Fixer Read online

“I identify him as Marvin Kinslayer,” the closet told me. “He’s wanted for murder one on three systems and several larcenies in five others. The reward for him is steep. You can earn extra lottery points on Devros if you turn him in to one of their diplomatic posts.”

  “Thanks, closet,” I told it, “but I don’t need lottery points now. What I need is information on special weapon skills he might possess. Anything I need to worry about? I know what the other lobs can do; he’s a mystery.”

  Another pause. “Doesn’t have much in the way of empathy,” the closet continued. “None whatsoever, according to a psychiatric report from Lugar. Ideal person for a military assignment, but nothing else.”

  Ideal person to kill me and not have any remorse, I thought.

  This had to be a hit of some kind. Boss Korth had phoned to make sure his death squad was in place, then hung-up the phone. Why else would you bring someone like that redhead into the operation? These were the kind of men you kept in the cooler until needed. The kind of guys who would watch sports all day at the bar and not bother a soul. Until the day a waitress stumbles over a foot and gets her throat slit.

  “Keep a close watch on him, closet,” I instructed the AI. “He may not appear to be dangerous, but what you told me is scary. He could be the one who’s here to clean-up any messes that result from a goon squad botch. Just the sort of man who is here to make sure no one walks out alive if it goes down bad.”

  I returned to the screen and turned the audio feedback on with a flick. “I’m sorry, Junior,” I told Drez, “You’ll have to come back another time. I’ve got cookies baking in the oven, and they might get burnt. Love and kisses.” I leaned over to watch the screen, with Ralph on standby.

  Drez unleashed a stream of expletives I’d never heard. A few sounded familiar from the one time Zilpha had banged her head on the bedroom wall. She never told me what it meant other than it was something she’d picked up from her father before he died. For a missionary, her father had kept his ability to curse with the best of them in his native tongue. I don’t think any of those words translated to “fiddlesticks.”

  This time, Drez was furious. I watched as he walked back from the door and faced my hidden camera. I decided to turn the audio back on.

  “Gimme some room!” he yelled at the other thugs. As expected, he ran at the door.

  Also as expected, Drez bounced off the door and hit the floor.

  “There was an impact on the front door,” the closet informed me. It gave me a specific amount of force directed against it. “Impact was not enough to cause damage to the door, but it might if all those Terrans decide to hit at the same time. Damage would include....”

  “Yes, yes, closet,” I told it. “It will piss off the landlord if he has to send over a maintenance crew and clean up the blood in the hallway. Can’t have that. Oh, look, he’s going to try again.”

  This time, Drez walked further back and turned his body so that the door would take a maximum impact from his slam. It wouldn’t matter, because I’d installed that door on my own. It would take a direct hit from a wildebeest, but the wall out there would be damaged if they escalated things, and I didn’t want trouble from the neighbors.

  Time for my other plan.

  “When he strikes the door, closet,” I informed it, “unlatch the lock. Do this the moment before impact if possible.”

  “To calculate the timing should be easy,” the closet told me. “However, I need to let you know that by doing so, you will allow every one of the assailants out there to have free access to your apartment.”

  “It’s what I’m counting on. When the last one comes inside, lock the door behind him.”

  I stood there and watched Drez make that second run for the door. He hit it two seconds later.

  This time, my esper abilities kicked in, and I sensed his frustration. It also gave me a glimpse into what his mission was all about and why he’d brought along the goons.

  The fuckers wanted my head. Intact with minimal damage.

  There was some memory in my skull that was valuable enough for Korth to extract it. He didn’t want anyone else to know my thoughts, so he’d rented a brain leech to get the information out, special interrogation tools that could pull out useful facts from the most dedicated spy. Those bastards.

  The door unlatched a microsecond before Drez hit it low with his shoulder. His intent was to knock it off the hinges. Instead, the door flew open as he ran into my apartment. His momentum carried him down the hallway, past me, and across the main room floor. I’d stepped out of the way to let him go, and watched Drez continue onward until he slammed into the polycarbonate sliding doors that gave me access to the balcony. On the other side of the clear doors was a metal barricade, which reinforced everything. He managed to hit it with his head.

  Drez fell to the floor, out cold.

  Of course, the other goons ran into the room right behind him, all with their guns out. Since they wanted me dead, it was their best plan of action.

  In most cases, it would’ve worked.

  The closet waited until the last one was inside before the door closed and latched itself. Good for me the lead thug didn’t begin to fire until he was well inside the apartment. This gave the muffler time to silence any loud noises from the apartment.

  I fired three times at the lead thug and took him out in the torso. He went down in a bloody mess, which created interference for the next one, who flipped over him and hit the floor, gun in the air ready to fire. By the time the second one went down; the foam nets deployed and created a package over the remaining ones in the rear.

  Those foam nets, by the way, are not cheap, but I managed to get a good deal on them the previous month. They are useful for taking someone inside your house out of the equation, but you still have to deal with the captives later, since they’re wrapped up and alive.

  So, I was shocked when one of the goons managed to cut his way out of the foam webbing. It was impressive, to tell you the truth.

