Session 28

Shadows punched through the windows of Spike's tenement building. Twisting and turning in his bed, he found no rest in the fevered dreams that had plagued him in the weeks following Vicious's vain folly. Tangled in the sheets, he wrestled with the kaleidoscope of images his mind dredged up.

Staring down the sight of a Beretta at the laughing face of a man. Beside him, Vicious curling his lip with a gun in his hand aimed dead center at the target. The first seductive kiss of adrenalin surged in him. Alive! That fleeting power pulsed within his veins. The initiation into a coursing race that never ends. The trigger pulled. The crack of the tandem gunfire. Laughter cut off in mid-breath …

Dashing down the dark alleyway, racing against the strides of another. Not just the target ahead, but the other boy. The faster he pushed himself, the higher the competition soared. His pulse thundered in his ears. The shink of a blade drawn from a sheath. The heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. That sadistic smile of victory lurking in the shadows …

Victim after victim ran in a parade, in every moment Vicious dogged his shoulder. Always pushing harder, always reaching higher. Never enough, the hollow hunger leeched into his blood like a serpent's venom.

In the dojo, toeing the line, Vicious grinned locking eyes with him. Savagery burned there … not the eyes of the child he had been. Overshot by the eyes of a predator on the prowl, target in sight …

Writhing and muttering, Spike's hand snaked under his pillow. His fingers wrapped around the grip of his Jericho.

The back of the armored truck. C-4 tapped on the door. The detonator in his hand … Bang!

Catapulted out of sleep, Spike held his gun out in front of him, eyes wide. Every beat of his racing heart shifted the gun. Nothing moved in the shadows of his apartment. Just the shadows of the raindrops pelting his window. A flare of lightning split the sky followed by a crash of thunder. He let go of the tension in his arms, dropping them into his lap.

"Of all the ridiculous … shit. If I wasn't so tired I'd go shoot the damn weather man."

Shutting his eyes, Spike tried to steady his breathing enough to fall back asleep. The phone vibrated on the make-shift nightstand. He sighed and snatched it up. "Yeah?"

"Spike. Are you awake?" Mao answered firmly.

"Sorta … why?"

"I need to speak with you, urgently. Can you be here in fifteen?"

He heaved a sigh. "Yeah, might need a shot of sake to wake me up, though."

"I'll get out the bottle. Hurry, Ironwall and I will be waiting."


The fire of the strong alcohol burned Spike's throat as it went down, banishing the fog. Mao folded his hands. "I apologize for the early hour. But I confess that I am relieved you brought the Swordfish."

Spike glanced at the stiff Ironwall seated on the couch beside Mao. "Alright, what's going on?"

"News on Krait's whereabouts." Ironwall lifted his chin. "Word is an info-broker in Reykholt knows where he's gone. Worse than that, he's brokering a deal with the White Tiger syndicate to sell Krait's stolen intel from our tower."

"Shit, what is it with info brokers lately? Do we know the nature of the intel?"

"No. But it can't happen." Ironwall tensed his fist. "If he managed to get the layout of the building we could have a breach from a more powerful syndicate than the Blue Snakes. In the meantime, we've warned the Van, they are taking safe command in the mother ship as we speak."

Spike poured another shot of the sake and downed it. "Who else knows about this?"

"No one, at this point. This includes the enemy being unaware of our interception. The plan is a surgical strike."

Mao lifted a hand toward Ironwall. "If Ironwall leaves Tharsis they will grow suspicious. However Spike, you regularly depart on drug runs for me. Your behavior won't trigger any alerts, if they even bother to track you."

"You want me to go to Reykholt and drag this info-broker back here?"

"No." Ironwall furrowed his brow. "We want you to go there, extract the info from the broker, then nail Krait's ass to the floor. Take a small team with you. Get this done without drawing attention to it."

"Full service, huh?" Spike cracked his neck. "Alright. What's the timeline?"

"Now." Ironwall sent a file to Spike's phone. "This is all we have on the guy, codename Songbird. Take off tonight. Who do you want me to send in as backup? I'll get them to you."

Standing up, Spike lit a cigarette. "Lin and Shin should be adequate."

"You sure you want to rely on young bloods? They'll be your only backup."

He glanced at Mao. "Just takin' a page out of the master book. I'll send word once I touch down. Let the hunt begin."


Against the horizon a streak of light blazed against the black. Mao and Ironwall watched the Swordfish's comet trail rise out of Tharsis.

"Mao, are you certain we've made the right choice?"

He nodded. "Spike has been in a slump lately. Not surprising considering the two were at odds before Vicious left without so much as a word. Too much left unsaid, and no way of saying it. He needed a distraction, one that gives him the latitude to think on his own. The smaller jobs were not enough. Besides," Mao grasped his hands behind his back, "there is a vendetta in this strike. One of Spike's early contacts was murdered by Krait's men."

Ironwall cocked his head. "Wait a moment … are you telling me that bar? The one Spike purchased after the fire? The Skeleton Key?"

Mao nodded. "The moment Krait is in a room with Spike will be his reckoning."


See you, Space Cowboy