This story is based on the 'Gunsmith Cats' manga by Kenichi Sonoda, with a few elements from the 'Riding Bean' OAV (1989). It is set after the last published manga in English as of March 2005.
Tell me what you thought of it, no matter what you have to say. I'm a big girl. :) I always welcome reader reactions, especially ones that go into detail. Please email me at MmeManga "at" aol dot com (address spelled out because this site strips all email addys and URLS) or leave your comments here.
NOTE: The complete version of this story is housed at my Livejournal, which is linked on my main page on this site. I have removed large sections of chapters Two, Eight and Thirty from the postings here because of the current site rules, although this story existed on the site long before those rules went into effect. I am sorry for any inconvenience to readers; this factor is unfortunately not under my control. The complete version will also be posted at Mediaminer. My former dedicated Gunsmith Cats site no longer exists.
DISCLAIMER: Characters of RALLY VINCENT, BEAN BANDIT, MAY HOPKINS, ROY COLEMAN, KEN TAKI copyright Kenichi Sonoda. All other characters, and story, copyright 2000--2005 by Madame Manga. Contact by email at MmeManga Do not sell or print for sale without the express written permission of the author. Do not archive. Permission is granted to circulate this text in electronic form, free of charge and with this disclaimer and the author's name attached. Do not plagiarize, alter, or appropriate this text in any way. This story is intended for personal entertainment purposes only. No infringement of any copyrights or other rights is intended.
ADULT CONTENT WARNING IN BOLD CAPS!
This story is not for kids or the easily offended. It contains explicit violence and extreme profanity. If you object to reading such things, do not read this story.
Chasing the Dragon
by Madame Manga
Chapter Twenty
"I have thrown a hexagram three times." 426 cupped three worn bronze coins in his hand. "It is different each time, but it's odd…"
"What's odd, sir?" Wo locked the door of the storage closet and came towards 426 where he sat at his computer.
"I've written the questions and the answering hexagrams here." 426 laid the coins on a yellow legal pad on the table next to the keyboard. In pencil, there were three lines of scrawled characters and three stacked arrangements of horizontal lines, long and short. "Gu, Kan, Jian. They are not propitious, but I confess that the interpretation eludes me."
"Uh…I'm sorry, sir. I don't have the I Ching memorized." Wo frowned at the characters, apparently having trouble making them out.
"No?" 426 passed his fingertips down the first line of characters. "Gu is decay. I asked a question about the future of the Triad. Kan is double bind." He put his lightly closed fists together. "I asked a question about the prospects for my immediate plans." He placed his hands palm to palm. "Jian is obstruction. The question was if anyone remained to thwart those plans."
"Oh."
"Not propitious at all. But that makes little sense. I have covered for every contingency." 426 shook his head and put the coins into the inner breast pocket of his suit coat. "Ah well. It's only fortune-telling."
Someone knocked on the pedestrian door by the side of the main garage door, and both men looked up. 426 saved his spreadsheet and turned the computer off. "That must be 213 and his men. Please go open the door for them." Wo jogged up the driveway ramp and opened the pedestrian door a crack, then pressed a button to raise the main door.
Three large Lincoln Town Cars with rental plates came down the ramp and parked in the middle of the garage, and a man got out of the first, bowing as he emerged. He was a tall, pinched-face Chinese in slacks and windbreaker.
"It's good to see you, 213. Welcome to my headquarters, such as it is."
"Honored Red Pole," said 213, shaking hands. "It has been too long."
Ten more men, most of them lean young Vietnamese, emerged from the cars. Each man bowed to 426 and received a nod in return, then took a place in line, jostling a bit for position. "Sir, this is 42, and this is 51." 213 indicated the only two Chinese among the soldiers. The Vietnamese looked at each other as their superiors spoke in Cantonese; they seemed sullen and uncertain, shifting their postures frequently.
"I greet you, Triads," said 426 in English, walking the line as if for a military inspection. "And I greet you, soldiers. All of you are welcome, and valuable to our efforts." The Vietnamese looked unconvinced, a couple of them whispering to each other in their own language.
"Silence!" said 213, and they subsided, rolling their eyes.