  Inside Nyx Station, most people used projectile weapons and not edged ones. When the station was first built, the walls were sufficiently hardened with multiple layers of rocks and minerals to make it impervious to anything under a cannon. The exterior was reinforced as well, just in case someone had ideas about blowing their way into the station. There were a few loading areas where any kind of flammable was strictly forbidden, but those tended to be near the surface. Or near the massive fissure that allowed starships and shuttles to reach the docks on the lower levels. It wasn’t unusual to see people with guns holstered in the common areas. For safety, they were banned in most places where children were present, but just about every family had access to a gun. Given the shaky public protection by the militia down in the lowers, it was a good idea.

  I stood there and watched him get back up to standing position. Reason dictated he’d try to beat a fast retreat. I was ready to give it to him. Why not? The joker would run back to Korth and tell the boss how he’d been popcorned by the likes of me.

  Instead, much to my great chagrin, he stood up and struggled to get his heater out from under his jacket. I squinted to get a better look at him. This was Prim, the young, unstable kid. Figure it to be him who carried the toad-sticker. He’d used it to slash through the webbing.

  My finger was on the trigger as he tried to bring his gun up. The foam web bits continued to stick to him. Prim didn’t realize they contained a central nervous system depressant to pacify its contents. I really wasn’t afraid. If he wanted to end it this way, I was ready to oblige.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white and blue. I held on to my gun as this could only mean one thing.

  Zilpha carried a telescopic naginata, or bladed staff, in her purse. I’d watched her work with it before. She had the deployment of that thing down to a science.

  She flew past me, came in low below his gun, and popped up with it, gently slashing his neck.

  The goon went down in a spray of blood that t
he cleaners would bill me for later in the week. He dropped his gun, and it hit the floor and spun across the room.

  “Piece of crap,” Ralph, still in my hand, commented. “A Lingo Twelve. They give those things away as boxtop prizes. You still have seven bullets left in the current clip, in case you wanted to know.”

  Zilpha, who was barefoot in the apartment, wiped the blade off on the coat of her victim before she turned to look at me.

  “You let me do that, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. “Saw you move out of the corner of my eye,” I explained. “Knew it couldn’t be anyone else. Realized that the closet had allowed you back into the apartment.”

  “So, why did you let me do it when you had the drop on him?” she asked.

  “Never saw you kill anyone with that thing before,” I told her. “You’re pretty good with it.”

  I heard a moan from the back room and turned, with Ralph aimed at the space where Drez hit the back doors. Zilpha bounced over to me and held her blade up. I didn’t want her in on this fight. No one should be forced to choose between a brother and a lover.

  Drez managed to get himself up off the floor and into a standing position. He rubbed his head a few times and glared at us both. Then, he raised his hands in the air to show they were empty. I kept Ralph aimed at him. I knew Drez too well to expect any cheap surrender.

  “I see you’ve had the place redecorated,” he spoke with a laugh, one finger pointing to the struggling figures in the foam nets.

  “Never hurts to keep your crib up,” I agreed. “I’m hoping to get my deposit back with interest.”

  “The boss ain’t gonna be happy,” Drez spoke to me as he wiped some red blood from his face. Funny how blood was the same color in most sentient beings.

  “I’m sure he’ll be livid,” I agreed. “But this is what old Hornhead gets for trying to take down his best man.”

  “Second best, Fixer,” Drez sneered at me.

  “You keep that thought if you want,” I told him, “but I’m a problem you’ll never be able to fix.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” Drez snapped, “My sister is here with you. The boss won’t like it that she killed one of his newbies to protect you. He’ll be mad enough you killed one of his older guys, but this will send him over the edge. Say, what are you going to do with the ones still alive?”

  “The foam web comes with a retrieval service,” I explained. “I’ll call the company, and they’ll pick them up. I don’t care much what happens to the creeps, since they just tried to kill me.”

  Zilpha was silent but still held her blade aimed at her brother.

  “The boss let her off the hook once,” Drez continued. “He’s not likely to do it again. You might find a way out of here, but what about her?”

  “I can take care of myself, Brother Dear,” Zilpha replied.

  “So you say,” he responded. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some business to take care of.” Drez walked past us and the bodies on the floor. The closet opened the front door to let him out, then closed it after he strode past.

  “Bastard,” Zilpha swore as the door shut.

  “Well, isn’t this just fine,” I mused. “Now, I’ll have to call the cleaners and have them pick up the mess. Want to go somewhere and talk for a bit?”

  “Don’t you have to wait around here until that retrieval company arrives?” she asked. Zilpha folded up her naginata. It only took a few seconds to get it back into her purse. She turned and looked at me with those eyes, now silver. I struggled to remember what that color represented. In her brother, it meant anxiety. I think.

  “No, the closet will let them in,” I explained. “Ralph will stay in touch with the closet, who will call if they need anything. I’ll let them file any reports the militia needs to account for what happened.”

  “All right,” she told me and ran a hand through her hair.

  Zilpha stopped and checked her face in the hall mirror before the door opened to let us leave. On my way out, I made sure to kick one of the struggling bundles on the floor. Pricks.

