13


“What can I get you?” Jimmy, the diner owner, asked. “Elise has her hands full.”
The man looked us over, wiping his hand on his counter towel.
“Coffee,” I said, pulling my cigar from my front pocket.
Frank put his hand on my arm to stop me. Jimmy gave me a dark look as he retreated to get our drinks.
We paid in advance and I left a good tip. I wasn't sure how Elise would respond to my return and wanted to get a feel for her mood.
Two cups of coffee later, the crowd was thinning out and Elise was in the back room taking her break.
“There’s a rhythm to the sound of a diner I’ve always liked,” Frank said.
His words took me back. I think his unique way of looking at things was what had drawn me to him. I’d been a dark, intense youth far away from home—as shady as that home was, I still missed it. We were the same age, but Frank always seemed more mature.
I listened to the sound of people talking and plates clattering from the back where someone was washing them and telling jokes.
The place was full of interesting characters. I paid attention to the people Elise knew well.
One of them was an older man, perhaps in his mid-fifties, with a hard face and salt-and-pepper hair cut short. Most of his grooming efforts had been put into his mustache. He sat with a coffee cup in one hand and his eyes on a public-use data pad, likely checked out from the local library.
I zoomed in and was happy to find it didn’t cause a blinding headache to use that function of my Reaper eye.
“That’s Tom,” Frank said. “Looks like he’s reading Advanced Theories of Aerodynamics as Applied to Union Vessels again.”
“Never heard of it. Sounds boring,” I said.
“He reads a lot. People tease him about his selection. He once read the instruction manual for Jimmy’s coffee machine from start to finish,” Frank said.
“Is that a long book?” I asked.
“Three hundred and ninety-two pages,” Frank said.
“Does he know how to make coffee?” I asked.
“No idea, but Jimmy does. That’s one of the things that makes this the best diner in the neighborhood,” Frank said, lifting a cup Jimmy had set down without explanation.
The place was so busy, the owner/operator came out from time to time to greet people and fill coffee cups. Elise worked hard but was clearly doing the job of more than one waitress.
Tom turned the page, read for a while, then set down his coffee cup. There was a moment where he was looking at the pad, but I didn’t think he was reading. At the end of the pause, he looked down the bar and saw me.
I wasn’t able to read his expression, but I was certain he’d notice my Reaper arm. It seemed unfair he would recognize it for what it was, because I was still wearing a glove and had my coat sleeve pulled down. It took effort to resist adjusting the sleeve.
Tom picked up his coffee cup and went back to reading. Elise grabbed the coffee pot and refilled his cup with a dangerously high pour. Black liquid arced down into the cup as he held it forward like they’d performed the maneuver hundreds of times.
“There you go, Tom,” she said.
“You’re an angel,” he replied.
The smile she answered with was warm and trusting.
She took several orders, recited them back to Jimmy, who was working frantically now, then delivered plates to one of the tables at the other end of the diner.
When two men came in a little while later, everything changed.
The way they moved radiated danger despite their forced nonchalance. “Those two are trying too hard to be inconspicuous,” I said.
Frank nodded, watching them over his coffee cup.
The leader of the pair motioned for Jimmy to approach the counter. “Are you James Callow?”
“Something like that,” Jimmy said, throwing his counter towel over his shoulder and crossing his beefy arms.
The man grabbed a fistful of his apron and the t-shirt underneath it, pulling him forward.
This time, I put my hand on Frank’s arm, warning him to stay put.
“I don’t like bullies,” Frank grumbled.
“Just wait,” I said.
“You got a girl with dark hair working for you?” the man asked. “And think before you answer. We ain’t the type of people you want to mess with.”
The second man took a guard position, watching the crowd and the door for cops or other good Samaritans.
Jimmy tried to break the smaller man’s grip but couldn’t do it.
“Hey, hey, hey!” the man said, giving Jimmy a shake.
I made a note. These guys were more than they seemed. Dressed to blend, I suspected their bland attire concealed weapons, body armor, and physiques trained by hours of hand-to-hand combat training. The easy way the lean man handled someone who was almost twice his size spoke volumes to his capabilities.
“What do you want? I’ve got customers,” Jimmy complained, his face turning red from the strain.
His attacker slowly twisted the t-shirt collar against his neck. “You won’t have any customers if you don’t give me what I want. Where is the girl?”
Frank leaned close to me. “You know these guys?”
“No. But I know why they’re here.” I wanted to run these jerks out of here, but needed information. Brawling might feel good, but it was a poor way to gather useful intelligence.
Jimmy’s attacker drew back one hand and slapped him across the face. “That’s to get your attention. No one has to get hurt, not even the girl. I just need to check on her for someone.”
Elise came out of the back room with a tray held high overhead. She saw what was going on immediately and put the tray on the other end of the counter. She marched past a half-dozen customers and planted her feet in front of the two men who had invaded the diner.
“You let go of him right now!” she said.
The man shoved Jimmy back, then advanced on Elise.
She retreated a step, but only one step and only to solidify her balance.
“We have to do something,” Frank whispered desperately.
“Not yet. Wait. Follow my lead,” I said.
“Listen, sir, we’re trying to work, sir. So get out of Jimmy’s place, sir,” Elise said, hammering the word “sir” each time she said it.
“You’ve got an attitude,” the man drawled, looking her over, probably off balance from her angry beauty. “I thought you’d be some street rat kid who didn’t know what was good for herself. Do you know what’s good for you?” He grabbed his groin.
She shoved him with both hands, driving forward with her legs and torso strength. “Get the hell out of here. Just go. You fucking asshat!”
“Oh, what happened to calling me sir?” the man asked, laughing now.