426 ignored them. "213, come with me for a moment." He walked to the storage closet, Wo unlocking the door for him. "I would like to introduce you to Agent Edward Bui of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Inside, the air was thick and hot and stifling. By one wall, a set of metal bedsprings lay on the floor, wires attached to it extending to two car batteries. Additional wires equipped with large alligator clips tangled with the bedsprings. If a man had lain on the bedsprings, the clips would have been at the levels of his feet, genitals, nipples and tongue. The only light, a battery lantern hanging on the wall, shone out a white beam slightly obscured with drifting incense smoke. Another smell hung in the air, a stink of hot wires, urine and charred flesh; the incense didn't cover it entirely.
"He is our guest for the moment. Agent Bui, this is 213, the head of operations for the Los Angeles division of the Eight Dragon Triad."
Bui's head lolled on his shoulders; he gave out an inarticulate moan. Tied to a chair with strips of wire cable, he slumped inert, his pupils dilated and his mouth slack. Wo put a hand under his chin and raised his face. Bruised and cut, it was purple and swollen almost beyond recognition. Saliva ran down Bui's cheek and he let out another moan.
"I see our guest is not able to speak, but that is of little moment. Wo, where are Manichetti and Macapang? I expected them back an hour ago."
"I don't know, sir. I'll have to go outside to use my cell phone…"
"No, not now." 426 shook his head. "Perhaps they are trying to call us—this garage leaves something to be desired as a headquarters."
"Yeh can say that again," came a growling voice behind them, accompanied by the creak of a wheelchair and the whirr of its electric motor. "Wo, dammit, I need me dose!" O'Toole glared up at them, his face grey and sweating. "Just give me the damn morphine, an' I'll fix me own shots! I'm near done for!" His fresh bullet wounds had been bandaged and his left arm was in a sling.
"Give him half a dozen ampules," said 426 with a sigh. "Apparently he's becoming resistant to the drugs." Wo went to a small safe and opened it with a few twirls of the dial; it held a few wads of greenbacks, stacks of documents and several boxes with pharmaceutical labels. O'Toole grabbed his drugs and wheeled out, an avid smile on his face.
426 turned to the tall man. "213, you may call your soldiers into the room. This meeting concerns them. Is another carload coming?" He looked out the door at the group of men.
"Uh…no, sir. This is all."
"You have brought all of your men to San Francisco with you?"
"Yes, sir," replied 213. His left eyelid had a nervous tic. "All of the men who answered the summons, that is. We have had a few…desertions. Not among the numbers, of course, but the rank and file are not enthusiastic about this operation."
426 shook his head with a smile. "Why? Are they actually afraid of the FBI?"
"Um…yes, sir." 213 and Wo exchanged glances. "The FBI may have its inefficiencies, but we shouldn't underestimate their—"
"The Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco field office has given orders that no overt action be taken while we hold our hostages. The FBI has neutralized itself." 426 laughed, a sound that seemed to strike everyone in the room as peculiar. Wo took a step backwards. Even the battered Bui blinked in surprise. 213 swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his long throat.
"We captured their agents with ease, and we have sent a powerful warning. This was entirely to my taste." 426 smiled down at the bedsprings and wires, still chuckling, and rubbed the fingertips of one hand together. "I admit that my stroke of luck has elevated my mood, but what is there to fear? We hold our strongest position in years."
"We mean to abandon the United States," said 213, his facial tic increasing. "We've gathered all our cash and we're going to scuttle off to Taiwan! What kind of strength is that? Sir—"
"213," said 426 with exaggerated patience. "I will overlook your lack of faith. We must make our strength known before we depart, because we will return. Very soon. This is a temporary setback; that is all."
"But…" 213 ventured. "So many of the Northern California troops are in jail. Or in the hospital." He shifted from foot to foot. "Is it true that twelve were disabled in one street fight? And that we took a dozen more casualties during the incident with the bounty hunter?"
"That was due to the man known as Bean Bandit. A pair of unfortunate incidents, yes, but they will not be repeated. Bandit is dead. He died last night on an operating table, and Wo has seen the death certificate. I myself slashed Bandit's throat." 426 made a graceful gesture with his left hand, turning it out and palm up with the fingers outstretched and spread like multiple blades. "I have propitated his ghost, and I'm still burning incense, as you see. He will trouble us no more."
