Chapter 2
The Las Vegas Strip crawled with tourists and valets. Flashing neon and glittering lights sparkled on the cab windshield as it cruised by. The night sky glowed fluorescent pink and tangerine orange. Jackson watched the crowds in gruff silence from the backseat, a black laptop case resting on his knees. He despised tourists.
"Here we are," the cab driver chimed as he pulled to the curb, "It'll be… er… $47.50"
Jackson rolled his eyes and flicked the bills over the seat. Curtly, he swung the door open and growled, "Keep the change." He snatched his laptop and slammed the door.
Slot machines chimed from behind the velvet-roped casino. The elegant lobby swelled with hotel guests and day-trippers. Women in expensive dresses dribbled from the arms of lucky gamblers. Their dazzling pearl teeth never lost behind smooth crimson lips. Jackson stalked to the counter, ignoring them.
"Welcome to the Desert Sa…" declared the chipper young blonde behind the counter.
"One, Nonsmoking, I don't care where, but I need an internet connection." Jackson interrupted. His joyless tone sobered the girl instantly.
"Right…" she sighed solemnly, and proceeded to fulfill his wishes. Jackson spun around anxiously, and scoured the crowded lobby. That stupid son of a bitch must be here somewhere, he thought.No sign. After he checked in, he glanced in the casino. Still nothing.
"Well Jackson," he heard a raspy male voice snicker behind him, "So, how long's it been?"
Jackson whirled around, and came face to face with a man, bald and rotund, smiling at him in a cheap grey suit.
He smiled. "Mason, you fat bastard. I thought you weren't gonna show." With that, he cheerily extended his hand, and his companion shook it heartily.
"Well, a job's a job," the man proclaimed.
Jackson paused. Job? His blood simmered.
"So what do you have for me," Jackson quizzed, melting his smile.
Mason ducked his head and brought a crooked finger behind his ear to scratch. "Shouldn't we get a few drinks… you know, someplace quiet?"
"Sure," Jackson huffed. His irritated manner was restored.
In a secluded corner of the darkened hotel bar, Jackson and Mason ducked into the shadows and continued their conversation.
"So," Mason started as he swished whiskey absentmindedly in its glass, "This Keefe thing was a big fuck up, everybody knows that… And, it looks like you're walkin' okay."
"The miracles of modern medicine," Jackson quipped.
"So, security's tighter now, a lot of space age crap. Oh, and we found your girl too." Mason took a swig and gently placed the glass on the bar.
Jackson's azure eyes shimmered with a glint of forgotten rage. He blinked. "Leese?"
"Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You've got bigger shit to take care of right now. Pete says he'll email you part of your new assignment, and they'll call you with the little details later. You know the drill."
"Lisa…" Jackson echoed coldly. A faint smile twisted his lips.
"Jackson," Mason sighed, "we have an appointment. The powers that be want to have a word with you. We should go."
Jackson glared at his associate. So this is what it's come to. The two men stood and set their tips on the bar.
Mason's black Lexus made its way to the edge of Las Vegas, to the shadowy desert mountains. The city sparkled in the rear view mirror. With a sudden jerk, Mason pulled the car to the side of the road and silenced the engine.
"They'll be here any minute. Might as well get out and stretch your legs."
Jackson sparked furiously at Mason as the large man climbed out of the car. Does he really think I'm that stupid, he thought. Jackson sighed impatiently and stepped out into the darkness. He shook his head.
"So, what do they want with me?" Jackson urged Mason.
"Well Jackson… they want you to do something for 'em," Mason replied leaning on the driver's side as he reached silently into his jacket pocket.
Jackson sniffed and kicked the dusty ground crossly. "What's that?"
"They want you to die…" Mason whirled around. His arm rose. The gun in his hand gleamed. A flash lit the desert night. A piercing crash echoed to the distant mountains.
Jackson strolled casually around the silent car to Mason. The plump man struggled helplessly on the ground, cradling his bleeding arm. His gun lay useless in the dust.
"What the fuck, Jackson… when did you start carrying that thing?" Mason pulled his hand from his mangled flesh and spat at Jackson. "You're a lousy fucking shot, you know that?"
Jackson tilted his head spitefully, kicking the gun further out of Mason's reach. "And you are a lousy fucking liar." Jackson raised his gun to his face. Mason's lip quivered as the barrel tapped his forehead. "I almost bought the assignment routine, but you couldn't keep a secret if you tried. Talk fat-ass. Where is she? I know you weren't lying about that."
Mason pleaded, "L-l-eslie?"
"Lisa…" Jackson corrected. His thoughts seemed to trail.
"Whatever, the little bitch that fucked up your life …"
"You know Mason, even I can't miss from this distance," he snarled as he pressed the gun firm against his forehead. His icy eyes sparkled with madness. "Talk!"
"Hillsdale… some fucking Podunk town in West Virginia. Look, what the fuck do you care? They just want to clean up your fucking mess."
Jackson stood, releasing his associate. He paced nervously in the city's glow. Clean up?
"Fuck Jackson, that bitch fucked you up…" Mason cried. Jackson stopped and glared at him. His nostrils flared.
"You think so?" he hissed through clenched fangs. The gun trailed back to Mason. Absently, his free hand pawed the button scar on his neck.
The two men stared at each other intensely. Mason broke the uncomfortable silence.
"How'd you know?" he asked.
"What?" gasped Jackson. His face contorted with annoyance.
Mason motioned. "About the girl, how'd you know that wasn't a lie?"
Jackson rolled his eyes, "First of all, I know you too well. Second, even if I thought it was before, you just told me it wasn't. Dammit Mason. I do this for a living!"
"Not anymore asshole. And hey, if you don't believe me, her fucking file is sitting in the back seat… Look for yourself!" Jackson stood, staring at the helpless man.
"I don't buy it…" Mason mumbled.
Jackson's brow wrinkled as his head leaned. His eyes glinted with angry confusion. "Buy what, Mason?" Jackson demanded.
Mason turned to smile devilishly at his old friend. "And you say I'm a lousy fucking liar…" Jackson twisted further, his eyes more annoyed.
"I don't buy the whole 'vengeance is mine' bit for you… you're too level headed for that shit. I think there's more to it."
Jackson winced. His arm dropped. His eyes, once fixed on his fallen comrade, jumped doubtfully to the side. He melted and softened, unexpectedly off guard. Mason chuckled.
"Hey, I don't blame ya pretty boy," the large man sneered, "she's a nice piece of ass. I was thinkin' after I was done burying your carcass, I could pay her a little visit." Mason winked and clicked his cheek lewdly. He smiled with satisfaction as Jackson's rage blazed again. His ice eyes burned through Mason with cold fire.
"You never did know when to shut up," Jackson spat.
"I was thinking she could pray for daddy, and you could watch. Then I'd feed your sorry ass to her fucking dog. How'd you like that?"
"Fuck you Mason," Jackson cursed, and raised his gun. He fired. The flash lit his tortured face, and the crash crushed his ears. Jackson stared ferociously at Mason, whose skull now splattered the ground. He sobered.
Why send Mason, of all people? He's an ass.
"Lisa…" he sighed, and a venomous smile twisted his lips once more.