Factory Slayer, page 11
Great. Just great. I thought the hard part of this mission was over. I had this vision I would be able to just grab her and run. She’s refusing to leave the cell, and there’s no way I can hide the damage done getting inside.
Hell, should I just grab her and try to make a run for it? Looks like my only option.
I reach into my bosom and extract the six shot Derringer from inside. “I’ve got my own gun. We’ll be fine, I swear.”
“That’s not a gun. That’s a toy.” Julia shakes her head stubbornly. “The guards have real guns. Big guns, the kind soldiers use. They’ll kill us if we leave.”
Damn. Do I have to knock her out? The only problem is, she’s right. I don’t have the effective range, firepower, or ammunition the guards do. This might as well be a pea shooter for all the good it will do me.
I glance about, then notice another set of stairs at the end of the hallway. Stairs leading up. Does Chen have another floor, a hidden fourth level?
“Julia, where does that set of stairs lead?”
She blinks, her eyes growing thoughtful. “To the roof, I think. I was really tired when they brought me down here, but we landed on the roof in a helicopter.”
“Julia, we’re going to the roof. We can hide up there while we wait for backup from my team.”
“You have a team?”
“Of sorts.” I won’t mention it’s actually the Factory’s team. “Come on.”
Still, she won’t budge. “All right, if you come, I’ll let you talk to your grandmother. She really wants to hear from you.”
Julia seems cautiously optimistic. “But…but the men said she didn’t love me anymore. That she didn’t want me.”
“They lied. They’re the bad guys, right? Bad guys lie. I’m not lying, Julia.”
That’s exactly what the bad guys would say, but I can’t think of a better claim.
After another moment’s hesitation, Julia surges forward and takes my hand. I drag her behind me at a trot, leading her up the stairs onto the moonlight-washed roof.
“Stay down,” I whisper, dropping into a crouch. We find ourselves on a helipad. I dig out my phone and dial Veronica. “I have your kid, but we’re trapped on Chen’s roof. We need backup ASAP.”
“Is that my nona? Let me talk to her.”
“Okay, but, just for a second, and keep your voice down.”
I hand the phone over. “Nona?”
“Julia, thank God! I missed you so much, baby. Listen, the woman with you is my friend. She’s going to get you out, so you need to do whatever she says, okay?”
“Okay.” I take the phone back from Julia.
“Where’s the backup?”
“It’s ten minutes away. We’ll send a chopper once the scene is safe.”
“Fair enough. I’ll do what I can to set the stage.”
I look down at Julia. “I have to leave for a little while, Julia, but you have to stay here. Understand? Stay down flat, on your belly, and don’t move until I get back.”
Julia nods, far more cooperative now that she’s had a chance to talk to her mother. “Where are you going?”
“To go and deal with Mr. Chen,” I say coldly.
DAMON
The sounds of Roxy’s returning footsteps is a balm to my soul. She steps out onto the veranda with Chen and I, a sheepish smile on her face.
“I hope I haven’t missed anything.”
“There you are.” I stand up and take her hand, kissing it gently. “Is your tummy acting up again?”
C’mon, Roxy. Don’t act surprised, take it in stride…
To my immense relief, she doesn’t even twitch. “It is, I’m afraid, but I’m feeling better now.”
“Maybe we should depart?” I ask.
I can feel Chen’s disappointment, so thick you can cut it with a knife. Roxy shakes her head, and he relaxes.
“No, I’d really like to put something in my stomach other than alcohol. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes for me to feel better.”
Ten minutes. An oddly specific turn of phrase. I’m not sure what’s set to happen ten minutes from now, but, if Roxy wants that much time, I’ll do my best to give it to her.
I’d love to know what she’s planning so I can more properly prepare for it, but I’m not sure how to go about it.
Instead, I keep Chen talking to stall for time. Roxy picks up her knife and fork with delicate precision, cutting into her meat like a surgeon with a scalpel. She shaves off a tiny piece of sauce-drenched chicken and lifts it to her mouth. While listening to Chin, I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She chews the tiny bite a dozen times before swallowing.
