The Troubleshooter: Red-Eyed Killer Page 6

  It took a lot of self-restraint not to pull the trigger on the louse. “Her name is Natasha, Pike. You say her name, or I’ll forget my word and decorate the carpet with your brains right now.”

  Pike swallowed. “Na… Natasha. You’re right, of course.” Sweat beaded on his forehead as his eyes slid over to where the Mean Ol’ Broad’s muzzle rested against the side of his head. “You said… there was something else you required?”

  “That’s right. I figure since I’m letting you off easy and all, I outta benefit from my act of mercy. You got a mighty fine Duesy sitting down in the parking garage. Seeing as how I need a set of wheels to get over to the Black Dahlia, I’m pretty sure you’d agree that the Duesy will do just fine.”

  “The Duesy…? Oh, you mean the Ghost.” Pike’s face was clearly relieved. “Absolutely. Just let me access the control key from my holoband…”

  “Slowly, Pike. Nothing funny, because the Broad here ain’t in the mood.”

  He nodded. I watched closely as he opened the holographic display on his holoband and slid over to his vehicle access screen. I could see why losing the Ghost didn’t exactly disturb him much. He owned around a dozen wheelers, not to mention a few skimmers and a couple of real sweet floaters. I synched my holoband to his screen, and he slid the controls to the Ghost from his band to mine.

  “All right, shut it off.”

  He eyed me warily as he shut his holoband down. “You will comply with the terms, won’t you? I did everything that you asked.”

  I stood up. “Yeah, you’ve been a model citizen, Pike. So I’ll carry out my end of the bargain. I won’t kill you.” I holstered the Mean Ol’ Broad. Pike exhaled a sigh of relief. At least until he saw the second piece that I pulled out.

  “Wait… I thought you said…”

  “Relax, Pike. This is a stun gun.”

  “Is that really necessary? I won’t…”

  “Call the Red-Eyed Killer as soon as I walk out the door? No, you’re not that slippery a rat, are you Pike? I’m sure you’re as trustworthy as newly christened priest. But I’m not a man to take chances. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt you half as bad as Moe Flacco will when he catches up to you.”

  His face was the picture of confusion. “Moe Flacco? What does he have to do with this?”

  “You’ll find out when you wake up.” As he looked up with an open-mouthed stare, I hit him with the electric stun charge.

  A few minutes later I was back in the parking garage. I sent the hoversled packing with an automatic homing tag. The Duesy’s doors opened once my holoband got in range. I slid into the cushioned leather seats, which automatically adjusted for my size and weight.

  “Good evening, Mr. Trubble. It is a pleasure to have you as my new owner.” The wheeler’s voice purred like a high-class dame with a kinky side. I couldn’t stop the smile that slid across my face.

  “The pleasure’s all mine. So, what did Pike call you? You’re a tad too fine to not have a name.”

  “Mr. Pickens never designated a name to me, Mr. Trubble, other than the Ghost.”

  “Well that changes now. Maxine sounds about right for a sexy beast like yourself. Any objections?”

  “None at all, Mr. Trubble.”

  “I take it that Pike has your transit computers off the grid?”

  “That is correct. Transit control is not able to commandeer my operations, and I do not show up on any of their scanners except visual.”

  “Music to my ears, sweetheart. Well, I’d love to spend a bit more time getting to know you, but I have an appointment across town at a high pillow joint called the Black Dahlia. The quicker you can get me there, the better.”

  “Not a problem, Mr. Trubble. Scanning for the fastest routes now.”

  A few seconds later we were on the road. It felt a lot better than flying across the air. Normally I’d have been ecstatic with the good fortune of acquiring such a mean set of wheels. But I wasn’t jazzed at all. Every time my mind drifted, I saw the dead faces of the Luzzattis and Natasha’s liquid eyes. Every mile that Maxine devoured brought me closer to the last stage of my act of vengeance. If the Red-Eyed Killer’s rep was as advertised, I was about to face a killer about as deadly as Hunter Valentino was. The only thing I had going for me was the element of surprise.

