by Jack Parker
"I've some idea," Emery remarked sarcastically.
Kurt reached a hand back to press on his chest and shush him, eyes remaining on Hennessey. "Money is no object, Mr. Hennessey. This can still be done another day, but as it stands it's best we leave now."
"Bollocks, I want that cunt now!" Hennessey griped, but the end of his sentence was punctuated by the sharp crack of a gunshot. Before they could properly register the noise for what it was the man to Hennessey's immediate right collapsed dead to the ground. This single gunshot was almost instantly followed by a barrage.
Kurt, Emery and Victor dove to the ground upon the sudden explosion of gunfire as Hennessey's men began to scramble in a panic to find the source. Kurt quickly ascertained from the ground that shots were being fired from within the building at the third story windows. He pulled his comrades with him and huddled against the wall directly beneath the shooters while the men around them fanned out to get a better angle, but with their assailants maintaining the high ground and hidden in the darkness of the floor above, it had the makings of a slaughter.
"Shit!" Victor cried, arms over his head where he crouched beside them. "What the fuck is this?!"
"A trap," Kurt said, pulling his gun. His blood boiled at the realization. They'd been expected. This was a set up—predicted. It was exactly the move Thompson had been waiting for and Kurt had led them all right into it. How could he have been so blind?
Emery's eyes were darting about above him. "We've got to get out from under this."
"You think? Agh!" Victor yelped as a bullet ricocheted off of the building wall mere inches from his shoulder.
"Around the back. There's an overhang—a blind spot where we can regroup," Kurt said.
"Okay, okay, go, go, go!" Victor made a shooing motion and they all rushed off towards Hennessey and a few of his retreating men.
"The west side, quickly," Kurt snapped at Hennessey, indicating with a gesture.
"You bloody prick, I—" Hennessey attempted to berate him there, but one of his men shoved him hard away from the approaching gunfire and they were forced to move, following after Kurt and the others to their best estimation of safety.
Kurt yanked Emery towards him as they skidded to a stop against the wall underneath the overhang, shortly followed by Victor and lastly a large group of Hennessey's men. Kurt immediately attempted to break the situation down. By the pattern of the gunfire he could tell that Thompson's men had not left the vantage point of the laboratory, but instead seemed to be baiting the men on the ground. The building was big enough to house all of the Thompson's forces, but Kurt knew that it didn't. Thompson always had a contingency plan. More gunman were waiting for them somewhere in the wings, which meant that this was likely a distraction.
"What the fuck is going on?" Hennessey demanded, gun held up, head whipping back and forth. "How the hell did they know we were coming?"
"The Dutchman has been spying on you for months," Kurt said. "I was aware that he was using Garner's spies to track your moves, but it's clear now that he must have at least one informant of his own in the mix."
"Can't trust anyone these days," Hennessey hissed, reloading his gun and looking to his men. "Come on, then. We're gonna swarm the bloody place at all sides, get in there, and kill every last one of 'em."
Kurt shook his head. "That's exactly what he wants. To lure you inside so that he can call in the rest of his forces and lay siege once you're trapped."
"Then what on earth do we do?" Emery asked.
Kurt pointed ahead. "Get to the back gate and rejoin with the others. Sod the element of surprise—we've lost it. We need to fall back and suss out the rest of Thompson's men."
"Now just a fucking minute," Hennessey barked, stopping Kurt, Emery, and Victor in their tracks. "I'm not taking orders from you, you pompous git. You're the one who got us into this mess in the first place!"
"Bullshit, this was your idea," Victor corrected heatedly. A few men raised their guns to him and he backed off with his hands up.
Kurt bent forward, glaring at Hennessey hard and trying to muster up all the placating deception he had learned from Emery over the years. "Quite right, Mr. Hennessey. This is your operation. Your men, your enemy, and your reputation on the line. You stand to lose the most of any of us should the wrong decision be made, so what, might I ask, would you have us do?"
Hennessey stared back at him, seeming suddenly at a loss. Bullets zinged closer to their cover.
"Time is a factor," Kurt reminded.
Hennessey sneered and held up his gun, gesturing at his men. "To the back gate, then. Come on, hurry it up."
