Twenty:

I dove, and the roar of deafening gunfire in the parking lot split my ears, as the bullets passed over me. My body kept tumbling, as I keenly sought out the first solid object, which happened to be a metal trashcan. I’d made many a snide comment about the old relics, but now I was never happier than we had such aged and heavy monstrosities around the city!

The shots were semi-auto, and the sound was that of a forty-caliber handgun. My ability to distinguish a gun based on sound alone was a hard-won experience over a lifetime of violence and urban warfare. I knew that most models had fifteen or sixteen shots, so I counted each round fired, one, two, three, four, five, six shots fired so-far.

After a second of crouching and making myself small, I peeked out the side of the can and pulled my forty-five and I scanned across the lot in the direction of the cacophony of weapon-fire.

The lot was nearly empty since it was rather early by typical work standards. Customs typically held a very routine daytime schedule, even if ships could arrive any time of day or night.

The emptiness of the lot worked in my favor, as I spotted a lone shooter. He was average-height, about five-seven or eight. He appeared to be white but was mostly covered and wearing a ski mask.

“Seriously, doesn’t anyone ever buy these damn things for their proper use?!”

I asked myself as I ducked back behind the bin before the next two shots could find purchase in my forehead. He had the advantage for now and I could not turn the corner again without being Swiss cheese.

Light footfalls pattered on the pavement, as the masked skell prowled ever closer to me. I could hear him coming to my right, and I slipped my burner cell from my pocket, and I fumbled with my second phone, and I hit send, as I dialed my burner. I then swung around the left-hand side of the trash can, and the phone began to ring behind me and gunfire erupted in the morning air around me once more, and this time I saw the skell spin back around the trash can startled to discover the empty side, and I fired once into his right eye as he spotted me in time to realize his date with fate.

There was numbness where fear had just been inside my chest. I knew this was yet another justified shooting, and it still seemed to etch out a small corner of my soul, despite my plethora of explanations. Taking a life is never easy, not for me, not while I still have a human soul. I moved over to the dead man as he fell limply to the ground, and I peeled back the ski mask, and I saw the red-brown closely cut hair, and the Celtic cross tattoo on his neck which told me he was one of Marc’s boys.

This bothered me since I knew there was no way the skell had tracked me traditionally. I am far too careful, and I know how to spot a tail a mile off. Also, I was completely disconnected from every possible social source. This surprise visit at the docks, right after I left the police station gave me little doubt that there was a dirty cop in the mix somewhere. However, part of me could not rule out Grimshaw simply tipping them himself. Hell, if I were him, that might be my first play as well. Making the mob do the dirty work for him, was a sure-fire method of keeping your own hands clean.

I absently dialed Henry on the scrambled phone.

“Hello, gorgeous!”

He greeted, and I could only barely hear him above the ringing in my ears.

“Henry, I need you to check and see if he made any calls or otherwise said or did anything suspicious since we spoke.”

I yelled into the line, and Henry quickly asked, “Gina, why the fuck are you yelling at me?”

His mind seemed to spin to recognition quickly.

“Did you just fire your weapon again?! Are you hurt?”

Henry asked hurriedly and I made a vague dismissive sound and said, “Nah, just bell-rung and a few aspirins for me, and I’m right as rain.”

He seemed to deflate rapidly and audibly even to my damaged hearing.

“Thank God! I remember the last time you got shot, that was scary!”

He said, and I grumbled vaguely and waved him off in dismissal.

“Look, I am down at the customs office, but I cannot pull the video files form them. We will have to get the video from others. You can ask our friend about that; I am certain they could hook you up.”

I told him, and Henry hummed in understanding.

“Here I was thinking you simply didn’t trust them to give you the real deal.”

Henry said, and I snorted and said, “I still don’t, but make it clear I will walk if they try to screw us over on this one. I need to see the roster for the agents handling the inspections as well. Besides, I need you to tell Tomoki to move you guys to a new place, something not so tangibly connected to the Triad.”

Henry seemed to be typing something, likely sending in requests over the network connection. He did not ask me why I wanted them moved, he knew why. In my line of work, being this paranoid was all that kept myself and my charges safe.

“Where are you off to now?”

He asked, and I made a non-committal sound and said, “I’ll see you later Henry, be a good boy until then.”

