“Pretty cute, Legere, I’ll give you that.”
“Praise from Caesar,” Legere said in a guffaw. “You’re definitely the cutest of all.”
Null stood in front of Legere, his Heckler & Koch aimed at his forehead. Legere was seated in an ancient swivel chair that rolled on casters next to a ruined wreck of a roll-top desk. He wore an overcoat, his gray hair slicked back and his jowly, florid face dimpled with amusement. He had the classic Magnum three-fifty-seven aimed straight at Null’s heart. His size thirteen shoes were resting on a milk crate used as a stool, legs crossed at the ankle.
They were on the fifth floor of a dilapidated commercial building on A Street in South Boston. Noises were coming up from the stairwell on the other side of the door but had to be ignored for the moment. The room they occupied was a bombed-out shell hardly resembling an office at all.
“If you could turn my head, Legere, I think it’d pull a three sixty.”
“You figure how this plays yet, genius?”
“Mostly, I think. Firstly, though, I think you might want to aim your pistol more toward my head. I’m wearing a flak jacket just as you are. I have a nice clear shot at the frontal lobe of your brain.”
“Think you can fire before me? Or do we both pop each other off at the same time? This’d make a nice scene in a movie, don’t you think?”
“I’m pretty sure John Woo covered this in a more exaggerated way in one of his movies. This is pretty tame compared with that.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Although what’s added here in the low budget edition is that death is very much in play. Your death, fuckstick.”
“Then I have you at a disadvantage, because death is a well-established ally of mine.”
“Maybe, or maybe you’ve just been lucky and right here and now, your luck has run out.” Legere chuckled, with an amused facial expression analogous to that of an alligator.
“We all have luck, Legere, you included. It’s one of the great features of the seemingly endless chaos we’re all subject to.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that. That’s something you and me have in common. We superimpose order on that chaos.”
“That’s right, Legere, that we do. And the order we impose is death.”
“What’s the play, Null? It’s your call.”
“Is it? This little set-up of yours in an abandoned office building was your call, not mine.”
“That’s right. In the here and now, I’m the shot caller, and you’re not.”
“I yield to your logic. What’s next?”
“Well, we either shoot each other or talk each other to death.”
“So far the latter prevails. I think it bothers you much more than me, though.”
“Maybe. I have a hunch you’re pretty human, though. You’re one of those tough guys really ain’t more than a little scared bitch projecting a façade. You wanna take your shot now? I’m pretty old, you know. I might miss.”
“I bet not. My headshot will come first, but yours won’t be too far behind.”
“Play this out the old-fashioned way? No guns?”
“What about knives?”
“I don’t have any. You?”
“I got a machete.”
“Leave it on the desk?”
“Sure. We both strip down to bare chests and pants in front of each other.”
“What if I have a small knife in my pants pocket? That’d end it all fast.”
“Don’t worry, Legere. I can handle it.”
“Pony up, Null.”
Legere stood, tossed off his coat, removed his shirt, timing it to coincide with Null’s shucking off his topcoat. Both removed their coats and shirts, still holding their handguns. Null laid the Bushmaster, the machete, and the Browning on the desk.
“You’re a prepared little fucker, ain’t you?”
“Yeah. I was a boy scout once.”
“Not anymore.”
“Put the pistols down on the desk on a three count?”
“Nerves will tell what happens at three.”
“I think you want a hands-on experience, Legere, but I’ll be just as ready at three as you.”
“Do it then.”
Both slammed their pistols down on the desk at the same instant with a sharp report, then they threw down on each other in a soundless collision. They suddenly broke apart for a moment, one of them certainly wounded, but it was difficult to see who actually drew first blood.
“This is too easy,” said Legere heaving.
“We’re both a mess, Legere. Neither one of us should ever be seen in public without a shirt.”
“I’ve got the height advantage. I’ve got more muscle than you and I outweigh you. After I beat you unconscious, I’m gonna have what’s left of Hebe Group use you as a toilet and an ashtray until you fucking die, you obnoxious little twerp!” Sweat dropped from his torso, neck and face like rain.
“I’m still standing.”