Again the group ran, dodging fire, heading further along the back of the building away from the commotion. Kurt looked to Emery, who was on his mobile trying to get ahold of Faraday and Ludkov. After a moment he cursed and pulled the device from his ear. "They're not bloody answering," he said.
This didn't bode well. Kurt picked up his pace, heading up the pack, but then figures lurched from the shadows of the next overhang, guns aimed. Hennessey and company skidded to a halt with guns drawn. Three of Hennessey's men fired reactive shots and were instantly put down by three separate shooters with simultaneous precision. The rest of them began to skitter back. Kurt whipped around. More men seamlessly pulled from every corner of the compound and he recognized their faces. They were too late. Thompson's men were upon them.
"Drop your weapons," one of them ordered.
Hennessey's gunmen, who had seen what happened to their fallen comrades, readily obliged. Hennessey himself held a defiant outrage about his face, but he nevertheless chucked his handgun to the asphalt. Kurt shot Emery and Victor a look and they all followed suit. He looked around to the men closing in. These were men he'd worked with, men who had once followed his orders and averted their gazes in his presence. Men who were keenly aware that he had betrayed them.
Hennessey leaned back towards Kurt. "What's your plan now then, eh?" he demanded.
"I wouldn't ask him if I were you, Aaron," a voice replied, drawing all of their attention. From the cluster of bodies directly ahead of them came a familiar figure. He was thinner than remembered, a bit older. His face had new lines and his cheeks had sunken in, sprouting the unshaven beginnings of a red beard and sporting a haggard smirk. He was dressed as sharply as ever, one hand in his pocket while the other held a gun at his side. Casey Sheridan, in the flesh. His eyes locked with Kurt's, housing a familiar malevolence that over time had only become more crazed. "This guy can't follow a plan for shit."
Kurt could feel the breath leave Emery and Victor behind him, but he held Sheridan's gaze firmly in his own and kept his face straight.
Sheridan cocked his head, eyes flickering between Kurt, Emery, and Victor. "What a reunion this is."
"You fucking bastard…" Hennessey uttered in impotent fury.
Sheridan held up his hands, looking away with feigned guilt. "Yeah I know, I know. All these years and not so much as a Facebook poke. What can I say? I've been busy."
"Busy arse-licking the fucking Bratva?" Hennessey asked. "Working for the bloody Dutchman? Going behind my back after all I done for you?"
Sheridan snorted. "The Dutchman," he provided a set of quotation marks with his fingers. "Yeah, well. We go way back, me and him. Isn't that right, Kurt? Ol' buddy, ol' pal? Eh?"
Kurt said nothing.
"Oh how I missed that serious fucking mug," Sheridan gushed. "You haven't changed, Gabler. Not a bit. Still big, still mean and…oh, yeah." His eyes fell on Emery. "Still a goddamn traitor."
Hennessey, clearly displeased by his dismissal, butted back in. "Are you fucking mental?"
Sheridan's bloodshot eyes dragged back over to him.
"You gone barmy? Is that what this is?" Hennessey continued. "Because you'd fucking have to be to cross me like this. I took you up from nothing, you ungrateful little prick. Nothing. That's what you'd be without my help."
"Hey, look," Sheridan gestured with is gun. "I'm as
broken up as anyone about the way this turned out. You think I wanted to play nice with Russians? Huh? It's survival, Aaron. Besides, it's your own damn fault for coming out here. I was rooting for you to turn the other cheek, but you had to make it so easy. Not only did you bring your entire posse right to our doorstep to be wiped the hell out, but you brought every other goddamn enemy good old Mr. Dutch has ever made." He indicated Kurt and company. Then he looked again to Emery. "I'll bet that chatty little shit-eater sweet-talked you right into it, didn't he? Yeah. I'll bet."
"Sweet-talk nothing, you planned to off me from the start! You and your new friends!"
"Don't get all up in my ass just because I happen to have connections that you don't," Sheridan defended, pointing at himself with a hand. "And remind me again why the fuck I should be sentimental about this. Do you even remember that last time we saw each other? Because I do."
Hennessey was momentarily quiet, seeming somewhat confused, so Sheridan elaborated.
"You're not sure? Well, let me fill you in. What I remember is being hard up and down on my luck three years back. What I remember is asking you for a leg up. What I remember is you kicking my ass to the curb when I had the nerve to ask my old pal for a favor thinking he'd oblige, telling me to come back when I had some fucking money. I don't feel like that's the strictest sign of a healthy friendship."