"Ah. And his associate, the bounty hunter?"
"Before two days have passed, she will reside with Bandit in the grave. The hostages I have—Brown's daughter, Ms. Vincent's partner May Hopkins and this FBI agent—guarantee that. I'll outline the plan now, to all the men."
"I see." 213's expression slightly brightened. "I'll call them in." He stepped to the door of the storage closet and beckoned; all the men filed in. When they had arranged themselves against the walls of the room, 426 stepped to the center of the group.
"I am prepared," said 426, "to offer a substantial bonus to every one of you. Your loyalty is an example to the rest of the Triad. Loyalty is the highest virtue of our way of life. However, I don't intend that virtue shall be its own sole reward." He leaned forward. "Each of you soldiers will receive one hundred thousand dollars in cash, tonight." The men smiled, their faces immediately relaxing, but some still looked skeptical. "The money is here in San Francisco, in a safe place, and I have sent a courier. Your rewards will arrive shortly, and will increase once my objectives are met. If any of you should not survive the operation, I will pay two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to his family."
"What about us?" said 51.
"Numbered Triads will be compensated according to their rank," said 426. "I have unlimited resources at my command, and I will be generous."
"Thank you, sir!" said 213, bowing. 426 returned the bow.
"I will now outline the plan. I intend to capture the bounty hunter, obtain all the information she possesses, and use her to destroy Larry Sam's credibility. Stopping his testimony is crucial if we are to rebuild the Triad. We have her partner, and we have Brown's child. This is sufficient to force Ms. Vincent to give herself up to us, and to carry out my orders in respect to Larry Sam—"
A knock sounded on a door outside, and Wo left the room.
"Pardon the interruption. That will be my courier." 426 turned to the door as Wo brought in Madame Lum, her square face pink with indignation. "Lum Huangling? What is the matter?"
"Ohh!" she gasped in Cantonese. "Oh, Red Pole! That Hopkins girl—she's a demon! The little bitch has escaped!"
"Escaped?" 426 looked at the Vietnamese and guided Madame Lum out of the room, Wo moving to the open door of the storage closet and keeping watch on 213 and the soldiers. She seized 426 by the lapels and half-shrieked into his face.
"She slipped out of the Pink Pearl after servicing a customer! I've only just discovered it—the girl I left in charge was knocked unconscious! Hopkins did it! And she's killed your man Macapang, and she's taken Brown's daughter with her!"
"By herself?" 426 removed the woman's hands from his coat with a faint expression of distaste.
"Manichetti was there! He must have helped her! I can't get much of a story out of Pai Li—she's not very coherent."
"Where are the tapes from your security cameras? Identify who came into the building!"
"I…I didn't think of it," stammered Madame Lum.
"Go! Bring the tapes to me!" 426 pointed at the pedestrian door, and Madame Lum ran out at a fast waddle. Wo followed her, but backed into the garage again when someone else came huffing to the door. It was a middle-aged Chinese, his face sweating.
"Sir!" he gasped. "Sir! The boat—"
"What?" said 426, moving towards the newcomer.
"The boat…has been stolen!" 426 was silent, and the courier stumbled on. "The guards were overpowered! I found them lying on the docks and floating in the harbor—only one was conscious. All he could tell me—"
"Who?" said 426, barely audible.
"Some person attacked them. One man only! The guard didn't know him—a tall man with black hair. He untied the boat and drove it away. Out into the bay! It's gone!"
"Who could have done this? Who could have KNOWN?" chattered Wo in a horrified whisper.
"Manichetti knew the location," said 426, his face stiff. "He knew how much treasure was on board."
"But he couldn't have defeated the guards singlehanded!" Wo protested. "He couldn't defeat a ten-year-old child!"
"No, he couldn't have. It must have been someone else—someone he told, or who forced the information from him. Still, who?" The assassin's eyes darted back and forth.
"A tall man with black hair…?" asked Wo. "Not an Asian?"