  That and a favor that I needed to cash in on.

  Chapter 9: Red-Eyed Killer

  The Black Dahlia was a womb of sound and liquid movement. The entire joint was draped in shades of red, and magma flowed along the walls in glass tubing that threaded the walls like veins. The featured band was a synoid group called Monae that favored a more electronic fusion sound that throbbed like a heartbeat. A chocolate-toned, tuxedo-clad dame with a pompadour hairdo jammed on stage, belting out songs with a voice that melted like butter into the microphone.

  The crowd of regulars rocked a more ultramodern style that was supposedly popular at other Havens. There was no shortage of multi-hued hairstyles, metallic fabrics, and sleek, glittering accessories. In short, it was a fashion show where every flake tried their best to shine in a crowd full of glitter.

  The Red-Eyed Killer gracefully sat across from me at the table. He wasn’t what I expected.

  Because he wasn’t a he.

  The dame could have fit in at any ritzy setting. Her slinky dress and fur stole was a bit conservative for the Black Dahlia, probably so that she could pass without notice. A large key-shaped medallion hung from her neck along with ropes of oyster fruit, and a velvet hat was elegantly perched atop her brunette bob. Her eyes were hazel, almost catlike as she regarded me with cold appraisal.

  “Hands where I can see them, if you please.”

  I placed both of my mitts on the table and gave her my most charming smile.

  She wasn’t impressed. “You’re not Pike.”

  I removed my Bogart and placed it on the table real casual-like before answering. “Pike got himself down on his uppers and couldn’t make it. He sends his apologies.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t do business with underlings. When you see Pike, let him know that I’m greatly displeased with his lack of professionalism. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  I crossed my fingers together under my chin. “How about doing business with the person who just fitted Pike and Big Louie for a pair of New Haven trench coats? You got time for that?”

  She paused in the act of rising, then sat and gazed at me with regal haughtiness. “You must be Mick Trubble. The word on the wire is that you’re wanted for assaulting the brass and impeding an investigation. I take it that you’ve hidden the girl.”

  “You figured right. Funny, I never thought the Red-Eyed Killer would be a dame.”

  “That’s because you’re a man. Your limited imagination can’t conceive that the opposite gender is potentially as vicious as you are.” She pulled out a gasper case and opened it. “Smoke?”

  I patted my breast pocket. “I’ve got my own. Plus I’m not too trusting with someone known to use paralyzing narcotics.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. A man should be entitled to his last smoke before dying.” She lit hers and puffed contentedly. “I’m going to give you a choice, Mr. Trubble. You give up the girl and I’ll kill you quickly. If you don’t then I suppose I’ll have to be as…imaginative as I was with the Luzzattis.”

  I clenched my fists to keep my hands from doing something rash. “I’ll see your offer and raise. Here’s my deal: you drop the contract on Natasha and I let you walk outta here with your vital organs intact. Your employers are dead, so the contract can be nixed with no problem. There’s no reason to go after the girl.”

  A slender, blonde waitress stopped by our table. “Can I get the couple anything to drink?”

  I couldn’t help but to grin at the dame’s assumption. “I’ll have a Godfather. Top it off with a shot of absinthe, will you?”

  “As you wish. And the lady…?”

  The Red-Eyed Killer looked at me with a tiny smile. “Absinthe?”


  “To honor a friend that gave me a hand tonight. I don’t blame you if you pass, sweetheart. It’s a man’s drink.”

  She turned to the waitress and smiled. “I’ll have the same.”

  The waitress left. The Red-Eyed Killer’s eyes went cold again.

  “You may have hidden the girl, but she’s still going to die, Mr. Trubble. My contract is final, no matter the fate of my employer. Once I agree to a deal then the job isn’t finished… until it’s finished. It’s a matter of professionalism.”

  “Professionalism, is it? Or just a sadistic delight in killing folks?”

  She blew a stream of smoke my direction. “Does it matter?”

  My fingers drummed to the beat of the synoid band playing in the background. “Maybe I wanna understand why a dame like you would make a living torturing innocent people to death.”

