"Play it forward and be ready to stop when I say."
The video continued. "Stop. There." Fortinbras tapped the screen. "He killed the guard. There. This man killed the second guard. They are moving under the cover of the crowd. Look, there and there. These people see what the Betrayers are doing. They pull away from the crowd."
Gordo whistled.
Collins stared at the screen. "Who? Why? People's Union. Maybe they hired them."
Fortinbras shook his head. "No. They couldn't afford to hire mercenaries. Someone wants us to believe the Union is behind this so we'd strike at the wrong people."
"Why?" Collins' faced sagged and his shoulders slumped forward.
"Take over the town."
"But," Gordo said. "We're just recovering from the last devastation."
"I want you to hunt down every one of those sons-of-bitches and kill them, all of them," Collins said.
Fortinbras shook his head.
"Why?" he screamed.
"By now, the Betrayers are gone or they are hiding waiting for the gangs to enter the town. They usually do the job, take the money, and leave. If the Council finds they've killed, it's a death sentence. Someone planned this. Someone hired them. I'll find out who."
He didn't want to name Burkhart yet. Collins might do something crazy if he had a name.
"Where are the Legates from the Palace?" Fortinbras asked.
"Some are dead." Gordo nodded toward the video. "They were targeted. Some are still held up in the Palace or hiding or wounded."
"Send someone to find as many able-bodied Legates and other men as possible. We may have to fight to save the city. Secure this building. Put some snipers on the roof. Clear the plaza."
"Fight? It's over," Collins said.
"No, it's not." He glanced at Gordo, who was a known gossip and always had details. "Which cartel leaders were killed?"
"Mason's whole family. Gonzalez and his wife. His son's in the hospital. Jackson got his family out, but he's in the hospital with an amputated leg. He's mad as hell. Laurence is probably dead. His house is still burning. The nanny said they were all inside."
"So that leaves Burkhart and Collins."
"Me? My wife and son are dead. Burkhart's untouched." Collins' voice sounded incredulous.
Fortinbras watched as understanding spread over Collins' face. "That slimy son-of-a-bitch."
"I'll take care of Burkhart."
"I'll go with you," Gordo volunteered.
"No, go to the hospital and tell Jackson what's going on. He can get men to help. We have to secure the city first. The Neighborhood and the Wasteland need to be protected."
Orange Hope was his home. He wasn't about to let thugs destroy it. Quick action could put a plug in the gapping leadership hole.
PART IV
In the reception room, the secretary sat straight, staring at nothing. In trying to wipe away her mascara, she'd created a black ring around each eye. A frightened raccoon caught up in events. Fortinbras ignored her and went to Sophie, who stood on her chair, her face pressed against the window. Jo, an image of boredom and indifference, sat beside her swinging her legs.
"Hello," he said to Sophie.
She turned from the window and smiled, her full lips and mahogany hair reminding him of Olivia. Once he'd thought or hoped she was his daughter, but her piercing hazel eyes were twins to Collins' eyes.
"Mr. Fort. There's a fire." She pointed toward the Palace District.
"Last night you were at Mr. Burkhart's house?"
"Uh-huh. Sally and I played monkey and trees."
"Did you stay there all night?"
She shook her head. "Sally's dad was angry. He took everyone away. He wanted me to go home, but Sally cried, so I went with them to a big house."
"What big house?"
"The one by the beach." She smiled, showing the dimples in her cheeks.
Deep inside, a desire to hug her and tell her everything would be okay surfaced. He patted the top of her head instead and signaled Jo to follow him.
At the secretary's desk, he nodded toward Collins' daughter and whispered, "Stay with her. Anything happens to her, you'll answer to me."
She sucked in her breath and nodded.
Without asking permission, he took the secretary's phone and dialed Legate headquarters. He didn't want to make the call, but he didn't have a choice.
"Greetings, Fortinbras. News?"
Akbar's deep voice grounded him.
