“I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE IT.” Laskin rolled over, nursing the welt along his temple.
He took a deep breath, pulled himself into a sitting position, back to the wall, trying to fight off the growing sensation of pain behind his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been on the floor. Five minutes? At the most it might’ve been ten. He wondered where that bitch had gotten too.
He was on his feet but not feeling too steady. He could hear boots coming back towards the kitchen.
It was fucking Miller and Turner.
“Uh, sir, just checking back with you. Ms. Black has Solanski and the Talos guys outside taking a broader sweep. Going up the street, checking other buildings.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Half hour maybe, sir.”
Laskin didn’t say anything, still paying attention to the throbbing in his head, trying to focus on his watch. The two men stood looking down at the floor, Turner shuffling from foot to foot.
Laskin hissed, “Stop with the fucking noise.”
Turner froze, watched as Laskin raised his head, the purple scar on the side of his head livid. Turner said, “Sorry sir, would you like me to get you something for that?”
“No you fucktard,” Laskin spat. “I wanted you to get me Slaught. Now get back out there and find him and bring him to me. Alive.”
Miller said, “I don’t think Slaught is here sir, not sure any of them are. I mean, we’re talking about around forty people and so far, we’ve been top to bottom and haven’t found anyone. I think maybe we’re too late.”
Laskin, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think Miller. Find him. Or find me some of those breeders and brats so we can start hauling one out every five minutes to shoot until one of them tells us where Slaught is, got it? Forty people just don’t vanish. Now get out of my face and get going. I’ll be there in five.”
Miller found Mitch out front of the hotel, reporting back that Laskin seemed more aggressive than usual, and was wondering if his head injury could be further impairing his judgement, and Turner said, you mean making him more of a miserable bastard than usual, and Mitch told Turner to shut the fuck up and let her think.
“Okay, Solanski, Burke, take the perimeter and keep checking for any indication of a mass evacuation. Watch for any tracks out of here, maybe even up on the street, there could be people in any of those houses. You three, get back inside and locate Laskin. That is a priority. We don’t want this situation escalating, so be careful. Under the circumstances, I think it’s best if we take Mr. Laskin out of the picture until we can assess his condition. Got your stun guns? Use them.”
Miller asked, “So, technically, are you second in command?”
“No shitbird, technically I’m first in command. I am Talos as far as you’re concerned, and Talos is in charge, got it?”
Miller nodded, headed back towards the side door of the hotel. That woman was such a ball-breaker. He wasn’t sure who he loathed more, her or her raging partner. This was the most useless, fucking assignment ever. Once inside, he paused to catch his breath, sending Turner back into the dining room, telling Leclerc to take the second floor. He headed up to the third floor, hitting the top of the stairs and moving down the skinny hallway, kids’ pictures along the wall, coloured bright reds and blues. He was getting a real bad feeling abut the whole thing. The Captain had been right, it had disaster written all over it from the get go. He’d felt good when Muspar had taken him aside, told him to stay on his toes and report in if things started going off the rails, but now he just felt burdened by it—what the hell should he do? Take on that bitch? Not for the world.
He heard something further down the hall and pulled out his stun gun, keeping it down at his side.
“Mr. Laskin?”
“In here.”
He followed the voice, found Laskin leaning against a desk, a big picture of Madonna behind him on the wall. The walls of the small room were covered with pictures cut out from magazines and newspapers.
Laskin turned a sour look on Miller, “What do you see?”
Miller shrugged, feeling unsure as to whether to go straight at him and take him out, or talk him down and take him back to Black. Laskin tossed a book on the desk, then grabbed another, and another, throwing them just past his head. “Military history, all of them, every single book. Look,” he pitched another one across the room, hard, “The Art of War.”
“Have you read it?”
“No, I haven’t fucking read it Miller. I don’t read fucking books, but I have heard of it.”
Miller said cautiously, “There’s probably a history buff in the bunch, some stodgy professor or something.”
“I don’t fucking think so Sherlock, I think we’ve been had.”
Miller decided he’d try to reason with the guy, see if he could get him to leave the room, then maybe get him from behind. “Look, it might make us feel better to think that these guys were serious contenders, but the reality is Slaught was a snowmobile dealer, and Commando a bush thinner. End of story.”
“I’m telling you, these guys are the real thing.”
“Come on, look, there’s lots of different books here, some on cooking.”
“What if it’s a set up?”
“A set up?”
“Scott, or Muspar, remember that little shit Ricky, infiltrating us maybe, playing both sides, maybe there’s something there…”
“Sir, why don’t we go find the others, and lay out our plan for rounding these guys up, whatever they are.”
”No, you and me are going to go find those nice people, drag a few out onto the main street and start shooting. That should wrap things up pretty quick, get this thing over with. I’m tired of this fucking around. How the Christ do you hide forty people?”
Miller looked at the welt running along Laskin’s face, the guy’s colour high, his face all blotchy. He looked like a fucking maniac. “Our orders were for arrest and containment, maybe relocation, of our non-combatants, sir.”
“What the fuck do you know about our orders? You know shit. That’s what you know about anything, absolute shit. Your orders come from me, period.”
“All due respect sir, there are families here.”
Laskin glared for a second, then smiled. “I don’t care. Someone is going to break. Your choice if it’s a kid or Grampa Bob. Now let’s go.”
