by Dylan Rust
“Do I have to save your sorry ass again,” Jack said.
Tom groaned and grabbed Jack by the ankle. “Please,” he said. His voice sounded like air. It had no weight.
Jack picked Tom up and walked him over to a fridge he’d spotted in the garage. He placed Tom on the ground. He opened the fridge. Inside were two beers and a salad that looked like it was a couple days old. Something was better than nothing.
Jack cracked the beer and opened the salad.
He gave the beer to Tom.
Tom chugged it.
Jack handed Tom the salad.
Tom ate it like a dog. He put his whole head into the bowl.
“Thank you,” Tom said. “Thank you.”
“Igor didn’t kill you.”
“No,” Tom said. “His men came and went. They’d fed me cat food.” He took a few moments to collect himself, to burn out the memories. “The assholes was communicating with my father privately. They were trying to work out some deal for my return.”
“Your father?”
“He’s a state attorney in California,” Tom said.
“That doesn’t surprise me” Jack said.
“Fuck you,” Tom said.
“I can throw you back down in the dungeon if you’d like?”
Tom’s eyes broadened. “No,” he said. His voice trembled. “Please.”
“I’m not serious you dumb piece of shit,” Jack said.
“Did you kill the cop?” Tom asked.
“What do you think?”
Tom lifted his head up from the bowl of mouldy salad. A black, slimy leaf was stuck to his face. His eyes were red. His face gaunt. “No,” he said. “I don’t think you did. Claire was right about you.”
“His men have her,” Tom said. “She’s probably dead by now.”
“You’re alive,” Jack said. “I thought you were dead. Claire may be alive, too.”
Tom was feeling better. His stomach gurgled. He sat up. “What do we do now?”
“I’m going to The Dacha House. I’m going to put an end to this. I’m doing it my way.”
“Let me come with you,” Tom said.
“No.”
“Please,” Tom said. “Don’t leave me here.”
“Fine,” Jack said. “But don’t throw up on my seats. I’ll kick you to the curb.”
Tom nodded.
Jack pulled the car out of the garage and put his sister and Tom in the backseat.
He made his way to Little Odessa.
70
It was dark.
The sky was clear.
It was one of those rare nights in the city when you could see the odd twinkling star.
Jack drove to a multiple storey parking garage in Little Odessa. He parked his car on the top floor. It was empty. It would be safe. He opened the door and got out of the car and checked on his
ter and Tom. His sister was still unconscious. The weakened federal agent was asleep in the backseat.
There was some spit leaking from Tom’s mouth. It was about to hit the leather of the back seat.
Jack whacked Tom with his hand.
The federal agent woke up.
“Hey,” Jack said. “Wipe your mouth, will ya?”
Tom’s wiped his mouth. He looked around. He was scared, but quickly remembered that Jack had just rescued him. He shook his head. His body was trembling. He couldn’t control it.
The effects of the torture and capture would affect him for the rest of his life. He’d need therapy to come to terms with it all.
“Sorry,” Tom said.
“I bought you a cheeseburger,” Jack said. “It’s in the paper bag on the floor.”
“Are we at the club?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful,” Tom said.
Jack ignored Tom’s worry. He didn’t have time to be worried.
He looked at Tom and said, “If I don’t make it back, you’ll want to keep a low profile. Don’t trust anybody. Head to the bureau’s head office in DC and tell them what you know. Take Elaine with you. Igor’s influence should not have spread that far.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Serious?”
“You’re going into the club. You’re going to try to stop him on your own.”
“I’m doing what I should have done from the beginning.”
Tom shifted his body up in the backseat. He grabbed the paper bag from the floor.
“And don’t get any grease on the backseat,” Jack said.
He slammed the door shut and walked to his trunk.
He opened it up.
He grabbed the violin case and made his way to the street level of the parking garage.
He was one block east of the club.
He walked down the streets toward the club.
He could hear the booming music that was being played from within the club’s mainhall already. The beams of searchlights wavered back and forth in the horizon.
It didn’t take long for Jack to reach the club.
It was busy.
Busier than the night of the poker tournament.
He walked up to the bouncers standing guard.
He pulled his hat down low.
He walked into a puddle as he approached them. His shoes and jeans got wet.
The bouncers laughed.
Jack walked up to them, cutting in front of two young girls who were trying to make their way in.
“Excuse me,” he said to the girls.
“Hey, buddy,” the first bouncer said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The other bouncer laughed, and said, “If you think you’re getting into the club looking like tha…”
Jack wasn’t here to play games.
He wasn’t here to talk.
The games were over.
The talking was done.
He jabbed the bouncer in the throat. He made sure he hit the trachea, he could feel it.
The bouncer grabbed his throat. His windpipe was swelling. He couldn’t breathe. He might die. Jack didn’t care.
The next bouncer reached for his gun.