"Three cartel leaders are left. One's leg has been amputated; he's in the hospital. Collins is well. Burkhart caused the riots and fires. I assume he's trying to take over. He hired Betrayers. I think they might still be in town. Gangs will invade any time. The sun's coming up." Fortinbras waited through several seconds of silence.
"What exactly are you asking for?" Akbar asked.
"Do I have to say it?"
"Yes."
At least three previous times, the councilman had pressured him to make this decision, but he and the other Legates chose not to ask. As far as Fortinbras knew, he and his two friends were the only Legates left. That left the town wide open to gangs and ripe for invasion and looting.
"Martial law. Corday will negotiate the deal," Fortinbras said.
"Archangel and Corday are here. We've negotiated."
"I'll take the deal."
"Sight unseen?"
"Yes. I trust Corday. We need to act fast. Send Archangel and Corday to Burkhart's building. I'm headed there now."
Knowing Akbar wanted another decision from him, he hung up.
"Tell no one about this call," he told the secretary and signaled Jo to follow him.
Outside, the sun was peeking over the mountains, its light driving away the haze of dawn. He and the kid hopped into the waiting taxi.
"Take me to Second Street."
In the distance, the sound of airships grew closer. Fortinbras glanced up. There were ten airships. Akbar must have had the Legates standing ready. He hoped they were quick enough to drive the gangs back.
Burkhart's offices were two blocks away. There wasn't time to plan. He'd go with his gut.
"What did you find out?" he asked the kid.
"This Burkhart creep knocked the mom and daughter around. Sophia said they were fighting because she was playing with his kid. After he hit the mom, he turned on her." The kid grinned. "She grabbed his balls and pulled. She's the right height. She pulled and kicked him until he fell to the ground."
Raising her eyebrows, she laughed, but it was a forced hard sound, lacking mirth.
"Her daddy taught her that. When she let go, the wife got between them. One of Burkhart's men took her to the office."
"Wonder why they let her go?"
The kid shrugged. "She told them if they touched her, you were going to come after them. Her mother told her to always say that."
He grimaced.
A half a block away, he noticed a man slip into the walkway between the two buildings that opened onto the Burkhart Plaza. As the taxi neared their destination, he glimpsed a slender figure with flowing blond hair and dressed in black from head to toe. Fortinbras smiled. He didn't know how he managed but Archangel was already here, crouched atop the building facing Burkhart's offices. The sun glinted off the mirror he held, sending three flashes of light in Fortinbras' direction.
"Pull over. Stop." Fortinbras jumped out of the cart before it came to a stop.
Jo followed him, but he grabbed her and tossed her back in the cab. "You stay."
"No. Jason. I gotta find Jason."
"If you want to find Jason, then listen to me."
"Boy, he knows what to do. Let him do his job," the cabbie said.
Jo clenched her teeth and moved her jaw back and forth, glaring at him as fierce as a mama bear.
"There's at least four people over there who are dangerous, maybe more. At least two of them saw us coming. The longer I stay here arguing
with you, the more time they have to prepare for me. I'm not in the mood to get killed right now. You can join me when I take care of this."
Her eyes softened a bit. She nodded.
"Get out of sight and watch the kid," he told the cabby.
The driver peddled away before Fortinbras finished speaking.
Fortinbras crossed the street. Keeping close to the side of the adobe building, he slipped into the walkway to follow the man he'd seen earlier. The breezeway was empty. Two doors led into the buildings on each side of the concrete path. He watched for several seconds considering his options. He glanced up at the roof where Archangel leaned on the roof wall, grinning down at him. Stepping forward, he moved toward the first door on his right. Archangel shook his head, placed an arrow in his bow, and aimed. Seconds later Archangel's small silver arrow slammed into the door directly across from him. A small slit in the blinds opened. He stepped forward, tucked his head, and rolled left across the pavement. Glass shattered. Two bullets hit the ground where he'd been. He came up, hugging the wall between the door and window.