The big man charged Null, but he bent down and used Legere’s own weight as leverage to toss him over his back. Then he kicked Legere sharply in the face to get things going. Legere grabbed his leg and twisted until Null fell. Legere missed kicking him—Null dodged it too fast. Legere was slow and Null was not. Finally, Null decided to hit him head on and take whatever blows were coming. Legere obliged him enough so anyone else would have folded down to the filthy, ruined linoleum floor. But not Null.
When Null hugged him close under the rain of blows, he felt a hard metal shape in Legere’s pocket. He took note of this and persisted.
“What are you, a fucking punching bag?”
“Not exactly.”
In minutes, Null had Legere bloodied and panting on the floor, barely able to sit up. Null went for the Heckler on the desk. Legere shot him in the right shoulder. Null seemed not to notice as the blood ran down his side. He stood there with a quizzical look on his face, sizing Legere up.
“Jesus fuck, you stupid zombie. Why don’t you just die!”
Null stood looking at him, unaffected with the Heckler in his hand, but lowered slowly by his side.
“Derringer twenty-two, isn’t it? Must be an antique. Handy little thing, though.”
“It does the job. Think you can make the kill shot before I put next round in your brain.”
“Shall we dance?”
Legere out of nowhere and apropos of nothing started to laugh uproariously.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are, dumbshit zombie fuck!”
“Enlighten me.”
“Oh, surely. Do you really think I expected you to come here alone?”
“I kinda didn’t.”
“So what do you think I did, hotshot?”
“Deployed some torpedoes to whack me out.”
“Not just some. Pick a high number.”
“They can’t be very good. I fucked up Hebe’s cashflow nicely. So, you must have bought volume on the cheap. And you wouldn’t shell out for it yourself. You’re not the generous type.”
“Very fucking good. Now, I’ll raise you. You got three gun-hands with you. One lesbian cop in disgrace, one disposable contract hitter with a sensitive stomach, and one stupid nigger. That right?”
“No, it isn’t. She’s not a lesbian. Janis is hardly what you’d call disposable and we don’t call blacks niggers.”
“Well, nice to see you’re a politically correct psychopath.”
“We each have our virtues.”
“Here’s your choice: flap your gums here with me or shoot it out with me and hope you get down there in time to keep your pals from getting blipped off. And I got another round here just for you.” Legere rubbed his damaged face with his free hand and revealed a sickly, bloodied smile. “Oh, that’s right. You like to torture them to death, rather than make the quick hit. But time is ticking, isn’t it? Better blow a hole in me now and be done with it, because I’m betting from those faint popping sounds I’m hearing on the opposite side of that door that your friends are in a bit of a mess.”
Legere laughed. Feeling emboldened, he tried to raise himself up off the colorless, distressed linoleum, but Null kicked him back down with ruthless precision, cooled him out.
The bullet wound wasn’t slowing him up in the least.
Null hung the machete back around his neck, threw on his coat and grabbed the Magnum, the Browning and the Bushmaster, quickly checking that the clip was secure.
“You’re right, Legere, you’re not gonna die fast. Not at all. You’ll see what I have in store for you after I take care of a few things.”
“I’ll be pissing on your grave first,” said Legere, spitting little flecks of blood then descending into a coughing jag.
Null slammed the door behind him, not hearing Legere’s final comment.
“They’re on every floor, you stupid fuck!”
* * *
And so they were.
Null must have sensed it, even though he didn’t hear Legere say it. When he left the office into the broken lobby of the fifth floor by the condemned elevator bank, he went out blasting, firing bursts from the Bushmaster in his descent. The gunsels came hard and heavy, firing semi-automatic rounds. Null took a few in the flak jacket, but with measured progress and even breathing, he began literally killing his way down to the first floor. He shouldn’t have made it. The rounds fired were too many, diverse and wild.
It was like a funhouse, minus the fun.
Yet, with the Heckler in one hand and the Bushmaster in the other, he fired semi-automatic bursts all the slow and murderous way down. When the Heckler was spent, he still had the presence of mind to use Legere’s Magnum, and when the Bushmaster was done, he managed to shoulder it under his coat and broke out the Browning, taking two more rounds in the flak jacket for his trouble that should have had him collapsing on the steps or at the landing, barely able to breathe.
