Meanwhile, I had realized that I couldn’t just watch. Meanwhile it was clear that it wouldn’t do to just take out a few bosses. As long as the entire population ducked and allowed everything to be done unto them, any guy with a knife could keep them under control.
I had to wake the ordinary people up. I had to set an example, had to show them that resistance was possible. Even if none of them had abilities like mine—they were so many!
What was the best way to set such an example now? The more people had an opportunity to witness such an action, the better. It had to look impressive without truly hurting, if I didn’t want to stir up the leaders too much. I wasn’t ready yet to start an all-encompassing war.
Without much thinking about it, my feet carried me toward Times Square.
My skintight black suit stirred attention, and not just for the feminine shape it rather underlined than covered. The skull buckle at my belt contributed to the impression. People moved to the side when I approached, and whispered behind my back when they thought I could no longer hear them.
By all they saw, I might be a Syndicate killer. In any case, I was a woman who could afford to walk the nightly streets alone. Without a single visible weapon—and very surely no place to hide knives and guns—I radiated the necessary confidence.
The cops on double watch couldn’t miss that when I came around the corner of the chocolate shop.
“Hey!” one called after me. “Stop!”
I stopped and looked around just like some other pedestrians who he might have meant. But his shock stick definitely pointed at me when he approached me, with a little distance followed by his partner. Smiling, I waited—just out of sight of the next watch, but with numerous spectators.
“What can I do for you, officer?”
“What are you hangin’ around here alone?” he began a probably often practiced line. “I must ask you to come to the precinct with me.”
“And if I don’t like that?”
“Don’t be cocky, girl. Turn around and place your hands to the wall.”
I didn’t move until he was close and about to drive his stick into my belly—at that moment, I simply dodged to the side.
Now he was mad. “You—you!” he staggered with red head and waved his stick at me. I wasn’t eager for a sample from the metal tips, so I danced out of the way again.
His partner was just reaching to his hip to pull out his gun. I didn’t need this noise, so I grabbed the threatening shock stick, pulled it past me and served the officer a slap to his skull.
With a long leap, I covered the distance to his mate and sent him to sleep, too. Then I collected their service weapons and hurried away unchallenged.
Ghost, I need two thigh holsters. Camouflaged.
Next, I had the two acquired guns safely stowed away. The unfamiliar armament pulled heavily at my legs, but of course it complemented my appearance.
What would I do with it? Light further beacons. Along Tenth Avenue, I easily walked south. I avoided occasional police patrols by briefly camouflaging myself, like the night before. Unchallenged, but not unnoticed, I reached Fourth Street and turned east. The red mile might be a worthwhile destination—in any case it was a prestigious destination.
Moreover, it seemed sensible to me to create a wrong track this way, so that the search for me wouldn’t be limited to the wrong area.
I didn’t have to wait long for the first group of red tracksuits, and, of course, the four men couldn’t ignore my provocative appearance—nor could they ignore the two guns, against which they were helpless with their knives. They moved out of my way when I approached unhesitatingly, and let me pass.
Only when I turned my back on them, two of them pulled out their knives. One threw his blade into my back—that is, he tried, but I turned around in time to catch the blade and toss it into the second gangster’s hand, just raised for throwing.
The first thrower was as if paralyzed by my quick reaction. He didn’t even fight back when I attacked him and served him an unrestrained kick in the balls. He only rolled his eyeballs and collapsed.
Number two held his bleeding hand. The two remaining reds stared at me fearfully, although I kept my hands away from the pistol grips.
“Another one daring a dance with Velvet?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I wasn’t entirely sure what had awoken me—the first rays of sunlight tickling my nose, or the rock squirrel jumping across my bum?
Before I moved, I listened for the sounds around me. No withheld breath, no human heartbeat told of chance observers, so I could discard my camouflage as boulder and slowly stretch my stiff limbs.
After a few sips of water and a refreshing bath in the lake, I felt better.
My nanos formed jeans, tee shirt and sneakers. The police pistols had to remain buried. At breakfast, they’d only bother me.
This time, I wasn’t the first client at Joe’s place. All tables were occupied, and only Trevor sat alone. After having ordered my ample breakfast, I took a seat next to him.
“Morning, Trevor. If I may?”
“Sure, Jo. No one else would be eager to meet me anyway.”
“Why? Because of your job?”
“Must be. Although I’m only trying to earn a living. Already found something?”
“A garage, twenty blocks from here.”
“Cars? You know something about that?”
“A girl must see to get around. I can’t be picky.”
“Mmm—you could. With the right guy—but that’s not for everyone, sure. Forget my remark.”
“No matter. Already did that, too.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I pointed at his newspapers. “What important news isn’t in there today?”
He laughed, and then he leaned over to me. “Ever heard the name Velvet?”
“Yes—several times. Over in the west. What about her?”
“You know her? Anyway, she’s here now, in New York. Last night, she was seen several times, and the Syndicate is all up in arms. Anyone printing as much as a word about it will have an appearance on Times Square next Sunday, that’s the word. I shouldn’t even talk about it.”
