on his face because Emery's features turned a little worried. "I don't know. What I do know is that you aren't going to help yourself fretting like this. There isn't a thing we can do but go along with our best option at the moment, and as much as it pains me to know it, that option is following Hennessey."

  Kurt nodded and leaned forward over the railing again. He didn't know what he had expected. Clever as Emery was, he didn't know Thompson, and he hardly knew Sheridan.

  "It's cold out," Emery said. "Why don't you come inside?"

  "I'm alright," Kurt replied without looking over.

  "No. You're not."

  This time Kurt did turn, numbly gazing into a pair of clear blue eyes.

  Emery frowned. "I know what's done is done, but Kurt…I've got to ask. What happened to you these past six weeks? What have you done that you fancy is so terrible?"

  Kurt stared back at him and guilt churned hot in his stomach. Emery wanted answers and he deserved them, but to have to admit what he'd allowed himself to become was daunting. At the same time he couldn't hide his sins forever. Not from Emery. He turned his attention to his hands on the railing and sighed quietly. "…I became the killer I once told you I was."

  "You've killed before. So have I."

  "To survive. I wasn't killing men to survive. I was killing them to further a despicable organization, to aid a man who threatened to hurt you. I abided by things I never should have abided by. I was…" Kurt swallowed, pausing for a long moment. Then he straightened up and accepted his onus. "I allowed a child to be killed."

  He could feel Emery recoil in shock even though he barely moved. "What?"

  Kurt's resolve dampened at the idea of Emery's disappointment, but he pushed on. "I was tasked with intimidating some prosecutor who was putting away Thompson's men. Another man was with me, Keller…It was his operation and I was forced to partner with him. He was a blaggard and a snake who reveled in reminding me that your life hung in the balance at every turn. I despised him of course, but I had pushed the part of me that makes moral judgments to the wayside during my employment under Thompson. I couldn't manage it any other way. During this home invasion the prosecutor's daughter stumbled upon us and…If I hadn't been so busy telling myself that I was a heartless brute, I might've had the faculty to save her in time. Instead I watched Keller gun her down in front of her father and couldn't do a thing to stop it."