“Fuck off,” Elise said. “Sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to swear. It just slipped out.” She cast the apology over her shoulder.
“You have to come with us,” the second stranger said.
“All right! That’s enough. The police are on their way. I hit my panic alarm. They come quick when I do that. All the cops on this beat know me,” Jimmy said, shouting the first part.
I twisted the barstool a few inches toward the deescalating confrontation. If the two men refused at this point, they would be under time restrictions and would probably use actual violence to speed things up. The contract was for recovery of a Union asset dead or alive.
The first man backed away, holding up his hands. “It’s all good. We’ll be back. You better not run off, girl. We’ll be watching.”
“Go to hell!” Elise shouted at him. “Sorry, Jimmy,” she apologized again over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Elise,” Jimmy said, coming around the corner to stand between her and his two least favorite customers.
The men left. Jimmy threw up his hands in frustration, but then laughed, making the gesture a joke. “Sorry about that, everyone. I hope a free round of coffee and ten percent off everyone’s ticket makes up for the drama.”
Several people told him he didn’t have to do that and the scene slowly returned to normal. I kept my eyes on the counter, not wanting Elise to see me yet.
“Jimmy is a good guy. When he’s gone, there won’t be any more places like this,” Frank said. “Shouldn’t we talk to Elise now?”
“No. I want to have a word with those two dumbasses, see who sent them and what they know about the contract,” I said, moving toward the door. To my surprise, Frank followed me. He looked pale but determined.
* * *
Following the men was tricky. They didn’t seem to have military or law enforcement training, but there was a method to their madness. Every quarter block, they separated—one crossing to the other side of the street for a while. They always met up and headed back the way they came for a bit, then continued in toward their actual destination—whatever that might be.
“These guys are skittish,” Frank said.
“They’re checking for a tail. Not doing a bad job, but we’re right at the edge of where they might recognize us. That’s the hard part about following a target—too close and they see you, too far and you lose them.”
Asshole One and Asshole Two turned in to a narrow alley.
“Here we go,” I said. “Hang back. Try not to get involved.”
“Do you want me to set up at the entrance and keep watch?” Frank asked.
I nodded. “That would be outstanding.”
My targets must have made me, because they turned to confront me the moment I reached the point of no return.
“Who do you think you’re following, asshole?” the quieter of the two said.
In the diner, he’d been the lookout and had done a good job focusing his attention on the door instead of the confrontation with Elise. Things had changed. He looked like he was ready for a fight, probably tuned up from all the adrenaline of their little show.
“I’m talking to you,” he repeated.
“Not for long, you aren’t,” I said.
“What?”
I punched him on the tip of his jaw with my natural arm, dropping him like yesterday’s news.
The other man lunged, but then stopped when he saw the blade I’d snapped out of my left fist.
“We’re following the contract perimeters. Whoever gets her first, collects. You’re not supposed to interfere with other contractors,” the remaining man said.
“I know how to read a contract,” I said, backing him toward the wall with my presence. “And you can shove all of that up your ass. I’ve got questions for you and you’re going to answer them.”
The man slipped to one side, clearly trying to escape.
I retracted my blade and grabbed him.
He struggled.
I slammed him against the wall. None of the training that had allowed him to manhandle Jimmy helped him now. Even without my Reaper gear, I had him by years of experience and hard work.
“Shit, you’re strong,” the man gasped as I closed my fist around his throat. He clawed at my hand with both of his.
“And impatient,” I added. “Tell me what I want to know or I’ll pop your head off.”
He grunted, concentrating on getting free more than my words.
I wasn’t sure if I could actually decapitate him, but now didn’t seem a good time to try it. Relaxing my grip slightly, I gave him a little shake, hoping some words would come out.
“I don’t have to help you,” he managed, forcing the words through his clenched teeth and restricted larynx. “Who are you working for? Don’t you know the code?”
I didn’t bother to answer. “Tell me what your contract details are?”
“What? They’re the same for everyone,” he said.
That was a commonly held misconception. The contract always said that the details were the same for all operators, but they never were. I not only fulfilled my share of contracts while working for the Reaper Corps, but I’d written a few as diversions. This guy thought he was a pro, but he was just a rookie assassin in my book.
“Let me explain my code,” I said, leaning into him, lifting him up onto his tiptoes. “I’ll track down your family, your friends, the girl you had a crush on when you were ten, and bury them.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Unless you tell me every godsdamn thing I want to know,” I finished.
“What are you?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Where were you supposed to take the girl when you kidnapped her? Who is your contact?” I demanded.
“Fuck,” he gasped, the word coming out as a throaty whisper. His eyes lost focus for a second. He fought for survival. “The Union. It’s a Union contract. No one is supposed to know that, but I have a source. We’re taking her to Port 595.”
I dropped him, snatching the gun from his concealed holster as he fell. “Congratulations. You get to live another day. Forget about this contract if you want to continue living.”
He scrambled away from me but stopped to check on his friend.
I held out my hand. Once he realized what I wanted, he tossed me his friend’s pistol and a belt full of knives.
“Thanks. See, that was easy.” I found Frank nervously guarding the entrance to the alley and motioned for him to start walking. We headed quickly away from the scene, taking several corners and then stopping to make sure the men I had abused weren’t trying to follow me.
I didn’t think they were that stupid, but there was no way to predict the behavior of killers who had just had their egos crushed.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill them,” Frank said quietly. “I heard what you said. I don’t think I can take this. I’m not a Reaper. I hope you didn’t mean what you said about killing their families and all that. But it sounded believable. All I wanted to do was run home and check on my wife and kids.”
“Thanks for staying as long as you did. That would’ve been really uncomfortable if a couple of cops had interrupted our little talk,” I said.
Frank didn’t respond. I’d pushed him too far.