My breakfast arrived, and Trevor held Joe’s arm. “Joe, please stay for a moment. Jo, what else do you know about this Velvet?”
The other people’s talks fell mute.
“She’s robbed the Cartel of some—things—amongst others in and around Las Vegas. Rumors have it, she’s cleared a secret Cartel factory in the ZONE out.” A murmur went through the room.
“And that woman’s still alive?”
“In Denver, she took out a Cartel killer,” I added. “If she’s in New York now, the Syndicate had better keep a firm grip around their wallets.”
“What does that woman look like?” one of the workers from the next table asked.
“Black hair, black high-necked suit, I’ve heard,” I replied truthfully. “And you only see her if she wants to be seen.”
“Why would someone like her come here?” another one asked.
“No idea,” I lied. “Because there’s a lot to gain here?”
I poked the fork into my scrambled eggs and so disconnected myself from the upcoming discussion. Joe returned behind his counter. Only Trevor didn’t give up. “If she’s so successful in the west, why doesn’t she stay there?”
“Cops?” I proposed. “No good times for thieves and hobos there. Strangers are hanged first, asked later.”
“That’s why you left there?”
I fed myself another fork of egg.
“Well, okay, it’s your business. One advice—don’t tell everyone about this Velvet. If the wrong people listen, you’re the next show act on Times Square. You don’t want that, believe me.”
Chapter Thirty
“Hello, beauty,” the Fool welcomed me and placed his guitar down.
“I wouldn’t have thought that Grieg’s Morning Mood could sound so good on guitar alone,” I returned.
“And I wouldn’t have thought that there would be anyone recognizing Grieg among my large audience.” He pointed at the pigeons around us.
Eva’s clients had stored great value in culture, and Eva had stored great value in her girls’ general educational background. For me, it had been fun, and especially Grieg was well suited as romantic background for a night full of passion.
I wondered whether I’d ever be so free in my life to simply hear music when I liked to. Perhaps with a tasty glass of red wine in one hand and a Dragon in the other arm?
“You’re looking sad,” the Fool noticed.
“I’d like to just enjoy the music once. But I have a job now and must be there on time.”
“Well, my music and I will still be here tonight. I’d like to play for you again.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have expected you to return,” Herb welcomed me. “You’re ten minutes early.”
“I thought I should learn two or three things first? Where the tools are, what I should do and what I should leave alone, who the others are, and perhaps where the bathroom is?”
“The blue door next to the office. You can change there.”
“Change?”
“Oh, true—you don’t have a boiler suit. Would be better, though, if you don’t wanna stain your stuff. I can sell you an old one, only forty dollars, we can take that from your first pay.”
Forty dollars for a used boiler suit? You don’t fool me, Herb! “I’ll bring my own tomorrow. Today, I’ll be careful.”
“Your business. When Vince arrives next, he’ll introduce you and tell you what to do.”
Of course, I was assigned to the dirtiest and most unpleasant tasks you could give to a temp. Tidying up the storage, including restacking old tires, sweeping and wiping shelves that had been untouched for decades, dumping oil from old stinkers, undercarriage washing—guaranteed to make you stand in the dirt raining down!—or giving a hand with dismantling a totally greasy crankshaft.
By noon, I was stained from head to toe with every kind of dirt you could find in a garage. I was only spared cleaning the toilet—for that, Herb employed an older woman who hardly spoke any English.
During my first two tasks, Vince still had called me sugarbaby. After I had bare-handedly billeted the small clan of black widows out of the storage, he spared us from such remarks.
“Hey, Jo, where did you put the box with circuit boards?” Herb called to me later.
“Didn’t touch it, lying on delta-three-seventeen,” I returned without hesitation.
“And the bus converters?”
“Delta-four-twenty-one, right left above.”
“Okaaay.”
“Don’t dream, come over and hand me up the gearbox,” Vince demanded and readjusted a spot to light the opening in the undercarriage above him. The massive gearbox rested two steps from his feet on a creeper.
I knew that the garage had a hoist to move heavy parts, but David and Robert were using it to mount a new engine block to a pickup.
So I plucked the gearbox up, hauled it on one shoulder and then lifted it into the gap. Heavy like hell!
“Okay,” the astonished Vince confirmed, but then quickly applied the mounts and fastened the screws. “Thanks, holds.”
“Fine.” I dropped my arms and wheezed heavily.
Vince patted my shoulder. “Good job, Jo. Short break?”
“Don’t need one.”
“I do. Come.”
Vince led me through a narrow door to a yard behind the house, produced a cigarette from his front pocket and a lighter from his trousers. “Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Too bad—no matter.” He lit his coffin nail. “Listen. I’m sorry for the dirt, but that was ordered by the boss. You should have taken the suit.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. Herb is basically okay, but when it’s about business, he knows no friends. Don’t argue with him, especially not about money, and you’re fine. And stay away from his clients, there he’s sensible.”
“Sure, Vince.”
“Fine. So, and now tell me what you can do. Surely you can offer more than muscles, can’t you?”