  “You want to try that coffee shop around the corner?” she asked me. “It opened up last month, and I hear it’s pretty decent.” I agreed, having become a regular there myself.

  I flexed a bit and reminded myself it was time to get back to the gym. Taking too much time off from training wasn’t a good idea. I needed to keep my edge if I wanted to survive and live up to my handle.

  A few minutes later, we were at the coffee shop. This was a new venture in a former clothing store in my neighborhood. Most of the locals ended up buying their work clothes from a place further up the levels when that shop closed, so everyone was glad to see something in its place.

  A few of the long-time residents griped about the hoity-toity coffee place moving into the neighborhood, but they soon learned to keep their mouths shut. The local jefe, or ward boss, wanted it there. He needed a place in the morning to hand out his patronage checks and see people. Most of the taverns didn’t open until later in the day. Also, people tended not to get drunk at a coffee shop--no matter how exotic the grinds.

  The owner, Marsh, wasn’t around when we walked in, so I went up to the counter and made an order to one of his kids for Zilpha and myself, then sat down at the nearest table.

  The Blasted Cup coffee house was run by a family of Lumanites from the Spear Cluster. They were humanoid enough to pass for a standard galactic being. They were pale in color and deadly thin. They didn’t talk much but knew how to make one damn fine cup of coffee. I couldn’t figure out how they survived, as every one of them I met was so thin you could see the blood pump.

  As we took our seats, I watched the owner’s daughter play on the floor. Marsh often brought his kids in to help him with the shop. I only saw his wife on a few rare occasions. His daughter, who resembled her father in every way you could imagine, hid when she saw me, then waved. A few minutes later, she was back to some coloring book he kept there for her.

  Marsh waved to me a few minutes later when he returned to the shop.

  “How’s business?” I asked him when he brought the cups over to me.

  “Picking up after a slow week,” he responded as he set our drinks down. “I’ll be open for the next hour, in case you wanted to hang out. How are things down at the dock?”

  “Busy," I told him. “Got back yesterday from a long haul. I’m hoping to be around for another week at the least.” He nodded and turned to greet another customer who walked into the shop.

  I told everyone in the neighborhood I was a freight hauler for a big salvaging company, and they seemed to believe it. It wasn’t too far from the truth, other than that I sometimes had to boost the freight before I brought it back.

  “So, what are you going to do about Korth?” she asked me before her first sip of coffee.

  “The only thing I can do,” I replied. “I’ll exchange whatever information he wants for a guarantee to leave you alone. I can’t have that on my mind. There is something Korth wants from me. Something so bad, he was willing to send the goon squad over to get it.”

  She reached over and touched my hand. “I can handle myself.”

  “I noticed how you took out that punk in the hall. Where did you learn to handle a stick like that? The guy went down before he could even bring up his gun.”

  “I learned from a small school near the pylons. An old Terran guy has an institute where he’s trained people for generations. The transit guards go there to learn how to fight in deep space.”

  Not a bad idea for them to do that. I learned how in the Janissaries. You needed to know how to spar with a blade if you wanted to travel to the danger zones in space. There were a few outfits that issued sonic weapons to their people, but those types of weapons didn’t have the direction of a knife or sword.

  We didn’t say much more and waited for the closet to give me a call. About an hour later, the gun rang, and I picked it up.

  “Is it the closet?” I asked.
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  “Yes," Ralph responded. “Closet says the cleaners came and went. Says your place is good as new and that your landlord will never know anything happened inside it.”

  “Oh, he’ll find out. He always does. Any way to raise my rent or find a way to get extra cash out of me. Come on, Zilpha. Let’s go home.”

  I took our cups up to the counter and handed them to Marsh.

  “I’ll be back later,” I told him as I strode out the door with one arm around Zilpha.

  Chapter Six

  Our only option was to go directly to the Cinzar family’s operation down by the docks. The furniture store that Korth used as a front for his outfit. I didn’t see any other way to do it.

  We returned to the apartment to find everything cleaned up and a bill neatly placed in the center of my kitchen table. They’d done their work and expected payment in in seven days, with a discount if done within two. I couldn’t blame the company for wanting their money right away. They had every right to get it. Besides, they did great work.

  “You’d hardly know anything happened here,” Zilpha commented as we looked the apartment over.

  “That’s why they make the big money,” I told her. “Go change out of that dress. We need to go to Korth and get this resolved. You should have something a bit more useful on if things go bad.”

  Zilpha knew what I met. In a few minutes, she emerged in a nondescript jacket, rough pants, and boots. She still had her naginata in her purse, but I didn’t think she’d have the chance to use it.

  The headquarters of the Cinzar family was in a building off the main drag near the docks. There were plenty of warehouses and shipping companies located down there. They were in proximity to the landing platforms where the starships touched down after their long trips through the void. It wasn’t unusual to see the entire cavern open and admit another ship every few hours. Then, it would touch down on the platforms. When a ship landed, a ground grew would imminently be dispatched to secure it until the customs people could pay the crew a visit. There was a fee for the goodies they shipped through Nyx Station.