  Her smile would have looked lovely if she didn’t have Death behind her eyes. “There are no innocent people, Mr. Trubble. Don’t patronize me by feigning ignorance. You’re killer. I can see it on your face. You’ve killed before and you’ll kill again. You’ll keep on killing until you finally meet someone who kills you first. The only difference between you and me is that I can sleep like a baby after I wash the blood from my hands.”

  My throat felt constricted as though her fingers clutched it tightly and squeezed. “I’ve put a few bad dogs down, yeah. If a mug’s got a case coming then I won’t hesitate to give it to him. But I don’t enjoy it. I get no pleasure from killing folks.”

  I fought the inclination to back away as she leaned toward me. “Then you have no idea what you’re missing. Killing without pleasure is like sex without pleasure. It’s worthless. If you’re talented at an art or skill then you should enjoy it, or find something else to do. Personally I don’t want to do anything else.”

  Her tongue slid across her crimson lips. “I love what I do. Every moment that I’m not killing someone is just wasted time. I love the feel of a razor’s edge slicing open a throat. The life that pours across my fingers. It’s the most potent high imaginable. I live for it.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks. I really needed one by then. The blend of scotch, amaretto and absinthe was just what the doctor ordered for my bad case of nerves. Normally it takes quite a bit to rattle me, but the way that the dame went on about killing was about the most ruthless admission that I’d ever come across. She was one of those rare, perfect killing machines. No qualms, no conscience.

  No humanity.

  She scanned her drink with her holoband before picking it up and sipping.

  I tipped my glass. “Checking for toxins? A bit paranoid, are we?”

  She smiled. “Poison is easy to slip in a drink, Mr. Trubble. You obviously came here for a reason. I wouldn’t take offense if you tried to take the easy way out.”

  “Poison ain’t exactly my style, darlin’. No offense, but I find it a bit cowardly.”

  She ignored my barb and sampled the booze. “Quite the drink, Mr. Trubble. A bit on the strong side. Typical of what a man would prefer. Your gender always tends to overcompensate.” She was as composed as if talking to an old friend. “What do you call it?”

  I finished the drink and set the glass on the table. “I call it a Troubleshooter.”

  Amusement flickered across her face. “I suppose you would. Speaking of shooting trouble, I suppose that we’ve arrived at the point where I have to do just that. Nothing personal, but you’ve seen my face. You understand that I can’t allow you to walk out of here with that knowledge.”

  “You’re welcome to try. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t think that you would. But I know that you’re unarmed, Mr. Trubble. You had to pass through the scanners at the door before you entered. This nightclub has a very strict policy against firearms. That’s the only reason I agreed to meet Pike here. Now you, Mr. Trubble… I know your kind. You rely on your gun. It’s like your right hand. You probably have a name for your firearm, don’t you? It’s that special to you. But it’s your crutch as well. You really can’t function well without it.”

  She smiled again. A cold smile that never touched her eyes. “I have a dozen ways that I can kill you right now, Mr. Trubble. What do you have?”

  “A favor.”

  Her brow creased. “A… favor?”

  “That’s right. A wise man once told me that if you wanna stay ahead of the game on the streets, you gotta know how to handle your favors. You gotta know when to deal ‘em and when to call ‘em in. Case in point: Mr. Luzzatti. He was the type of man that got along well with a lot of people. You know, well-liked by folks all over New Haven. A modest but respected individual.”

  “Your point, Mr. Trubble?”

  “You might not know this, but when someone like Luzzatti is mowed down, it affects other folks in the community. Some of those people who thought well of him are pretty upset about how things went down. One of those persons would be Mr. Shapiro. You probably wouldn’t know him, but he’s the owner of several profitable nightclubs in the Uppers. Including this one.”

  The Red-Eyed Killer blinked.

  I smiled. “So when I called him ahead of arriving here and explained the situation, he jumped at the chance to grant me a favor and let me park the Mean Ol’ Broad under the table here. That would be what I call my iron, by the way. What can I say? You’re right about me giving her a name.”