Jack punched him in the jaw and grabbed the bouncer’s hand. He guided the man’s hand and the man’s gun out of its holster and then put pressure on the trigger. The bullet ripped a hole in both sides of the man’s stomach.
The sound of the explosion caused the crowd outside to scream.
Jack quickly jabbed the bouncer in the throat and then put him in a choker hold.
He counted to three.
Both bouncers dropped at the same time.
They’d be dead in minutes. One from suffocation, the other from blood loss.
“The clubs open,” he said to the crowd.
Many of the people waiting to get entrance to the club ran. But The Dacha House is a criminal haven. Many of its patrons were used to murder and death. One quarter of the line remained. They walked into the club. Jack put himself into the middle of the pack.
The doors to the club opened.
Jack was inside.
71
Club security didn’t know what the fuck was going on.
They were overwhelmed. Scared.
Central security had already informed them that the club was on high alert, but they weren’t ready to deal with the hundred people that had just walked into the club.
Jack used their confusion to his advantage.
There were ten security guards working the check-in area. One of them spotted Jack. He walked up to to him.
Jack grabbed the guard’s arms, twisted them until he heard a crack in his wrist.
The guard screamed.
No one could hear him.
The small room that served as the second check-in spot was too busy. You couldn’t move an inch.
Jack then pulled out a combat knife and stabbed the guard in the heart. He pulled the blade out quick.
The guard dropped.
No one noticed.
Jack moved through the crowd.
<
br /> No one was blocking entrance to the mainhall.
He walked inside.
People rushed in behind him.
The music thundered. A large LED screen was lit behind the DJ on the stage. His bright, small silhouette bounced back and forth. Whether he saw the flurry of people rush the club or he was just feeling the general energy of the club, he increased the tempo of the song.
Jack didn’t know how many guards would be working the main floor.
He didn’t care.
He made his way inside.
Shot were fired.
The guards were trying to get control of the situation.
Good, Jack thought.
He could now fire his weapons and not create too much of a distraction. He straightened his jacket and rubbed his hand through his hair. He knew he didn’t look the part. He’d stand out like a sore thumb in the club. He wasn’t in a dress suit and he had nothing but the ball cap to conceal his face. Plus, he was still holding the violin case.
If any of Igor’s security got a good look, he’d be in trouble.
Six people pushed by him.
They were young, dressed in smart clothes. They were making their way to the dance floor.
Jack walked to the bathroom.
A guard noticed him.
“Hey!” the guard shouted.
Jack walked up to him before the guard could place his finger on his earpiece and communicate with club security. Jack pulled out his knife.
Two girls rushed past. One of them turned around to Jack and winked at him. He breasts bounced as she ran.
The guard noticed the young girls breasts. He watched them. He didn’t speak to central security. He waited. It cost him his life.
Jack rushed him and stabbed his knife into the guards throat.
The guard collapsed onto the ground. Blood spurted out of his wound. The crowd dancing on the floor thought the liquid on the floor was from a spilled drink, they thought the body belonged to someone who had too much.
Jack walked to the bathroom. He needed to let the chaos die down.
He kept his head low. He avoided looking anyone in the eye.
He opened the door.
He stepped inside.
He shut the door and breathed.
A man was inside washing his hands. The man turned around. It was the idiot.
“Hey!”
Jack stopped and reached for his gun. “Ryan,” he said.
“You came back?”
Jack pulled out his gun and aimed it at the man he’d played poker with.
“Don’t shoot,” Ryan said.
“Take off your jacket and pants,” Jack said.
“What?” Ryan said. “Are you asking…”
“Take them off,” Jack growled.
Ryan undressed.
Jack took off his clothes. He made sure the door of the bathroom stayed shut by moving a trashcan directly under its handle so it couldn’t turn.
Jack put on Ryan’s pants and jacket. He looked like a regular member of the club now.
Ryan put on his clothes.
Jack put the ball cap on his head.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ryan said.
“You don’t need to know,” Jack said.
“I can help.”
“No,” Jack said “You can’t.”
A toilet flushed. The door to one of the stalls opened. Out walked one of the guards. He was big, burly. He grabbed Ryan and put him in a choke hold.
“Put him down,” Jack said.
“Or what?” the burly guard said.
“Please,” Ryan yelped. “Help!”
The burly man held Ryan and took two steps toward Jack.
Jack walked backward. He kept him gun aimed at the man’s head.
The burly man squeezed Ryan until his neck cracked. He threw the corpse at Jack.
Jack fired.
He hit Ryan’s body.
Blood splattered onto the large man, who swung at Jack and hit him.
Jack fell to the ground. He dropped his gun.
He reached for the other in his holster but the burly man picked him up and thrust him into the ceramic tiled walls of the bathroom. The tiles cracked. Jack could feel his shoulder crack again. The injury that had healed while he was in solitary was now re-injured.