“If you’re not feeling well,” Chen says, “perhaps you’d like to depart and return when you’re feeling better?”
Roxy smiles at him. “I would love nothing better than to come back again.”
Chen beams a smile at her. “Then I’ll look forward to it.”
“So long as I take my time eating, I think I’ll be okay.” Roxy continues to pick apart her meat slowly, bit by bit. I can tell she’s stalling, but for what? More importantly, does Chen know she’s stalling? So far he doesn’t seem suspicious, but that could change in a heartbeat.
I lean back and stroke her shoulder, kneading it with a husband’s familiarity. “Are you sure you’re okay, my love?”
Roxy coughs a bit, nearly choking on her food before washing it down with a sip of wine. I can feel the gun pressing into my ribcage in the shoulder holster. I’m willing to bet Chen knows I’m armed. We weren’t searched when we came onto the manor grounds. Was that professional courtesy? Or is Chen so arrogant he really thinks he’s untouchable? In any event, the time may come soon when I need it.
“I’m fine, dearest,” Roxy says. “Although, perhaps I should use the facilities one more time before we depart. Excuse me.”
Roxy rises from her seat, a pained grimace on her face as she clutches at her belly. To my eye it seems forced, contrived, but Chen seems to buy it.
“Such a pity she has digestion issues. Haven’t you been able to do anything about it? Medically, I mean.”
“She’s tried a cocktail of prescription drugs, but they don’t seem to work. The best guess anyone has is that it’s a psychosomatic symptom.”
“I see.” Chen nodded. “Ill humors in the mind are far more difficult to combat than those of the physical form.”
“I suppose we’re all just looking for spiders in the corners of our lives.”
Chen grins. “That’s good. May I steal that quote?”
I laugh softly. “Of course.”
Chen grows silent, running his hand up the leg of his ‘pet’ maid. “The thing is, Mr. Damon, I don’t see spiders in corners. I see monsters.”
“Dragons?”
He laughs. “In the occidental tradition, dragons are destroyers, beasts out to harm mankind and all he has created and holds dear. In our traditions, dragons are agents of the Celestial Bureaucracy, whose sole purpose is to protect and enlighten mankind. I suppose it’s one of many ways our societies are different.”
“Well, Mr. Chen, our societies might be different, but, personally, you and I are of like minds.”
Chen’s face splits in a wide grin, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes, that is certainly true. We are of like minds, are we not?”
“Similar tastes,” I say, forcing myself to leer at the youngish maid. I can hate myself for it later, right now I have to stay in character. Jesus Christ, I’ve negotiated huge deals with less anxiety than I feel right now. Feels like the acid in my belly is eating an ulcer into my stomach lining. Guess I’m the one who really has a nervous stomach.
“You know, perhaps you’d like to take Stacy with you for the evening? You can bring her back once your wife is feeling better.”
Like hell…wait a second. This is an opportunity to save another girl. “You are too generous, Mr. Chen. I’m sure my wife will be most enthused.”
“You have found the holy grail, Mr. Damon,” he salutes me with his tea, then extracts the silver cigar case from inside his blazer to take another one. “Cigar, Damon?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He takes out a metal cutter and expertly circumcises the ends of both cigars before handing me one. “Stacy, be a dear and light the man’s—”
Chen freezes. It takes me a moment to realize why, and then I hear it too: The sound of whirring chopper blades. There’s a helicopter incoming. Is this what Roxy has been stalling for all along?
“That’s odd. I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight.” He stands up, puffing on his cigar. “I’ll return momentarily once I’ve reached the heart of this matter.”
“Of course.”
A sharp crackle ripples through the night air, the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Chen’s eyes go wide.
All hell is breaking loose. Roxy must have called for reinforcements after all. Our eyes meet, and I can see realization dawn in his gaze. I go for my gun, but he pulls his first, moving with a celerity and grace which belies his advanced age.