"The guard wasn't sure in the dark." The courier shook his head. "He might have been an Asian. He had sunglasses over his eyes—"
"What's going on here?" demanded 213, striding up to the group. "What's happened? Red Pole, if you don't give them the money soon, I can't answer for my—"
426 darted a look at him, his lips curling in a snarl. "Money? The money is gone."
"Sir—" said Wo.
"What is the use?" said 426. "I can't lie about this. I don't have the cash any longer, and I can't conjure it out of nothing. I have ten thousand dollars in my safe, and that is all. But this is the Eight Dragon Triad still, and the loyalty of its members will prevail over the weak and corrupt Americans. It must." He put his hands on 213's shoulders, looking up into his face. "My friend, tell your men that their rewards must be deferred. I'm sure we'll recover the boat…" His eyes narrowed as 213's expression went cold.
"I don't think they're going to stay around if they're not paid. I can't lie about that either, sir." Apparently sensing the change in the atmosphere, the Dragons all came out of the room in a ragged group. O'Toole creaked after them with a curious air. For a few moments, they whispered among themselves, then 51 came forward.
"Is the money here?"
"No," said 426. "The money is not here; it has been stolen."
"What?" spat the junior Triad.
"I need your help to reclaim it. I will double the rewards—two hundred thousand dollars for each solder, and half a million each for you and 42. Is that acceptable?" 426 seemed to make the offer with an effort in the face of 51's angry, skeptical manner. "We must move quickly to recover the boat." The Vietnamese circled them.
"Yeah? How about the hostages? Wasn't the old broad in charge of them? She didn't look too happy."
"We still have the FBI agent."
"But not the girls?"
"Not the females, no." 426 gritted his teeth; his face twitched, but he kept control of himself. "They have escaped."
"Oh, fuck me," said 42. The Vietnamese looked disgusted.
"Nevertheless, the Triad needs your help. Will you accept my offer?"
"I don't think so," said 51, and 42 nodded in agreement. "Double nothing is still nothing. The cupboard just got a little too bare."
"51!" shouted 213. "You will not offer such insolence to Red Pole 426!"
"Why the fuck are we supposed to take all the risk?" said 51. "Huh? You high numbers sit on your asses and peck away on keyboards while we all get shot and knifed and arrested for disappearing money? Nu-uh. Not for this Chinese boy. Stuff it, and stuff your damn Triad. I can get better work any damn day on a street corner in Hollywood." Beckoning to the others, he went to one of the cars and got in. 42 and the Vietnamese followed, accompanied by the courier. All of the soldiers piled in and slammed the car doors; the engines started.
426's mouth worked; he fixed his eyes on 213. The door raised and the cars drove out of the garage. 213 looked sick and slowly closed his eyes.
"I'll do it for yeh, sir," put in O'Toole. "I got me .45 right here."
"Thank you, but no," said 426. "Wo, fetch me my garrote." He reached into his coat and took out a pair of black leather gloves. O'Toole grinned as Wo brought the length of wire wound around its handles. 213 knelt and put his hands on his thighs.
When 213's black-faced body slumped to the floor, 426 had a faraway expression. "Dispose of him, Wo," he said absently, dropped the garrote, and headed to his desk.
Wo sighed and went to get his car. O'Toole sniggered and creaked off to a dark corner with his morphine.
426 reached into his coat and brought out three bronze coins, weighing them on his palm. Wo struggled with the body and loaded it into the trunk of his car. The garage door clanged open and shut again; 426 began to throw the I Ching once more, carefully noting the results.
About an hour later, Madame Lum returned to the garage with a single videotape in her hand. She shuffled through the pedestrian door, her square jaw sagging and her broad body looking deflated. A strand of hair had escaped from her tight bun and straggled across her sweaty face.
"Lum Huangling?" said 426 from his desk, fingers steepled against his forehead. "Have you discovered who helped the females to escape?" He raised his face when she didn't reply. "One tape only? You have cameras in every room and corridor. Why have you not brought the records from all of them?"
"S-someone destroyed most of our surveillance camera tapes," stammered Madame Lum. "Whoever it was got into the security room and smashed everything! But the camera in the lobby holds its tape inside it—that's the only one that survived." She held the videocassette out to 426. "I looked at the tape."