Hennessey's eyes narrowed, then widened. "You mean the time you come to me tweaking out of your fucking mind asking for a bindle? …You're betraying me because I told once you to sleep off a sodding high?"
Sheridan held up his hands in a shrug. "A friend in need, am I right?"
"You worthless, slimy yank…" he replied in disbelief.
"Tit for tat, Hen," Sheridan said. "You don't have much room to talk, standing here with these three mooks. And it's your own fucking fault for not rolling over the first time the bigger dogs bared their teeth. How did you think this was all gonna end?"
"I'm gonna kill you for this, Casey," Hennessey growled. "You won't live past tonight, I can promise you that."
"So what you're telling me is that you're a liability?" Sheridan asked, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck.
Hennessey jerked forward furiously. "I'm telling you you're fucking dead, you two-faced, cocksucking wanker!"
Sheridan lifted his gun and fired a shot, striking Hennessey directly in the head. The men around him jumped back and everyone's eyes went with shock to watch his great fat body collapse to the ground. Kurt slowly looked back to Sheridan with unease. If he had no qualms about putting down a friend, he surely would have less when it came to Kurt and Emery. Emery's eyes were stuck on Hennessey's body with horror.
"You never did know when to shut your damn mouth," Sheridan said to the corpse. Then his attention shifted. "Aw, why so glum, Eaton?"
Emery looked to him with anger beginning to form in his features.
"Oh, I get it. I foiled your little plan," Sheridan acknowledged with a nod. "Well let me tell you something that'll cheer you right the fuck up: I'm not gonna shoot'cha."
Sheridan beckoned and a man came forward to snatch Emery by the arm. Kurt lunged instantly at them in response, but was grappled by two more and wrenched back. His fists clenched as he watched Emery shoved forward before Sheridan.
Sheridan looked on at him with a maniacal grin. "You know, it's funny how things work out. You're already supposed to be dead. You were supposed to be dead months ago. I put in a lot of effort to make sure that happened, and let me tell you, when I found out it didn't? Boy was I pissed. But in retrospect, it's a damn good thing you managed to escape that fate, Junior. A damn good thing."
Emery stared defiantly back at him.
"Ya look good, kid," Sheridan said, smacking his arm. "You've toughened up over the last few years, huh?"
"What is it you want?" Emery asked, straight to the point.
"What do I want?" Sheridan repeated, again pointing to himself. "Well, shit. I mean I guess fifty million pounds would be nice. It's a debt long overdue. But then again I'd also like a stiff drink and a Swedish underwear model, but instead I'm out here doing this. Sometimes life's not fair. Nah, Eaton. You're not here because of what I want. Him on the other hand?" Sheridan gestured to Kurt. "He's here precisely because of what I want."
Kurt jerked irritably in his captors' grasp and glared back. "Your grudge is between the two of us. Leave him be."
"That's fucking adorable," Sheridan decided. "But don't worry, Gabler. I'm not gonna kill your little princess. See, I meant it when I said I was glad he didn't fucking bite it like I originally planned. It was petty of me to want him dead, I'll admit that. I've got my flaws. I mean, it's not like I could've seen the look on your face when you realized his brain was a pavement stain somewhere, which is what I really wanted. But that's all a moot point now—lucky for him, when his dearly departed stepfather kicked the bucket, little Eaton here became a very, very important guy."
Emery was looking between them for a long moment before he set his mouth in a firm line. "Thompson wants me for my fortune, then."
Sheridan snorted. "No, he wants you for your cute little rosy cheeks. Yeah, man. He wants you for your money. So, that means I'm no longer at liberty to put a gun in your lying, dick-sucking mouth. And hey, I can't really blame you for what you did, right? You were kidnapped. I get it. I can let bygones be bygones. …But that doesn't mean I don't still owe you a tag-back."
Kurt could see Emery tense in anticipation of the blow, but he was still knocked down when a fist struck him across the jaw. He staggered clumsily to his knees and gripped his face. Rage burst in Kurt's head like a firecracker. Clearly Sheridan noticed this, because he was leering at Kurt with satisfaction afterwards.
