When Graveyards Yawn - G. Wells Taylor (robert munsch read aloud .TXT) 📗
- Author: G. Wells Taylor
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Book online «When Graveyards Yawn - G. Wells Taylor (robert munsch read aloud .TXT) 📗». Author G. Wells Taylor
In moments, both Cane and Willieboy were stripped to their shirtsleeves. The search had yielded up a pair of handguns. In addition, they found brass knuckles and a lead sap in Cane’s pockets. Both Inspectors looked naked and uncertain without their weapons. Still, I had to admit that neither looked scared enough. They had some wild cards.
“You clusterfuck!” Willieboy exclaimed by way of greeting me.
“Glad you could make it, asshole!” I said, but fell silent when Adrian speared me with a look.
“I will stay in charge of these proceedings.” He rubbed his palms together. “Gentlemen, I assume you both have something to offer. I cannot think you would approach me empty-handed. I hope Mr. Wildclown’s presence does not bother you. He did broker this little meeting after all. Since he has been a thorn in all of our sides for so long it would please me that he should stay. I would like to hear his observations. His contempt is so thinly disguised, equal only to his naiveté.” Then all humor left him. “And you might want to participate in his punishment.”
“You’re the boss!” Willieboy took a cigarette from his pack on the table, and smiled at me around it.
Cane chewed his toothpick. He pointed a finger at me. “You fucker.” He grinned and licked his fat lips. “I should have killed you…”
“After all the help I gave you.” I had a definite urge to see Cane bleed profusely. “I put you onto Adrian in the first place. It was obvious Willieboy knew about him. He told me how to find him. But he kept it from your group. I gave him to you, but you let him slip away.”
“Dogmeat, you’re fucking dogmeat…“Cane raised a fist.
“Please,” Adrian interrupted, glancing at Cane. “Now, you offered twenty million. I believe that was dollars. Ludicrously low, but let’s call it ante.”
“Hey, hey!” Willieboy spoke up, agitated. “The bidding hasn’t started yet.”
“True. But that’s what it will cost to enter the game.” Adrian finished his drink, and then motioned for one of his men to fix another. He smiled at me, then at Cane. “You gentlemen seem to have a great deal of animosity for each other.”
“Cane introduced me to a friend of his.” I frowned at Cane. “How is the Handyman? I hope he’s having a tough time adjusting.”
Cane growled and instinctively clenched his right hand.
Adrian chuckled.
I turned to glare at him. “I suppose I have you to thank as well, and Ms. Van Reydner. Cane and his bullies were waiting for me at the Arizona Hotel. The Handyman tried to torture information out of me.” I smiled at Cane. “I gave him a bit.”
Cane’s face lost all emotion and paled. “I should have cut you up myself.”
“Yes, I think you should have. But you missed your chance.” I clenched my fists. “I believe Adrian is going to have the honor now.”
“Gentlemen. Let’s not turn this into a bar room brawl.” Adrian had sauntered behind the bar and poured himself a drink. He took a gulp.
“I’ve got a question,” I spoke up. “Who killed Alan Cotton first?” I jabbed my chin at Adrian. “You and Van Reydner just stumbled on it, didn’t you? You were doing your sick business on Conrad Billings, and you overheard something in the next room.”
Adrian smiled again. “You are a savant!”
“And you were just lucky. That was all it took. You were there. You shot Cotton, then you stole whatever it was that he was selling, and left before his prospective buyers arrived.” I lit a new cigarette. “I think it was Cane who was next. He got there and found Cotton just coming out of Blacktime. Cane represents a concern that very much wanted what he had to sell. Cane gets there, maybe the Handyman’s with him, and they work over Cotton really bad. They torture him, and since he was already dead, they had to be extreme. The problem is that Cotton had no idea where his Regenerics Secret was at that point. He died quickly the first time. Isn’t that right, Mr. Adrian? So he could only tell Cane that he opened a door and saw a gun barrel. Then Blacktime! But he did tell Cane what his secret was. Am I right? And that’s why you decided to turn him into blood pudding. So no one else would ever know.”
“That’s a fucking lie, Wildclown!” Cane took a step toward me. “He was already…” But that was all he choked out because Willieboy brought down both his heavy fists on the back of Cane’s neck. There was an audible cracking sound, and he dropped on the carpet.
Guns clicked all around me, barrels pointed at Willieboy. He held his hands up. His voice was shrill. “No, no goddamn it. I thought he was going to take a swing at Wildclown. Don’t shoot.”
I knelt by Cane. He wasn’t breathing. I felt his neck. It was as loose as a rag doll’s. I looked up. “Jesus, Willieboy, remind me to never ask you for a massage.” I wiggled Cane’s head. “A bit excessive, don’t you think?” I wiped my hands on my coat.
He shook his head turning to Adrian. “Don’t worry about Cane. He was small time. The group I’m representing is willing to pay one hundred million dollars for the Regenerics Secret, plus percentages on the gross.”