"And?" said 426 with gentle weariness.
"I know most of the clients who appear on it. But one…he almost seems familiar, but the picture isn't very clear, and I'm not sure who he is. I thought perhaps you might…" The garage door went up, and Wo drove down the ramp and parked.
"Where have you been, Wo?" said 426. "Surely it didn't take that long to dump the body."
"N-no, sir. I went to the hospital again. San Francisco General…where Bandit was taken. I had a thought…" He shook his head. "I don't know. It was a long shot."
"Hm. Will you play this tape for me?" 426 gestured to Madame Lum, and Wo took the tape and rummaged in the pile of cardboard boxes. He quickly found a small VCR, plugged it into the power strip and set it up with 426's computer, turning on the monitor. Inserting the tape, he fiddled with the brightness controls for a moment, then stood back.
The tape started, showing a high-angled shot of a gaudily-furnished lobby. Men in suits and women in various states of undress passed back and forth under the camera. "Where is this man you think you recognize?" said 426 to Madame Lum. "Wo, what is this long shot?"
"Well, it was about Bandit's death—" Wo began.
"He'll come on screen in a moment," said Madame Lum. "I watched it three times, trying to recall who he is." On the screen, a large, dark shadow emerged and moved across the lobby—a man in a long leather coat, his hair slicked against his skull. He paused with his back to the camera as he spoke to Pai Li, then followed her when she smiled and beckoned.
"I asked about Bandit at the hospital," said Wo. "I wanted to know if the death certificate was on file with the county yet, but there was a problem—"
"The death certificate?" said 426. "What did they say about Bandit's death certificate?"
A long jaw came into view as the man turned, and a pair of amber-tinted aviator-framed glasses. The man didn't face the camera, so only his jaw and one of his cheekbones was visible. As he passed, he gave an awkward tug to his collar, as if he didn't usually wear a necktie and wasn't comfortable. On the left side of his throat lines of big black stitches showed plainly. Madame Lum reached out to press the freeze-frame.
"The records have been sealed and can't be released to the public," continued Wo. "The clerk didn't know why, but said that it might be done in a case where there was a legal question over the cause of death or the person's identity."
426 shrugged. "I have no doubt that Bandit used false identities."
"Yes, but there was gossip in the emergency room—"
"That man there," said Madame Lum, jabbing a finger at the screen. "I know I've seen him before, but I'm not sure where. He was Hopkins' customer, so he must have had something to do with…" She trailed off, staring at 426.
"About a patient who revived after being pronounced dead," said Wo. "Two nurses were talking about a strange case. I thought about it for a while, and I had an idea. The description of the man who stole the boat sounded a little like—"
He broke off as well. Both of them watched 426 in consternation as his eyes stayed fixed on the computer screen.
His eyes went blank, the pupils dilating. Behind the tan color of his skin, the blood drained away. For the space of several breaths he didn't blink. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over them for a moment. "No. Impossible."
"Sir?"
426 swayed and Wo caught him under the arms. "Sir! Are you well?"
"Guang Si," whispered 426, his eyes scanning above him. He looked up at the concrete ceiling of the underground garage as if it were the roof of a mausoleum.
"What?" said Wo. Madame Lum put a hand over her mouth and went pale.
"No." 426 flung up a hand as if to wave the word away. "He was pronounced dead. He is dead. Impossible."
"But I heard a rumor about a revived patient," Wo persisted.
"Who did they say it was?"
"Um…an FBI agent, I think."
"Then it is not he," said 426 patiently. "Impossible."
Wo creased his brow and shook his head. "Bandit's death certificate is sealed. The thief was tall and black-haired. So is the man on this tape." He shrugged. "It was only a thought, sir."
426 was barely listening, shaking his head. "Impossible." He looked back at the image on the screen. It wavered and flickered, the black stitches on the throat moving like tiny snakes. "The dead do not come back to life. They do not seek revenge on their murderers."
"Uh…no, sir. Of course not." Wo drew back with an incredulous expression.
"Guang Si?" muttered Madame Lum. "The walking dead…" She swallowed hard. "Red Pole? What should I…?"