Jack punched the burly man in the gut. The burly man turned him away from the wall and threw him toward one of the stalls.
Jack tumbled into the stalls. He back cracked. From the corner of his eye, he saw his gun.
The burly man didn’t care about the gun. “I’m going to snap you in half,” he said.
Jack scrambled to the gun.
He gripped it with his fingers.
But the burly man stepped on his hand and kicked the gun away.
Jack screamed in pain.
With what strength he had left, he swept his leg across the ground.
The burly man tumbled downward and cracked the ground. His head hit the floor. A puff of blood shot out from his head and stained the white floor red.
Jack reached for the gun again.
He fingers extended.
He could feel it.
The X-TAC Elite slid across the floor. He pushed it. He couldn’t get a hold.
The burly man got up. He pushed himself up from his knees. He smiled.
“Igor’s going to make me one of his spies after I kill you,” he said. “I’m going to be next in line.” He laughed.
He grabbed Jack and pulled him from his gun.
He slid Jack along the floor.
Jack kicked the burly man in the crotch.
The burly man let go of Jack.
Jack scrambled once more for the gun. He reached it. He turned around.
The burly man’s face had turned red. He screamed and dove toward Jack.
Jack fired once.
The burly man’s body tumbled toward Jack. His head snapped back on account of the bullet Jack had just delivered to his skull.
His hulking mass landed on the floor.
Jack pushed himself away from the carnage, away from the blood.
The large man’s head was face first down on the ground. A large hole was in the back. Jack could see inside.
Jack got up and walked to the sink. He washed his hands and slicked his hands through his hair.
He stepped over Ryan’s body as he left the bathroom.
The poor asshole.
He should’ve kept his mouth shut and just done what he was told. He might’ve been alive if he’d done so.
72
Jack left the bathroom and walked out into the club.
Chaos had taken over the dance floor.
Club security were confused. They were trying to get a hold of the club. They couldn’t. The hundreds of new guests were making life difficult. They’d eventually just have to learn to accept it. Chaos was now the natural order.
Jack made his way into the middle of the dance floor. He’d have to if he wanted to get to the second floor of the club. The staircase up was on the opposite far side from the bathroom. He walked through the dance floor.
When he was close enough to security, they recognized him.
Thankfully, the music was loud enough that the patrons couldn’t hear Jack’s gunshots. He killed three huards in militaristic fashion. He held the gun close to their chest and fired, mercilessly. He looked into their eyes as he dropped their bodies.
The music never stopped.
The dancing continued.
Jack made his way to the staircase.
Four guards were standing guard just out front.
He dropped the violin case on the ground.
He knelt down and opened it.
The guards looked at him. He looked familiar. One of them approached.
Jack pulled out the 500. He aimed it at the four guards. They didn’t have a chance.
He fired.
They dropped.
Their bodies sprinkled with the pellets fired from the shot
gun.
Jack got up.
He ran.
The shots from his X-TACs might have gone undetected, but the blast from the shotgun was a different matter. He ran up the staircase. He could hear the shouts, screams and howls of the guards running behind him.
They knew he was in.
The real battle was about to begin.
73
Three naked women and a fat, stout naked man ran out of one of the rooms. They’d heard the gunfire and panicked. They ran past Jack.
Jack peeked around the corner he was hiding behind.
Their were four guards at the end of the hall.
Two with Makarov and Tokarev pistols, one with a Beretta 1301 Tactical shotgun, and one with an MP5 submachine gun. They couldn’t get a clean shot on Jack. They were holding him back. They were waiting from word from Igor and central security on when to rush him.
The corner Jack was hiding behind was being ripped apart by the gunfire. Wood chips, dust, and flakes of drywall littered the ground by his feet.
He was close to the top of the staircase that led down to the mainhall of the club. Every now and then a guard wold try running up, but Jack would drop him.
Jack’s quick and accurate fire was helped by the aluminum alloy frame of the two X-TACs, which made them light. The tactical laser attached to each gun made it easy to fire at targets with pinpoint precision.
There were four bodies on the staircase.
Despite the shooting. There were still guests in the club.
The loud, bass heavy electronic music was still playing.
And the laser lights and smoke machines were still operating.
One of the doors to one of the rooms opened. Jack peeked around the corner and saw his opportunity. He dual wielded the X-TACs and fired continuous shots.
The guards blocking the entrance to the third floor ducked for cover.
The open room was four yards from the corner he was hiding behind.
He rolled onto the ground and then rolled sideways into the open room.
He slammed the door shot.
Inside were two girls and another fat man. He was in a tuxedo and the girls were taking it off with his mouth. They hadn’t really started. The man was still mostly dressed.
“Get down,” Jack said to the girls.
The girls screamed and ran and hid one of the closets.