“Is that what Captain Muspar requested?” Miller asked, watching carefully as Laskin’s eyes narrowed.
“You have one more strike Miller, that’s it.”
Miller stood his ground, but he was feeling uncomfortable, just wanting to get the hell away from Laskin, said, “Sir, Captain Muspar is the ultimate authority for our end of the operation. Maybe we can check back and confirm my orders?”
“You sound like a goddam school prefect. I don’t know who you’re trying to kid, but this wouldn’t be the first time the Service has had to take out civilians, it’s been going on under the radar for the past couple of years. And right now, Muspar’s out of the picture and Scott’s just worried about covering his ass.”
Miller said, “What? Not sure I understand you, sir? How is the Captain out of the picture?”
“Grow up Miller, okay? You wanted to volunteer with the big boys, so start acting like one and fucking obey direct orders, alright?”
“I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I can’t kill civilians.”
Laskin pushed into Miller’s shoulder as he moved past him, said, “But I can.”
Miller took a deep breath and said, “Under Section 6.3 of the Civilian Security Code you are a rogue officer, and I am relieving you of your command, sir. I’m afraid I will have to take your weapon, I’m calling this in to Captain Muspar.”
Laskin stopped, stepped back a few paces and looked at Miller who was standing almost at attention, shoulders back, a serious but expectant look on his face. He was saying, “Your weapon please…” when Laskin said, “Yeah, here it is,” and pushed his gun into Miller’s forehead and fired two rounds.
There was a few seconds of silence as the echo of the rounds died out and then Miller fell back, knocking over a chair stacked with books, his face a slurpy mess.
Shaun and Chumboy were sitting out on the baggage carousel. It was kind of crowded in the office, so Chum had said to Ricky and Jeff, “Get to it boys, and Harv, keep an eye on buddy there.”
Chumboy was still complaining about the pop and Shaun said, “Well, what did you expect?” and Chum said, “More, I always expect more,” and then the bathroom door opened and a security guard walked out tucking his shirt into his belt, and Chumboy said, “Shit, I didn’t expect that.”
The security guard came up short when he saw them, confusion, maybe a bit of fear, flickering across his face as his eyes shot over to the open door of the office. Chumboy saw the guard’s hand move towards the gun on his hip and also felt Shaun’s gun move but Chumboy reached over and he placed his hand on it saying, “Now, now Shaun, no need for that,” smiling at the security guard, saying, “Your friend is just helping us out a bit in there, probably best if you go join him,” and he slid his gun up, pointing it at the guard, and gestured towards the door calling, “Room for one more at the party gentlemen?”
They took the guy’s gun and walked him into the office, Chumboy saying, “Have a seat with your buddy. We shouldn’t be taking up too much of your time,” and then to Jeff, “So how much longer will it be, it’s getting claustrophobic in here.”
Jeff, nodding, said, “Patience.”
Ricky said, “I’ll be glad to get back.”
“No kidding, have ourselves a big moose burger. Man, doesn’t get much better than that.”
The guard snorted. “Don’t know where you’ve been buddy, but this is a game preserve, there’s no hunting here.”
“Well, we’ve been living free as birds up here in your game preserve for some time now.”
“There isn’t anyone up in the Territories.”
Chumboy was about to answer when Shaun said from the doorway, “Just try it asshole,” leveling his gun at the second guard. Ricky straightened himself out and Chumboy looked at Shaun, “Steady there.”
Shaun said, “He was reaching for his gun on the desk there. Guess next time it’d be best not to leave it within reach like that.”
Chumboy shook his head and looked reproachfully at the guard, “Billy, don’t be a hero.” And Jeff laughed, said, “Yeah, don’t be a fool with your life,” and both Chumboy and Jeff laughed and the guard said, “This isn’t a joke you guys, this is a federal installation. You’re in big shit and it’s just going to get worse. Whatever it is you are up to, I’d stop now and just leave, we’ll give you a head start before we call it in, but this isn’t going to turn out good for you guys.”
“Like I said, it’s just a simple public service announcement.”
Jeff said, “And as they said in olden times, it’s a wrap. I-TIME, here we come.”
“Okay, time’s up, mind hitting the john for a few minutes while we finish up fellas? Right this way.” He gestured with his gun and they stood, going through the door, Chumboy saying to the guards, “Go shut yourselves in your stalls and count to fifty. Then you can get back to counting sheep and it’ll be like we were never here.”
He pulled the washroom door shut. “Everyone but Shaun leave your guns on the baggage thing and let’s hit the road.”
There was a knocking from inside the door.
“Hey, you guys?” It was the first guard.
“Yeah, what’s up buddy?”
“You serious about living in the park?”
“You bet,” Chumboy answered.
“Maybe the wife and I will come up once this all blows over, got room for a family of four?”
Chumboy looked at Larose and smiled. “Our first recruitment drive.”
“Hey, and one more thing?”
“What’s that?”
“How come you’re carrying fake guns?”
“For shit’s sake,” Larose muttered. “He made us from the get go.”
Chumboy said through the door,” We’re postmodern, that’s why.”
“What does that mean?”
“Look it up in the dictionary.”
“Don’t have one.”
Chumboy shook his head. “Well, then definitely drop in to Cobalt and see us. We got it all, moose burgers and dictionaries.”