“I knew there was something off about you. You were just too good to be true.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s too damn late now, isn’t it?”
I almost faint with relief when I see Roxy standing behind him, tiny pistol pointed his way.
ROXY
“Put the gun down, Chen,” I say, finger tightening around the trigger of my Derringer. “It’s over.”
“Nothing is over, you lying, mannish cow,” Chen sneers. “You put your gun down. Or your husband dies.”
A stab of fear hits me, but I do my best to cover it up. I laugh heartily. “You think he’s actually my husband? You’ve been had, Chen. And believe me, it’s worth more to me that you die than he live.”
“You’re bluffing,” Chen says.
“Am I?”
There’s a long moment where we stand off in a stalemate. So much as a sneeze could set us off into a frenzy of violence. The helicopter whirr grows louder. Gunfire peppers the night with sound.
Chen hears it, too. His shoulders slump, and he moves the gun away from Damon, much to my relief. I move forward to take it—
Quick as a striking snake, Chen switches targets to me. We fire at the same time. His shot goes wide. Mine does not. Chen falls onto the couch, holding a hand over his chest. I grab the gun from his nerveless fingers and toss it into the back yard.
“Are you okay?” I ask, helping Damon to his feet.
“I’m fine—look out!”
Pain explodes in the back of my head as I stagger forward. My vision grows dark at the edges, and only sheer force of will keeps me conscious. Chen beats feet out the veranda into the night, the vase he’d used to clobber me shattering on the hard floor. Funny, it didn’t break when he hit me over the head with it. It probably would have hurt less if it had broken.
“Roxy, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, shaking it off. “I’m just real, real pissed off.”
“How did Chen survive? You shot him right in the heart.”
“He must have been wearing a vest under his shirt. Guess he didn’t trust us as much as we thought. My pitiful weapon barely gave him a bruise.”
“We can’t let him get away.” Damon pulls out his own gun, the one I gave him what seems like forever ago, and moves as if to run after Chen.
“Are you nuts? It’s a war zone out there, the Factory vs. the PPM. We’d be caught in the crossfire.”
“He can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
“I have a feeling he won’t. Come on, let’s go. We have to get to the roof. There’s a chopper waiting for us.”
I take his hand and lead him to the edge of the veranda, where it connects with the center of the house. I flatten myself against the wall, and he follows suit.
“Roxy, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s not bad. Head wounds bleed worse than they look.”
I peer around the corner and spot one of the gunmen. Unfortunately, he spots me too. I duck back as a hail of gunfire tears the plaster wall to bits.
He’s a killer, ruthless…but he’s not a trained military man. That’s evident in the way he blows his wad. The gunman empties his clip, and, the second he does, I pop out around the corner and fire off a single round. It takes him in the throat. He slides down the wall, hand ripping a tapestry from its moorings to fall over him like a funeral shroud. We step over the growing bloodstain and continue on.
“How do we get to the roof?”
“Through Chen’s study. There’s a second staircase leading up.”
We run on through the hallway, passing priceless works of art as gunfire ripples in the yard outside. My head swivels about, checking every corner before we move on.
“Look out!” I shove Damon back behind me as two men with assault rifles appear in the corridor ahead. The rat-tat-tat of their assault shatters a Ming dynasty vase, turning the priceless relic into worthless scrap. I push Damon down closer to the floor; their high caliber rounds have no trouble penetrating the drywall.
A shower of white plaster and dust comes down on us, making us look as if we were caught in a snowstorm. These men either have more training or are more cautious than the one I just killed. They cease fire before they empty their magazines.
I pop up, hoping they don’t start firing again just yet, and peer through the bullet holes in the wall. I stuff the barrel of the Derringer inside and pump off a few rounds. I take one of the men in the thigh, and he falls to the floor. The other scrambles for cover.