Just as Adrian’s mouth was turning up into a big happy grin, the penthouse roof exploded over the pool table and it started raining Authority Enforcers. The couch around me began to erupt in chunks of bunting and wood. I leapt behind it, grabbed for my gun. I found my guard; I think it was him. His head was missing.
The air was alive with staccato machinegun fire. There were the trademark repetitive chewing booms of Authority auto-shotguns. I glanced around the room, and immediately saw one of Adrian’s men, decked out in Enforcer armor shooting from behind a pillar. I was in his line of fire, if he turned it on me, so I had to be sure. I saw a thin pale groove at the base of his neck where the Kevlar and plastic met skin. Gun leveled, I fired at the edge of the mask. There was a simultaneous metallic whine and groan. He slumped over in a heap. I swung around in time to see Adrian dive into a room behind the bar. Two other rooms opened onto the battlefield. Authority bullets were eating up my barricade so I snapped two shots over the couch then ducked and rolled into the room after Adrian. I spun onto my stomach. Willieboy had taken refuge in a room opposite me. He smiled as he barked into a miniature transceiver.
A foot stamped down on my hand, my gun rattled behind the door. I looked up, and caught Adrian’s fist behind the ear. I rolled seeing sparks. Outside, the gun battle raged. Adrian must have had more hired guns in the penthouse because the invasion force was preoccupied. They had expected a massacre and had found the beachhead at Normandy. I slugged Adrian in the face doing my best to wipe his nose off. Blood burst from it. It was a weak hit because I was fighting from the ground, but it threw him off enough, and the gun he was holding popped once at my left shoulder.
I felt a slap of pain, then nothing as my arm went numb. I shifted my body onto his gun hand, and slugged Adrian with my right; he kicked at my groin. I caught his foot and knocked him over. His gun flew onto the bed. He toppled into a coffee table and dresser. I was up. We were in an enormous bedroom. It had its own living room. I ran at Adrian, leapt on and off an overstuffed easy chair. My fist caught his chin hard. He buried his knuckles in my guts. We went down, rolled against the bed. Adrian’s face glared at me. I glared back.
“Join me, Wildclown!” he growled angrily, blood spraying from between his teeth. “I have millions. I have the…”
I threw a fist at his temple. Adrian was no slouch. I suddenly felt his arms turn to steel, then caught two of his punches on the left cheek. My left arm was wood. More sparks flew. My vision jumped. I wrestled one of his arms to his side.
“Wildclown!” Adrian threw a glance at the door. I noticed the gunfire had become sporadic. A fog of acrid smoke rolled over us. “They’ll be in here to get us. We’re both dead if they do. I have a way out. Join me. At least don’t stop me!”
“Where’s Van Reydner?” I choked as his forearm slid across my throat.
Suddenly Adrian smiled. He had managed to push my right shoulder under the bed, pinning it. The best my wounded left could do was flail like a landed fish. His forearm suddenly weighed ten tons as he found leverage. He chuckled and whipped his right arm onto the bed. It came back with a gun attached. A dark light filled his eyes.
“Where is she you stupid clown?” I could smell the cordite; the muzzle was so close. My blood had spattered the barrel like paint. “The first place…” But that was all he said. A fountain erupted out of his chest. I gagged as blood gushed over my face. Adrian rolled forward off of me, and lay still. I pushed the gore from my eyes and looked at Willieboy. He stood in the doorway smiling, weighing the machinegun in his hands.
“Help me get his body. We’ll question him later.” Willieboy’s eyes were stern. He took a step toward me. The gunfire had stopped outside. Authority Enforcers were closing in on the room. Someone had shot out the lights, but I saw a glint on gunmetal.
“Willieboy!” I hissed and pointed.
Willieboy swung around already shooting. Bullet holes pocked a ballistic trail along the wall as he turned. He concentrated his fire on the facemask at the door. It erupted in sparks and blood. My hair stood up; I sensed motion behind me. I kicked Willieboy in the calf, and ducked. He swung his gun around still firing.
Adrian was out of Blacktime. Standing, his corpse took the withering blast in the abdomen. Bones and blood burst in a wide upward gash, the body toppled back, the hole in his chest ate into his face. The heavy caliber bullets pushed him as they tore him apart. Then he was gone. His body slammed into the window and out. There was a great crash, nothing more. Then dark smoke from the penthouse battle rolled in the door and filled the room.
“Fuck!” barked Willieboy. He shook the machinegun. “Fuck!” he roared as he spun and let a blast go at the door. “Wildclown! Move that fucking dresser and overturn that mattress on it. Quick!”
I was still bleeding from the bullet wound in my shoulder, so I was a little slow. Willieboy kicked at me as I climbed to my feet. “Hurry, we’re running out of time!”
My arms were leaden as I pushed the large oak dresser near the bed. I idly looked out the shattered window and thought of Adrian one hundred floors below—smashed to sleep now, beyond any worldly cares. I envied him as I pushed the dresser, felt my head throb against the weight. I heard Willieboy yell “Fuck!” again, when a tear gas canister thumped and rattled into the room. Still firing, he dropped to one knee, grabbed it and threw it out again. He thrust
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