"Go, go." 426 absently waved in her direction. "There is nothing more for you to do here. You have lost a valuable thing I placed in your charge."
"I…I apologize, Red Pole," said Madame Lum, her teeth chattering.
"What did I expect? You are a woman." He rose and turned his back on her. "Weak, deluded. Easily fooled. Go." Madame Lum wrapped her coat tightly around herself and scuttled out, her face working with fear. "I am not concerned with women."
"No, sir," said Wo. "But…the bounty hunter…?"
"Ah, yes. The bounty hunter." 426 held up a finger as if lecturing himself. "A woman, yes, and an Asian-white mongrel to boot. But not to be underestimated. She recruited Sam."
"Have you decided what to do about Sam, sir? He has already given the FBI a great deal of information about the Triad."
"He has. My original plan is no longer in reach. I cannot use the hostages to force the bounty hunter to assassinate or discredit Sam. Therefore…" He trailed off, examining his hands. "Lawrence Sam. He has a Chinese personal name…he does not use it. He is an American in his mind. But a Chinese in blood and bone and flesh. A Chinese…and he refused to join the brotherhood. He rejected my regard for him."
"Your regard for him, sir?"
426's lips tightened for a moment. "I had him once, you know. One night of comfort among so many lonely hours." He stroked his palms together with a meditative air. "One night…or was it my imagination? I dreamed of him sometimes. I still do." He let out a small sigh and parted his hands. "I will rest now. I need sleep. Wo, prepare me a bed."
"Yes, sir." Wo guided 426 to a chair. He sat down and stared at a small wooden altar on the table in front of him.
Above it hung a painting on silk, a small scroll of a multi-armed, yellow-tusked demon surrounded by a halo of flame and curling smoke. The demon's eyes were wide and rolling, its face gnarled and its hair flying. Around its huge red form human beings writhed and screamed in the flames. Below them stylized ocean waves underscored the scene, lapping at the demon's feet as he danced in horrific jubilation.
426 studied the painting, his lips moving slightly. Wo took a step towards the pile of packing boxes and 426 seized his wrist with a quick motion, like a snake striking.
"Excuse me for a moment, sir. I need to make up your cot."
"You won't leave me?" 426 still stared at the demon on the scroll.
"No, sir." Wo turned to go, but 426 rose and slid an arm around his waist.
"Stay with me a little while. You are loyal?"
"I am loyal, sir," said Wo, his face betraying unease.
"Your work has been very impressive. I will present you for full membership at the next council. Your parents will be proud of you."
"My parents are dead, sir."
"Eh?" said 426 in surprise. "They live in Honolulu, don't they?"
Wo looked even more uneasy. "Uh…sir, I believe you are thinking of Henry Huang."
"Huang?"
"Huang is dead, sir. The bounty hunter shot him on the night of the fire."
426 blinked at Wo a few times, then sighed. "Yes, you are right. I arranged for his body to be flown to Hawaii. His parents will bury him appropriately."
"Yes, sir." Again Wo tried to move away, and again 426 held him.
"Give me comfort, Wo. You are a Triad—you are of the brotherhood. Give me comfort…" 426 clamped his hands around Wo's elbows. The young man's face twisted in horror and disgust, though he tried to suppress the expression.
"Please, sir, let me go!" His body gave a violent twitch.
"You are the only one I have left, my darling boy. Don't reject me." 426 leaned forward and tried to kiss Wo on the lips.
"Sir!" He twisted his face away. "I'm not—I can't—"
"You told me you wouldn't leave me." He kept hold of Wo with one hand. "You told me you were loyal." With the other hand, he reached for the zipper of his pants. Wo gave him a panicked shove and broke the hold; 426 stumbled and sat down hard on the concrete.
Wo turned grey, his hands extended in claws, and remained frozen where he was. 426 raised his head and looked at him unmoving. His expression was blank rather than malicious, but Wo let out a high soft wail and took a step backwards. Still 426 did nothing, though he kept his eyes locked to Wo's. The young man took another step backwards, and another.
"Excuse me, sir…I—I must leave you now."
Face expressionless, 426 watched Wo scramble to the nearest car and open the door. His hand moved once towards his shoulder holster, but dropped limp again to his side.