Indeed. So I provided Vince with a carefully filtered list of things I already had done around my own cars—without mentioning the self-built micro fusion reactor I had installed in my first all-terrain vehicle.
“Impressive,” he judged. “How did you get into that?”
“Well. I thought if I ever have a breakdown in the middle of nowhere, I don’t want to depend on others’ help. Who knows what’s on the next friendly helper’s mind, you know?”
Vince gazed down my body. “I see. There’s a quite attractive woman under all that dirt, you know? Well, you’re safe from me, as Marge would never forgive me.” He laughed, and then he extinguished his butt on top of an old fuel barrel. “Come, we must work on. If Herb asks, I’ve explained you some rules, okay?”
“Okay.”
Vince already had the hand on the door handle, but then froze in his movement. “Bloody Dragon crap,” he whispered.
“What is it?”
“Hush, quiet.” Slowly he moved to the side, freeing the small trellised window in the door. “Bloods.”
The name didn’t tell me anything, but the red tracksuits did. I spotted them with a quick glance through the window. Vince immediately pulled me back.
“Hey, away there. You don’t want them finding you here.”
“Why?”
“Did you already pay your union fee?”
“I’m not in the union.”
“Of course not. Yet everyone pays the fee.”
“And anyone working without fee must pay a penalty.”
“So you know.”
“Had that before.”
Then the door opened, and a red tracksuit gave us a mean grin.
Chapter Thirty-One
With all the dirt on my clothes, I didn’t have to try playing the innocent visitor.
“Hey, I’ve already paid last week,” Vince said and retreated backward, as far as the small yard allowed.
“It’s okay. And you, shorty? What about your fee?”
“Fuck yourself.”
“Pardon?”
“You understood me well. I won’t pay you bloodsuckers a single cent.”
He raised both eyebrows, and then pulled a knife out of his pocket. At the same time, he whistled aloud.
“So, you don’t want to? I think you haven’t found out who’s making the rules here yet. Scott!”
His mate with the wrestler body moved through the door behind him. “Yes, Bon?”
“Grab the short one and hold her. I have to teach her a lesson.”
“No!” Vince cried in despair.
“Stay out,” Bon demanded, very much suiting my own ideas.
Meanwhile, Scott grabbed for me. There wasn’t much space in the tiny backyard, but I had no difficulties in dodging him.
“Hands off!” I barked at him.
He didn’t want to listen, instead threw his entire body mass in my direction to nail me to the wall.
I’d almost managed to dash past him, but his right hand caught my dirty tee shirt.
The robust nano material withstood the stress, but before he could marvel about it, I had pushed my left under his fingers, tore his hand away and thereby disjointed several fingers. He cried out in pain, and to not let him forget my lesson, I immediately rammed one knee into his balls. He rolled his eyes, fell mute and dropped to the ground.
That was the sign for Bon to come for me with his knife. He might have believed in not needing special finesse, but I evaded this attack with another agile prance to the side.
“Bloody bitch!” he cursed and moved the sharp blade in my direction again. Vince took a hissing breath.
If they worked by their usual scheme, there were two more Bloods outside, and once they’d joined the game, it would become crowded back here. So, without mu
ch ado, I beat the arm with the blade aside and attacked Bon frontally. Two strikes against solar plexus and temples, and he collapsed.
First, I took his knife, and then his day takings. According to the thickness of the money pile, it had to be at least a thousand dollars.
“You may commence breathing now,” I advised Vince before I opened the door to the repair shop.
Bon and Scott’s two partners were still standing at the gate and peeking inside. If it wasn’t the absence of their mates that alarmed them, then it surely was the not-at-all-submissive way I approached them.
“Hey, whazzup?” the right one called. The other just produced a mobile phone. To call in reinforcements?
Two client vehicles were parking between them and me, so I couldn’t just jump at them. But the distance wasn’t too big to grab a wrench and throw it on target. Phone and tool dropped to the ground.
“Hey!”
Next, I was past the cars, and they both attacked me. I jumped up, kicked one against his chin and struck the other’s throat. Before I came down, ready to fight, both were already out of business.
“Holy crap,” Herb uttered. “What was that?”
I focused on him with regret. “I believe it’s better for you if I quit. Sorry for the trouble. What did they collect from you?”
“Four-hundred. But—”
I produced the money bundle and counted four hundred-dollar-notes. “Here.”
“But how?” Helpless, he pointed at the two limp figures before he took the offered money.
“When they wake up, tell them the best wishes from Velvet.”
“Velvet?”
“Ciao, Herb.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
No job, no home, only a bundle of stolen money and the nanos I carried on and in my body—that seemed to be my fate.
For Jo, the scout, the job with Herb would have been useful. Velvet didn’t need this cover role. Just the opposite, it only cost me time that I could spend more usefully. For example, to sleep by day and roam at night.
During the day, I needed a different hideout though. The last thing I needed was someone picking my boulder as a rest for his lunch break!
Lioness’ Legacy IV—Torment Page 10