  She placed a fist under her chin. “Do you really think that you can reach your firearm before I can kill you? If so than you’re much more foolish than I took you for.”

  “Oh, I believe that you got the skills. Take that necklace for instance. The key medallion really clashes with your set of pearls. Someone else might just chart that up as a style mishap, but I know a lot about weaponry. It’s a talent I have. I remember everything except my past. So what do I do in my spare time? Read encyclopedias. Including the ones on firearms.

  “Like that key gun of yours. Before the Cataclysm they had a powder version that could be used to blast open locks in case the key failed. Your medallion seems to be an updated version, modified with mech parts. Easy to include with your jewelry at the door to bypass the scanners, but powerful enough to punch a hole through a body.”

  She leaned back and stroked the key gun. “You’re a very astute man, Mr. Trubble. It’s almost a shame to have to kill you.”

  “Yeah, it would be. So I have to repeat my warning. You make a move, and it’s gonna get pretty ugly for you. I got a soft spot for dames, but you’re a horse of a different color. I can’t say that I’d feel bad with you being rubbed out of the picture. So don’t push your luck, because the odds are stacked against you, especially tonight.”

  The Red-Eyed Killer took a wary glance around the room. “You have a hidden triggerman that I don’t know about, Mr. Trubble? Some accomplice with a grudge?”

  I followed her gaze. The crowds went about their business at their booths and on the floor as the synoids on stage played on, the synchronized music swelling the joint with a throbbing sound. The songbird sang and danced across the stage like it was her last night on earth.

  I smiled at the Red-Eyed Killer. “Not my style, sweetheart. My business is with you.” My hands remained where they were on the table. “This is where it ends. Right here, right now. You can do the right thing and call it off. I’ll take you at your word. But if you wanna take this all the way, then make your move and pay the price.”

  She stared at me as if trying to read the intent on my face. Tiny beads of perspiration glimmered on the bridge of her nose. “Did you come here to die, Mr. Trubble? Is this your way out of the mess that you got yourself into? Because you seem pretty confident for a person who has to reach under a table in less time than it takes for me to kill you.”

  I stared into her catlike eyes. “I didn’t come here to die, sweetheart. I came here to rub out the Red-Eyed Killer. And that’s what will happen if you don’t wise up and quit
while you’re ahead.”

  Her fingers tapped the key gun around her neck as she studied me. I leaned back and smiled. The band played on, and the folks around us went about their business as though we were invisible. But we weren’t. In fact, we were the only two people who existed in that moment of time. Everything else was just insubstantial blurs of movement that whirled about as the Red-Eyed Killer and I locked gazes and played the ultimate game of truth or dare.

  She made her move.

  All I heard was thunder.

  Chapter 10: Slick Talk

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bury you deep in the coldest meat locker and throw away the key.”

  Captain Grave’s mustache was even more bristly when he was angry. Right then he was furious. I sat in the lobby of the Black Dahlia with my wrists in electronic cuffs. Sure, I could have ran for it, but I was pretty worn out by that point. The job was finished and the last thing I felt like was ducking the law.

  The boys in black packed in the nightclub, questioning witnesses and securing the scene. A lot of them shot dirty looks at me as they passed. I guess my little gambit at the Luzzattis didn’t sit too well with them. One thing you can say about the brass is that they’re loyal to the shield for the most part. You hurt one, you gotta face them all.

  I gave Graves my most infuriating grin. “Don’t you have enough of a mess on your hands? With a gang war about to spill over on the streets, you’d think that an important man like you couldn’t spare the time for a little ol’ Troubleshooter like me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How did you…?” He took a deep breath. “If I find out that you had anything to do with what went down at Pike’s place tonight…”

  “No need for threats, Captain. I’ve been too busy trying to protect an innocent girl from certain death to go around instigating gang wars. But every action has a reaction, right? It’s simple physics. Now I don’t have much of an egg for science, but I do know that when you’re in the game of double-crossing folks, then eventually you might get strung up by your own set of wires. Speaking of which, what happened to ol’ Pike anyhow?”