"What th' fock?" said a deep, growling voice behind him. "Ye can't run out on us like that, ye wee bastard!" KRAK! spoke a .45. Wo's head jerked forward and he fell into the car, limbs sprawling. Slowly he slid down until his body knelt on the concrete, his head still resting on the seat.
"I did not order his execution," said 426 absently.
"Well, th' little shit's got what he deserved anyhow." O'Toole creaked up in his wheelchair, his eyes glazed from morphine. He replaced his .45 in his sling and wiggled the fingers of his right hand. "Ahh, I still can place a bullet, can't I?"
"Indeed you can." 426 still watched Wo's inert body. His eyes also were glazed and slightly vacant. "Your sole remaining ability, I imagine."
O'Toole snarled at him for a moment, then smiled, his yellow teeth giving him a resemblance to the dancing demon. "An' what the fock else do I need, sir? There's only one thing I've left to do on this earth." Their eyes met. "Kill that nigger bitch an' send 'er to hell where she belongs."
"What else indeed?" 426 rose and turned towards the packing boxes, shedding his suit jacket. "I also have only one objective left, and it is the same." He opened a box and pulled out a set of body armor, then stripped down to undershirt and briefs. A pair of black nylon pants and a windbreaker not unlike O'Toole's combat gear came out of the box next and 426 put them on, changing his dress shoes for lace-up boots with soft rubber soles.
"Gettin' suited up at last, then?"
426 strapped on a bullet-resistant vest and a utility belt. "I am." He checked the load in his black-anodized Sig P229.
"I'd count it an honor to work with ye, sir. Whatever yer plans may be, I'll follow me orders to the letter. I don't care for me life as it is—" O'Toole glanced at his missing left leg—"an' so, use me as ye will. As long as I get me shot, I'll die content."
"Thank you, O'Toole." 426 buckled on a hip holster and snapped the flap over his automatic. "I welcome your help, and I promise you that you will die well. My life also is not worth a straw."
He strode to the door of the utility room and looked in on the captive Agent Bui, still tied to the chair and half unconscious. "Life is nothing. It evaporates so quickly. Death will take us all in the end, and our karma will determine our fate in the next cycle of reincarnation. All we can hope for is to achieve our objectives and pass on with honor."
426 glanced around the empty garage, then turned to O'Toole with a grave, philosophical smile, which clashed oddly with the faraway expression in his eyes. "Still, I am glad…that I am not alone."
Rally half woke and fumbled for the phone, realizing it was ringing. 4 A.M.? Something like that. She clicked it on. "Uhh? Rally Vincent here."
"It's Pete," said Smith's voice. "I am not going to apologize for waking you up. Larry Sam."
"What?"
"Larry Sam has been kidnapped."
Rally came fully awake, throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed. "Larry's been kidnapped?"
"Right out of the hospital. I've got another dead agent, and one's fighting to hang on. Got a description. It was 426 himself." Smith let out a long, sibilant breath.
"H-hospital? Dead? 426?" She pushed her hair out of her eyes and scanned the room, her mind racing.
"They kept Sam there for observation because of that bullet he took to the vest this afternoon. Four agents were guarding him. Two have broken bones, one's dead, and one's pretty damn close to it." Smith's voice quivered with fury, his intensity and volume steadily rising. "Back down, huh? Give 'em breathing room, huh? I follow orders. I do what I'm told because I work for Uncle Sam and I'm a loyal agent of the FBI and have been for twenty-seven years. And that son of a bitch has murdered MY PEOPLE."
"Pete…I'm so sorry." She scrambled into her clothes, wedging the phone between ear and shoulder. "I can't tell you how sorry—"
"I don't want sorry. I want 426's ass. On a spit."
"Consider it done. Medium rare with a side of fries." Rally stuck her feet into her shoes. "I wonder how May's grenade supply is…"
"Come to the Federal Building with her and I'll give you all the shit you need. Armor, ordnance, explosives. U.S. Special Forces issue—the good shit. This is on my personal authority. I don't care if it's against direct orders—what are they going to do, fire me?" Smith gave a caustic laugh.
"I'll go wake everyone up." Rally reached for her CZ75.
