Freedom Incorporated - Peter Tylee (best biographies to read TXT) 📗

with himself for making such a racket. Come on Danny-boy, stop fucking up… the next time it might cost you. He took a deep, steadying breath and pressed ahead, easily finding the stairwell. A chilly draft wafted from the basement, carrying the scent of damp grit and oil. It reminded Dan of the time he’d visited an underground mine and resurrected feelings of claustrophobia.

He moved as silently as he could in his croaking leather boots. Five flights up he stopped to ease some spit around the two leather flaps that were making the noise before continuing his upward journey. He gripped the handrail as if it was his only link to life; the last thing he wanted was to miss a step and tumble backward into the void - he didn’t want to become a quadriplegic. But the icy metallic rail was steadily numbing his fingers and making his knuckles ache.

The distant thud of footfalls made him freeze and he thanked the dim, almost nonexistent lighting in the stairwell.

Voices. Two. He wasn’t close enough to delineate individual words, but the muted muttering was definitely getting stronger. They were above, possibly on the tenth floor. Or was it the eleventh? It was hard to tell in the dark, he was becoming disorientated and knew with grim certainty that he’d never be able to retrace his steps.

Dan slithered through the nearest door, both glad and frightened to have finally reached some light. He shielded his eyes until they adjusted and he drew into the shadows as far as he could. It looked empty. There was carpet on the floor and the walls had been freshly painted, but only a few loose cables dangled from strategic places in the ceiling. There were no desks, no obligatory coffee machine, no computers, nothing. It was a barren landscape of stale dust and silverfish husks. He listened, paused, and crept his way up the building, empty floor by empty floor, counting no fewer than 40 abandoned levels before finally encountering something habited. It begged the question why UniForce had bothered constructing such a massive building. Maybe they’re stitching together a subletting deal. He doubted it. UniForce was not the type of company to share. So maybe they intend some serious expansion. Even that was difficult to swallow. Forty floors worth? It didn’t make sense. UniForce had no need of a large onsite workforce, their contractors - the bounty hunters and assassins - worked offsite and alone. Status then? That was the only logical conclusion he could draw. All the other giga-corporations had mammoth headquarters so UniForce wanted one too. That’s pathetic. The more he discovered about his ex-surrogate company the more he found to dislike.

With a great deal of effort and backtracking, he located the portals on the fiftieth floor. Three constipated looking men were guarding them. That’s strange. There would be none if UniForce hadn’t declared a state of company emergency. Portals had impermeable locks, so it was unusual to waste resources protecting them. But UniForce was in panic mode and capable of many unusual decisions.

Portal reception was the only place Dan knew he would definitely find a map of the building. Of course, there was none. There was only a list of internal portal destinations, but since portals were numbered logically according to their physical location, it was nearly as good.

He watched the guards from the depth of the shadows, convinced they hadn’t noticed his silent approach. A wash of adrenaline coursed through his body, accompanied by the familiar sharpening of his senses that always came before he made a move. He toyed with the idea of dropping all three from where he crouched. Tempting. Katherine stopped him, or more to the point, the thought of what she would’ve said if he slew three innocent men stopped him. A pang of guilt seeped into his mind just for considering it an option.

Something else.

He used his scope to look at the board, circumventing the problem altogether. It worked well enough; the chart gave him an idea of the building layout. He trekked back to the stairwell and resumed his climb, feeling the exertion in his thighs and exhilaration in his head.

*

Michele was reclining in her chair, dabbing perfume on her wrists and smearing it behind her ears. The tedium was gnawing at her nerves and she’d been in a terrible mood for the past few days. She hated this part of the job, the emergencies. Why can’t they sort it out on their own? James was busy with his computer and Esteban was off looking for Dan. But what can I do? Worst of all, the UniForce showers didn’t approach the high standards she’d become accustomed to.

Damn Jackie. She wondered whether Jackie would check the logs. She’d need an exceedingly good reason to leave the office during a company emergency, especially since Jackie had charged her with the responsibility of handling the situation. And Michele wasn’t good at fabricating excuses so she had little choice but to stay put. She knew she’d get away with it if she were to seduce Jackie again, but the memory of the last time still left a bad taste in her mouth. It was somehow worse than the horde of men she’d been with, Jackie’s crotch tasted like swamp.

She shook her perfume bottle and watched the froth at the top split the light into its spectrum. It entertained her for close to quarter of an hour before a voice rudely interrupted her.

“Funny I should find you here.”

She leaned forward and twisted to the door, surprise registering on her face when she stared into the barrel of a pistol. Dan had closed the door and taken five paces into her office without her noticing. She wondered how, and in her fatigued state, that was about all she could ask. “How’d you get in here?”

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about how you’re going to get out of here,” Dan replied dryly. “We’re going to play a game.”