It didn’t.
He wheezed a bit but kept right on going, gunsel bodies falling or retreating in his wake.
Janis stopped him at the second floor, her face full of blood, yet grinning.
“Where’s Kay and Dominic?”
“They were behind you, coming down from the roof.”
“Really.”
“What—you think you could’ve gotten down here in one piece by yourself? Take all those fuckers out all by your lonesome?”
Null’s breathing was shallow, but his voice stayed even.
“No. It’s not the movies.”
“Jesus Christ, this isn’t even cable!”
“Why the bloody face?”
“I think a round may have grazed my scalp. Head wounds bleed like a bitch, you know.”
“I’ve heard that somewhere.”
“It’s in some handbook somebody wrote.”
“I never read it.”
“Me neither. Some people are just naturals, I guess.”
“We’re clear on the first floor?”
“Yeah. Those assholes took no pride in their work at all. They just booked when things got heavy.”
“And the ones who didn’t?”
“Gonzo. You can have Dominic take their picture with your phone while you’re at it.”
“He can use his own phone this time.
“I can hear them sort of, up there. I think this little foray might have given me tinnitus.”
“You took them out with the Pico?”
“No, I seemed to do okay with one of Kay’s rogue police weapons, a Ruger SR9 nine-millimeter. Light and fast, easy on the reload. Who knew she was a gun nut?”
“She digs the nickel-plated Sig-Sauer.” Null paused, cocked his head. “Those voices upstairs are them?”
“Who else? Why, did you leave anyone standing?”
“I tried not to.”
“I tend to think you managed. How many rounds did you take in that flak jacket? And you took a round in the shoulder, for Christ’s sake. Why the hell are you still standing?”
“Practice,” said Null, turning his back on Janis and making the slow, beleaguered trudge upstairs with thudding footfalls.
“What about Legere?”
“Don’t worry, he’s not standing. He’s got one more slug left in his pocket Derringer, though. Be sure he’ll use it.”
“Yeah. Even a pea shooter with a twenty-two round in it can still do some damage. I’ll watch it.”
The door to the office on the fifth-floor landing had to be kicked in. It had locked automatically behind Null when he slammed it shut—Legere’s way of making sure there would be no retreat from the surge of hired gunsels ready to take him out all the way down to the bottom.
Dominic kicked the door in after a few loud, abortive tries. It exploded open on the last and Legere fired off his final Derringer round on reflex, figuring to hit the first person in, presumably Null. He missed. Dominic was first in and he was no small target. Everyone had guns up and ready.
No one fired a shot, waiting for Null.
“Why are you still alive?” said Legere, tossing the empty Derringer to the side.
“Waste of a round, Legere, not that it would have helped you,” Null stated flatly.
“It would’ve helped me if it penetrated your fucking brain.”
“It would’ve helped you if you had aimed it better.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Null, headshots aren’t easy. Takes skill and control to get it right, especially when you’re down to your last round.”
“Hey, girlie, I’m a dead shot.”
“Well, Mack, you’re half right,” Janis rejoined.
“So kill me already. Get it done and stop flapping your gums.”
“I never figured you’d beg for it, Legere.”
“Anything to not have to listen to you fucking jabronies yap.”
“How does this go down, Null, since you’re shot caller? Isn’t that what they call you on the street? How much disgusting mayhem do I have to gape at?”
“None, actually. You don’t have to stay, Kay. You can go.”
“I want to know how this plays out.”
“I think you have an idea about that.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“I could take him out with a twenty-two from the Pico. I won’t need a nine mil for this—what did he say? Jabroni.”
“What do you think, Dominic?”
“I think y’all fifty-one-fifty. I don’t know why I ain’t killed yet either.”
“You handled the Smith & Wesson just fine,” Boyd countered.
“And I’m helpin’ fuckin’ five-o on top of shit!”
“Not really. I’m on suspension. I’m just another girl.”
“I ain’t never see no bitch crazy like you, and I seen some bitches.” Dominic was still trying to catch his breath; his clothes were soaked through with sweat and his face was pale. He was struggling to adjust to the perverse scene of the bodies, blood, fear and now a garbage strewn office with a huge old guy lolling on the floor with his shirt off.