“Roxy, wait!” Damon shouts, but I’m already moving, legs pumping, bare feet slapping on the floor. I’d kicked off my heels when all hell broke loose. I fire another round into the injured gunman’s forehead, silencing him permanently. His fellow peers out from behind a corner, and I dive into a desperate somersault.
Gunfire shatters the air again, and only luck and his frenetic aiming keep me alive. I come out of the somersault and fire again, my last bullet. I have to make it count…
The gunman’s mouth opens in a silent scream, blood erupting from his ruptured throat. He clutches at his neck as if trying to stem the flow. I grab his rifle, but, to my disgust, it’s out of ammo.
“Come on, we’re almost there,” I say. I grab Damon’s hand and we run toward Chen’s study. My head throbs from the recent blow, and I rolled over a piece of shattered ceramic and cut my back, but I don’t let it slow me down.
“There.” I push him ahead of me up the steps. We reach the hidden third floor, and Damon slows.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to open these doors. We have to save the girls.”
“No time, besides, I think Julia was the only one up here.”
We race down the corridor toward the waiting stairs. I get to the roof a pace behind him. The first thing I see is Julia on the chopper, face pressed against a window staring out at us. The second thing is that said helicopter is struggling to rise. Black smoke trails from near the rear rotor. They must have taken fire from the guards.
It looks like the fuel line was ruptured. It’s a miracle it hasn’t ignited. The chopper is on borrowed time, and probably lacks the power or time to land and extract us.
Fortunately, at least one man on board understand this. The side door slides open, and a rope ladder rolls out, its end clattering against the roof.
“Go, Damon,” I say.
He shakes his head stubbornly. “You first.”
“Damnit, Damon—”
“You. First.”
I sigh and scamper up the rope ladder. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Unlike a regular ladder, there’s nothing to brace against. Plus, the chopper moves about in gusts of wind.
I make it into the rear of the chopper, helped by a guy covered in full body armor. I turn around and see Damon struggling. He’s only halfway up the ladder. I hope he makes it before we run out of fuel.
But then Chen appears on the roof. He aims his pistol at Damon, firing off several shots. His wild shots don’t tag Damon, but they do shatter one of the rungs—the very one Damon clings to.
He plunges toward the roof, filling me with dread.
“We have to leave, now,” the pilot shouts.
No! I can’t leave Damon behind. I can’t leave him behind, because I love him.
I turn to the pilot. “Get her out of here.”
They shout in protest as I leap from the chopper, falling twenty feet to the roof. I hit, tuck, and roll, coming to a stop near the prone, groaning Damon.
Chen and I aim our weapons at each other and squeeze our respective triggers. Nothing happens.
“You’re out,” he sneers.
“So are you.”
Like Old West gunfighters, we stand ten paces apart, staring at each other as the chopper escapes the grounds. Gunfire continues to crackle around the manor grounds as the melee continues.
Chen doffs his coat, then unstraps the bulletproof vest he’d worn and drops it to the roof. I use my knife to cut my dress until it’s just above my knees, then toss the knife to the side. It’s too small to do any real damage to someone of Chen’s size.
We surge toward each other, primal screams of rage erupting from our throats, mingling with the gunfire in the night.
DAMON
I squirm up until I rest my back on the ledge surrounding the roof, my head throbbing. A cut on my hand bleeds freely, but I don’t think I took a bullet. Roxy and Chen rush toward each other as the helicopter leaves…where the fuck is it going? We’re still down here.
Roxy lashes out with a push kick at hip level, but Chen flows around her like water. Fuck, that little bastard can move. He snaps a knife edge chop at her throat, which Roxy blocks with her wrist.
I can see the alarm growing across her lovely face. She wasn’t expecting Chen to be so athletic, either. They engage in a beautiful, but deadly, ballet, limbs striking limbs as they seek an opening.
Then, Roxy lashes out with a knee to his sternum at the same time Chen lands an overhand right to her temple. Both combatants stumble backward, but only Roxy loses her footing.