“Of what?” Michele asked, her big eyes betraying her stupidity.

“Twenty questions.” Dan pulled up a chair and straddled it, keeping his aim in the middle of Michele’s forehead. “But before we start, I want you to put the perfume down and place your hands on the table where I can see them.” He waited for her to comply. “Good, now, number one, where is Esteban?”

“I don’t know,” she said as a reflex.

“Wrong answer,” Dan snapped. “That’s one strike, and you only get three. Do you understand me?”

She nodded.

“So where is Esteban?”

“I really don’t know. All I know is that he left looking for you, and that was… like… hours ago.” Michele looked flustered, though not for any of the reasons Dan might have guessed.

“Hours? How many hours?” Dan pressed, trying to decide whether she was telling the truth.

“Maybe, uh, three o’clock yesterday afternoon?”

Dan did the maths in his head. That’d be about right.

“I haven’t seen him since, honest.”

“And you have no idea where he went?”

She shook her head. “No, none.”

“Question two: the Raven. Why’s he always turning up at my targets?” It was a test question. He already knew the answer; he wanted to check whether she was telling him the truth.

She paused and lowering her eyes to her hands, a sign that warned Dan she might be about to lie. “We found a clerical error in the system. I’d like to be the first to apologise sincerely for the mistake. We’ve been selling exclusive lists to both of you.”

Smooth, very smooth… but still a lie. He consoled himself with the fact that he now knew what to look for. If she lowered her eyes, he’d have to push harder for the truth. “I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth!” she said indignantly.

“Clerical error? Come on Roche, I’m not stupid. How much have you made so far?”

She looked dejected but still harboured the slim hope that she’d get away with it. “A few million. Half is Esteban’s.”

Ah, that makes more sense. Dan turned the thought over in his mind, examining it from every angle. So he’s been doing his utmost to fuck with my life for a while. Vindictive bastard. “All right, what do you know about Esteban’s murders?”

“You mean assassinations, there’s a difference.” Michele wanted to show how clever she was with the finer points of language, but came across as an airhead instead. The tone of her voice was so irritating it set Dan on edge and her pompous expectation that he should treat her as an intellectual boiled his blood.

“No.” Dan was firm. “I mean murders. You’re right about there being a difference, but you’re wrong to call them assassinations.”

“Well, in any case, I don’t know anything.”

Dan’s patience was stretching thin and he felt the pressure of a ticking clock. He reached inside his coat and drew the Ka-Bar from its sheath. With one fluid arc, he swept an arm through the air and buried the blade an inch into Michele’s hardwood table. The ferocity of the sudden action made Michele recoil. Dan’s white-knuckled fist still gripped the handle and she could see the light dancing along the razor-sharp blade. One side was serrated, designed to cause maximum damage when plunged into someone’s torso.

His voice was level and an even icier chill had settled in his eyes. They’d lost their greenish hue and taken a shade of grey. He flexed his forearm and eased the knife free. “Put your hands back on the table.”

She refused.

“If you don’t want me to gut you like a pig, you’ll put your hands on the damn table before I reach zero: five… four…”

Her hands were back on the table.

“Now, if I shoot you I won’t get much useful information.” A wicked smile twisted his lips. It was mostly bluff, but a malignant shadow in his mind urged him to carry out his threats if she didn’t cooperate. “So if I think you’re lying again I’m going to de-glove one of your fingers. Do you understand me? I’ll cut the flesh off so you can see the bone. It’s therefore in your best interest to convince me you’re telling the truth.” He watched the fear swelling in her face. Okay she’s taken the bait. “Now, once again, we’re going to talk about Esteban’s murders. Where does he take his abductees?”

Michele shook her head and said, “If I knew I’d tell you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.” She vigorously nodded. “I like my fingers.”

He paused briefly to examine her expression before continuing with the questions. “Did you know my wife was murdered?”

She replied reluctantly. “Yes.”

“Did you know by whom?”

Michele nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She thought about that question for a while. “I’m not allowed to divulge company information. All our clients demand strict discretion.” She shrugged. “Besides, who are you? What did it matter to me if you knew or not? There’re plenty of victims in this business, if I went around telling their families what really happened we’d be snowed under with lawsuits in a week.”

Fucking callous don’t you think? Dan hated her with as much passion as he’d loved his wife, which he thought was dangerous. Holding a knife to an object of hatred was a recipe for disaster. “Did you know about the operation against my wife?” The answer to this question would determine whether he considered her life forfeit.

She shook her head. “No, not until afterward.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I only found out when you came for your interview and I read your file. Why would Esteban tell me about every assassination that-”

“Murder.”

“Whatever. Why should he tell me about them? It’s none of my business, I’m the bounty co-ordinator, I have nothing to do with