Glancing up, he pointed toward the window. Archangel, his long white hair tied back in a ponytail, nodded and held up two fingers. He placed an arrow with a tiny canister tip into his bow, wiggled his eyebrows up and down, and took aim.
Fortinbras slipped the Glocks out of his pockets, attached the silencers, and gave the archer a thumb up. Seconds later an arrow smashed through the window and smoke billowed through the broken glass. He waited, counting to himself. When he reached four, he raised his pistols. He shot the first man through the door between the eyes. The second man stumbled over his partner. Lurching forward, he managed to stay upright. Fortinbras shot him in the leg and kicked him on the backside, sending him forward to slide across the pavement. Snatching the man's gun, Fortinbras grabbed him by his long stringy hair and turned his head sideways, checking for the tattoo. He pulled the man's face up until he looked him in the eyes.
"You have one chance to answer my question. How many more are there?"
The man spat at him, dotting his duster with blood and saliva. Fortinbras raised his Glock to fire.
"Fort, you're crap at interrogation," Archangel said. "Hurt him some more and give him another chance."
Fortinbras glanced up at Archangel and shrugged.
"You have one more opportunity."
The Betrayer's brown eyes widened. "Fortinbras?"
"Repeating my name. That's how you're going to use your opportunity?"
"Six."
He released the man who slumped back against the wall and grabbed his leg trying to stop the bleeding.
"Six all together? Or six here and more with Burkhart?"
His face twisted in pain, the man considered Fortinbras. "Six in the plaza. Four or five in the building." He groaned. "I can't think straight. Blood loss. Five in the building."
An arrow whizzed past Fortinbras and struck the Betrayer in the heart. The man's eyes bulged, and he slumped back.
"Hey, I wasn't done."
"We haven't got time. Catch."
He tossed Fortinbras a walkie-talkie.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Corday shouted.
Fortinbras grinned up at Archangel before responding. "Interrogating and killing people."
"I'm inside the building, staring at the plaza. There are two Betrayers on either side when you walk out of that alley. They're waiting for you. There are two that Archangel can take out, both on roofs, north and south sides."
"I see them," Archangel said.
"There are two below me. One by the entrance. One to your left, when you come out."
"Sounds like a piece of cake," Fortinbras said.
"Yeah, cake with frosting. There are civilians, eighteen people, milling around the plaza. Wait, make that nineteen. The kid you left with the taxi, just broke loose from the driver."
"There he is," Archangel said. "Damn, he's gone. I can't see where he went."
"Ignore the kid," Corday said. "Let's move. Here's the plan."
Fortinbras didn't wait to hear the plan. He pocketed the walkie-talkie, signaled Archangel to move, and ran toward the plaza.
"Get down. Get down," he shouted as he ran.
As he exited the walkway, he tucked his head and rolled left, came up shooting before rolling right. At least two bullets chipped the concrete, missing him. Fortinbras stood. Pointing his pistols, he ignored the men behind him. Corday would take care of them. People around the plaza lay on the ground, covering their heads. Some whimpered. Some clutched another person. The men guarding the Burkhart Building's entrance had their guns aimed at him. He walked forward shooting, a strategy that always intimidated people. It was almost too easy. The guards froze. Picking them off was like target practice. They fell backward into the brick wall, red staining their shirts. He spotted Corday watching him from a second-floor window. On the same floor several windows down from where she stood, a man with an arrow in his chest, rested against the shattered window, his head pointed up as if he were contemplating the clouds.
The walkie-talkie crackled. "Cowboy, check for wounded." Corday sounded pissed.
"Do you see the kid?" Fortinbras asked.
"Forget the damn kid," Corday snapped.
"Anyone hurt?" Fortinbras shouted. One of the guards at the door moved and groaned. Fortinbras shot him, and he lay still. "Anyone else hurt?"
"Over here," a lady said, waving her hand.