“Well, Dominic, here we are at last, your moment has arrived.”
“What you mean?”
Legere pushed himself up off the debased linoleum floor, shirtless and trembling slightly.
“You pukes had your day. Now, I’m gonna scram, so get the fuck out of my way.”
“I could knock you back down again with a feather,” said Null.
“Better be a two-ton feather, pally.”
“No, just a young man who has a bone to pick with you.”
“Get out of my way.”
“Keep still, Legere. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“This fucker’s BB filler!”
“You couldn’t be more right, Dominic. You wanted to know who killed Edgar and Howard? Well, there he is. Meet Emmanuel Legere, Hebe Group chief torpedo. He did it.”
Calm descended upon Dominic’s face. He squared his shoulders and got his breathing under control.
“This punk nigger gonna stop me?”
“I think so, Legere. I won’t lay a finger on you and neither will the women. Your fight’s with Dominic. Think you can handle it, Dominic?”
“Yeah, dog. I’m your vampire. Here. I don’t need no gat for this fool.”
Null took the Smith & Wesson forty-five semi-automatic, nodded, and Dominic moved forward.
“No point to this. Null. You win. I’m gone. As of now, I’m history with Hebe Group, and they’re pretty much history as it stands, thanks to you. I’m leaving Boston. You won’t hear from me again.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier? Oh, well, I’m satisfied, thank you very much.”
The blood spot at the shoulder of Null’s topcoat was increasing in size, though he ignored it. No one else did.
Legere grabbed his shirt off the roll-top desk and put it on, looking sallow, and bedraggled in the inadequate yellow light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. All shadows were immense. His face was bloodied and swollen, and his nose was like a bulbous tomato in the center of his face. “Can I take back the Magnum?”
“Sorry, Legere. Spoils of war.”
“Get out of my way then.”
“I don’t think so,” Boyd seethed.
“I don’t beat on women.”
“You won’t have to,” added Null.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, Legere, I have no quarrel with you. You’re no child molester, you’re just an enabling exploiter.”
“Yeah, well, you usually murder those too, otherwise what you’ve done to Hebe would make no sense.”
“That’s true. But I have no intention of laying a finger on you.”
“Then move aside, zombie fuck!”
“No. I won’t. You see, even though I don’t have a problem with you, my friend Dominic here does. It seems you murdered his brother when you blew up the Gangsta Boyz clubhouse. Dominic has a bone to pick with you, don’t you, Dominic?”
“Real talk, homes!”
Dominic was breathing hard through his nostrils. His blood was up.
“Go through Dominic, if you can, and you’re home free.”
“Fuck that. This chomo’s mine!”
“I don’t fuck the kiddies.”
“Might as well, cuz I’m gonna fuck you up anyway.”
“You women don’t have to stay for this, you know. You know where it’s going.”
“We’re getting used to it,” Janis sighed.
“I want to see it. You know, I’ve been feeling better since we started. It’s not rational or fair. But I do. I’ll watch this play out. Because I need to know they’re not getting away with it. I have to see it.”
“I promise you that you will, Kay.”
She could hardly hear him.
Before Boyd could finish her last sentence, Dominic stepped forward, grabbed Legere into a bear hug and lifted him a foot off the floor, squeezing hard, not seeming to feel any of the punches leveled at his ribs. Legere got a few punches in at Dominic’s face and it looked like they rattled him.
But they didn’t.
Legere was already wounded from the struggle with Null, so it wasn’t long before an unschooled roundhouse right to the chin put Legere down on his knees. That was when Dominic rallied and really started to go to work on Legere. He had seen what Null had done to Hal Champerty and decided to duplicate it on Legere, who by then had lost consciousness, which didn’t slow Dominic up one bit.
Before he lost consciousness, Legere managed to gurgle like shouting an epithet through a fountain, “I didn’t do it!”
Hammer punching Legere in the face until his voice box could only produce a wet slosh, Dominic answered him, with an inflection more of pity than anger. “I know, dawg. Edgar and Howard didn’t do it neither.”