I said, only mildly sounding like a ridiculous older sibling or something. After we hung up, I took pictures of the dead man’s face, and I quickly zoomed in and took a picture of his right index finger as well. My high-resolution digital camera could capture the ridges of his fingerprint digitally, so I could possibly search the NCIC database for his ID. I sent the photos off to Henry’s scrambled phone and then I fished out the dead man’s wallet, which was simply flush with a few C-notes and a couple of strip club business cards. One of them was the Red Riders, which was a ginger-only Irish mob run joint. If there was any doubt as to who had sent him, there was none anymore. The mob was making their first move on me, and I had to get out in front of this situation again.

After I collected the scant evidence I could on his person, I quickly backpedaled to my borrowed black Toyota Carola sedan. After this, I was going to need to ditch this car soon, since I was sure the mob likely had a fix on it now. It would be wiser for me to get something older that pre-dates computer systems and GPS. There were advantages to riding a beater, but the issue was staying incognito in one at the same time.

After I drove a few blocks, I procured a ninety-one Nissan coup. It was a boxy monstrosity, but it was also so ugly and incognito, that no one would miss it. The old motor purred like a kitten, which bespoke the quality of the small motors the old beast had.

The faded grey paint was devoid of the clear coat sheen, and there were a few spots of rust showing, but the car was a solid score. I didn’t have to break the dash column to get it running either, thanks to the less complex wiring system of the early model.

I left the black Toyota in the parking lot and I was careful to avoid any CCTV cameras exiting the substructure of the parking lot. I had chosen a long-term storage lot for this reason also because there was a chance, I could return the car later and no one would be any the wiser. My crime was the lesser of evils, and it helped me to slip back from the radar I had been plastered onto.

Now that I had a change in vehicles, I could make the meeting I had just arranged via an encrypted text. My contact replied shortly before I arrived in the northside district which was also partially controlled by the Irishmen. My final contact was a UC detective in the narcotics unit. She was one of the best and brightest I had met in my Chicago taskforce days. We had worked up the ranks together, and if she had been a little less straight, I would have been delighted to have explored more with her, but alas not every woman seems to be interested, unfortunately for me.  

When I pulled into the park, I saw a silhouette under a footbridge further ahead. She was very subtle, but I knew where she was going to be perched, so I could spot her quickly enough.

I scanned the area, and she seemed to do the same before she lazily made her way around the park, and to the parking lot as if only coincidentally arriving at my car a few minutes later.

Her usual blonde hair died a bright red, and her pasty complexion allowed her to pass for natural ginger. Not that all Irish people were red-headed, but I supposed there was a story behind her cover. Not to mention, most UC’s will change their natural appearance so as not to resemble their UC identity too perfectly once they are back on the streets.

“Katie Brown, it’s been a while.”

Her sky-blue eyes sparkled beautifully, as she nodded to me.

“Gina Giles, I guess it figures you’d be calling in this marker right now. Word is out, everyone’s got guns pointed at you right now. Something never seems to change with you girl!”

Katie said, her tone was casual and chatty, but I could detect the note of sisterly concern. Katies was one of the only people who believed me because she knew me. Katie knew I would never make up a sexual assault allegation. She also knew that it burnt every ounce of my pride to the floor to come forward with that charge, considering how weak and helpless admitting I was a victim had made me feel. In some ways, I always feel some of that weakness, even today, but then I play through the pain and I make my peace.

“I need you to look into something for me.”

She nodded and said, “I assume it is narcotic related if you’re coming to me?”

I nodded briskly and said, “Yep, I need to see what the past year of drug distribution and sales looks like across Peckford. I need to see what players are pushing what products and what weights seem to be circulating. I also want a comprehensive workup on every drug-related accident or death in this time frame as well.”

I could see Katie’s spider-sense was tingling now.

“That’s a lot, you want me to toss in a smoking gun for Shen while I am at it?”

I grinned at her sassy response and shrugged slightly.

“Hey, if you’re offering me one, sure. But if that is your way of trying to see if I am actually working for Shen, the answer is, only as much as I need to make right this hit on my head. No more, and no less. I am not crawling into bed with the Triad, so don’t worry about anything you give me reaching their eyes and ears.”

I told Katie, and I could see some faint traces of relief in her expression. It was not all that hard to understand why and how she might worry about my current allegiance because I am a marked woman.