The man she was with had passed out. A bullet caught him in the calf. Fortinbras reached for the rope in his pocket, cut off a short piece, and tied it around the man's leg.
"Anyone else?"
"There's a woman over here," Archangel shouted. "She'll be okay. Needs stitches. Two men, worse off."
Fortinbras scanned the crowd. People were helping each other up, whispering, and glancing in his direction. All were frightened, some didn't bother to hide their tear-streaked faces. Nearby, Fortinbras noticed two men from the Wasteland. He pointed to each of them.
"You're in charge of getting these people to the hospital." The men nodded and moved toward the wounded. "Everyone else get out of here. Now."
He watched as the ragtag populace limped and scurried away. He wanted to shout at someone. The blood stains on the concrete accused him of negligence. The killing, bystanders getting hurt, people dying, those things didn't get easier. His stomach clenched and knotted. Every killing, he hated himself a little more and sank a little deeper into his private hell. He had become the kind of man he despised. The kind of man his father would despise. No matter how many times he told himself he killed bad guys, he couldn't shake off the sense of doom that lingered in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if he was a good man or if he could be a good man. Was it possible in this crazy world to be better? It only took seconds for those thoughts to flitter through his mind and be dismissed.
An older woman with brown, thinning hair and a stooped back approached him. Frowning, she pointed to the flagpole on the second floor. He glanced in the direction she pointed. A teenage boy hung on the flagpole, dangling out over the street. Jason.
"Burkhart said he's dead for burnin' da Palace, but the boy was hung there before the fire."
"Did you see a kid run into the plaza before the shooting started."
The woman nodded and pointed to an alcove behind him. Jo huddled there with her hands pushing her head between her legs. He marched over to her. She glanced up as he approached. Her jaw muscles tightened and worked back and forth. Finally, her face settled into a hard, determined stare. Her eyes were wide and empty, even the greatest poet wouldn't be able to find the window to her soul. He nudged her.
"Jason's--"
"I know. We'll get him down. You okay?"
"Yeah."
She was okay, but not right. He recognized the blank look. He knew her iron-will would straighten her back, harden her heart, and make her thinking crooked.
"What's yo
ur name?" he asked the old woman who had followed him.
"Gabby."
"I'd like to hire you to move a package for me. Take him to the crematorium. Can you manage that?"
The woman nodded. "It ain't right. He was a boy. People doin' bad things."
"Find someone strong to help you. When you come back, stay over there with the taxi driver." He pointed across the street.
The walkie-talkie crackled to life.
"Fortinbras, get the hell up here. You stirred up a hornet's nest," Corday said.
He yanked the kid up and pulled her toward the building. There was no sense in telling her to stay put, she wasn't going to listen. Only a few steps into his march, she pulled back, digging in her heels.
"This way." She pointed back to the alcove.
He released her and followed her around the building to a backdoor, which stood open. He drew his pistol. Inside, a metal stairway led to the second floor and to their right a door with a large number one painted on it opened to the first floor.
"I'm in," he whispered into the walkie talkie. "Back of the building, a staircase leading up."
"I came in that way. It's clear."
"Kid's with me."
"Hell and damnation, Fort. You lost your mind?"
"Boy on the flagpole is the brother."
"Get up here."
The stairwell reeked of human waste and mildew. Archangel waited for them at the top of the stairs. "Hey, kid." He took Jo's hand and shook it. "Fort, Corday's pissed out of her mind." He chuckled. "I found a room for the kid. This way."
"Jo, my name's Jo."
Archangel open the door and waved the kid into the room.
"No, we'll get me brother first."
Archangel straightened, winking at Fortinbras. "Well, blondie, who put you in charge?"
"I did. We get me brother, and you can go kill more people. Make sure you kill that Burkhart guy. If you don't, I will."
Glancing at Fortinbras, Archangel whistled. "I like this kid."
Fortinbras considered Jo.
Fortinbras Page 4