"See?" Sheridan asked, bending over slightly. "Now we're even." Then he looked back to Kurt. "But we're not."
"My fortune is fully transferable," Emery sputtered with some effort from the ground, touching his bleeding lip. "All of it. But if you touch him, you'll never hold a penny of it, you can be sure of that."
"Bold words, kid, but I didn't drag Kurtie-pie here all the way back to London just to say hi."
Kurt narrowed his eyes slightly and Sheridan laughed.
"Come on, Kurt! You didn't really think you were called up from some bumfuck Canadian shanty because you were such a badass that we couldn't do this without you, did you? Fuck that's sad!" Sheridan shook his head, smirking down at Emery before looking back to him. "You're here because I said I wouldn't do what Thompson asked me to do without a fucking favor. And that favor was you."
Kurt was silent for a long moment as he processed this situation. Then it all began to fall into place. Beletski wanted Sheridan to exact a truce between the Bratva and Thompson, not the other way around. Thompson never actually intended to sway Hennessey or Beletski into working with him. He intended to destroy them both from the start. …Beletski must have realized this two years ago and sought out a known ally. Thompson's plans must have been several years in the making. "Thompson intends to use you to turn on Beletski," Kurt surmised aloud.
"Turn on? More like make a few…alterations to his business model. Namely who's in charge. No gonna lie, having my own mob sounded pretty cool. But when I was told Thompson was building up an army of mercs to back it up, who better to train them than you? Thompson was all for the idea. A little too for the idea. I guess you made a good fucking impression on the guy, because once you were here he went all fucking gaga over your stone cold ass and wouldn't let me near you until you'd finished the job. So I waited. I waited around for months thinking of all the ways I was gonna pay you back, and boy, it nearly drove me nuts. I only had a few more weeks to go. And then you went and fucked it all up by killing a shitload of those mercs and going AWOL—which copped the guy a big 'I told you so' from me—but he said he knew you'd be back. And sure enough, here we are."
"I spared you your life," Kurt reminded. "I gave you the opportunity to flee and you squandered it. You could have had y
our money and your freedom, but you chose your pride. I fail to see any wrongdoing on my part."
Sheridan's face leaned towards anger for a brief flash. "Oh. You do? So, going suddenly Brokeback in the middle of a job and killing a coworker and a friend of mine over some side piece is just hunky-dory in your book? I knew you were a bastard, man, but shit."
"I was the one who killed Sterling," Emery challenged, getting back to his feet.
"Don't press your luck," Sheridan advised heatedly. "Thompson told me to bring you to him, but he didn't specify if it had to be intact."
Emery was undeterred. "I was the one who convinced you to up the asking price so high as to stall payment for months. I was the one who successfully seduced your mate and got him on my side. I pulled off the act. I was the one who ran that kidnapping. You were just my puppet. And on top of it all, I was the one who got away with it, lived the next two years of my life in freedom, and then inherited an obscene fortune while you still sit toiling away in some other puppeteer's trap."
Sheridan gazed back at him with such malice that he looked as if he could breathe fire. Kurt's stomach clenched. He knew Emery was trying to distract him from directing his wrath at Kurt, and it was going to work all too well. "Stop," Kurt demanded, but he was uncertain to whom he was speaking.
Sheridan stared daggers into Emery's eyes for a few more moments before he suddenly snapped his fingers, a smile breaking out across his face. "Shit. You know what I just remembered?" He glanced at a few of his men. "You still owe me a finger."
Men grabbed at Emery from both sides. Kurt tried hard to break his hold and was nearly successful, causing one to draw his gun. Victor stepped in and threw himself at Kurt to hold him at bay while holding up a hand to try and display submission to the would-be shooter. Emery struggled against the hands that held him, apparently determined to be rebellious until the end.
Sheridan was taking a knife that was handed out to him. "In fact after two years I think I've accumulated some interest. Maybe I'll take your whole fucking hand. Hold him good, boys." Emery tried to jerk back, but his arm was yanked forward, thrust out towards Sheridan's waiting hand. He snatched Emery's wrist and looked down at the watch. He studied it for a moment and huffed. "Nice watch," he remarked. There was real fear now in Emery's eyes. "Too bad it's broken." Then he held up the knife and chopped down hard.