Dan Simmons - Hardcase

There was a silence. Finally Don Farino stared hard at Leonard Miles. "You traded weapons for drugs with our deadliest enemies?"

"It's a lie." Miles's tone was no longer frightened.

"William." Don Farino, addressed one of the guards. "Charles." To the other man.

The two bodyguards stepped forward and pulled long-barreled.38 revolvers from their shoulder holsters.

"Take Mr. Miles outside and make him talk." The old man sounded very tired. "Then take him somewhere and kill him."

William and Charles stood there, but they did not aim their guns at Leonard Miles. One of the muzzles was pointed at Don Farino and the other at Kurtz.

Leonard Miles had now dropped all of his act of fear and desperation. He showed a particularly nasty grin as he stood between the two guards. "More than one hundred and twenty million dollars," he said in conversational tones. "Right under your nose, old man. Do you think I wouldn't use some of it to buy off everyone on your family payroll?"

Don Farino's head jerked up. Sophia seemed to be meditating. Kurtz sat very still, his palms flat on his thighs.

"William, Charles," said Miles. "Kill the old man and that bastard Kurtz. Here. Now."

Four gunshots roared and the room filled with the stink of cordite and blood.

"Please state the nature of your emergency," said the bored 911 voice.

"There's a madman killing people," said Arlene. She gave the porn shop's address and hung up.

The burned monster was battering the locked door. While the rear door was reinforced by metal, this inner door was just wood. It began to splinter and tear from the hinges as Arlene watched on the small TV monitor.

Arlene grabbed her purse and prepared to run. Which way? Out the back door and she could probably get the Buick unlocked and started before the burned man caught her. Probably.

Through the hidden door into the old parking garage. He wouldn't find the hidden door. Unless he knew about it. Then she would be wandering through an empty parking garage with this creature behind her.

The door shook on its hinges. The cheap lock rattled and gave.

He might be after Joe , thought Arlene. Which means he might come back .

She had only a few seconds before the madman would be in the basement with her. Arlene grabbed her umbrella from beneath the wall rack and smashed both overhead lightbulbs. Now, with the computer monitor off, the only light came from the small lamp at her desk and the flickering black-and-white security monitor.

Arlene ran back to the desk, switched off the lamp, pushed back her chair, and crouched on one knee. The security monitor showed a static-lashed image of the burned and bandaged monster kicking the door off its hinges.

Arlene turned the monitor off. The long room was suddenly a cave, in near absolute darkness.

Oh God, oh God, I should have put the thing on first . Arlene fumbled in the lower right drawer. She found the heavy goggles, but the straps were too complicated to fit in the dark.

The madman was lurching down the steps. She could hear him—heavy breathing, gasping—she could smell him—but she could not see him.

Arlene held the night-vision goggles up to her face and fumbled the switch on. Luckily, she had played a bit with the strange thing during her free time. The motor inside the apparatus hummed slightly—and suddenly she could see the basement glowing in green tire. The madman swung his head in her direction. In this greenish goggle light, his burns and swollen face and hands and sopping bandages were even more terrible He held a long knife in his right hand. The blade seemed to flicker like a beacon in the amplified night-vision goggles.

The creature was sniffing the air as if searching for her. He began lurching in her direction.

Arlene slid her right hand under the desk drawer, found the hammerless.32 Magnum Ruger revolver there, and lifted the weapon. The goggles slipped in her trembling left hand. Suddenly she was blind.

The burned man ran into the low partition running down the middle of the room. He kicked it to splinters and came on.

My perfume. He smells my perfume.

The creature was ten feet away when Arlene squeezed the Ruger's trigger.

Nothing.

Oh, dear God. I forgot to load it!

The burned man crashed into the far side of Arlene's desk. He swung the knife in a wild arc, hitting the computer monitor and sweeping it and stacks of files off the desk with a crash.

Arlene dropped the night-vision goggles and held the useless Ruger up with both hands. Saliva splattered her as the monster began crawling over the desk. It was screaming obscenities. She could hear him, but not see him.

No, I loaded it. The safety! Once a week a mah-jongg at Bernice's and twice a week to the shooting range since Alan had died. Arlene clicked off the safety with her forefinger, found the trigger guard, found the trigger, and fired upward into darkness, toward the heat and stench less than a foot above her. She kept firing until the hammer clicked on empty chambers.

The Dane stepped out of the darkness of the draped alcove. The bodyguards, William and Charles, were both down from the double taps. William was still, but Charles was still twitching. Leonard Miles stood in the middle of the emptiness where the two armed men had been. The lawyer was blinking.

The Dane walked over, looked at the twitching Charles, and fired another bullet into the fallen man's head.

Leonard Miles flinched. The Dane pointed one gloved finger at Miles's empty chair. "Sit, please."

Miles sat.

Kurtz was sitting exactly as he had been—feet flat on the floor, palms down on his thighs. Don Farino was holding his chest, but smiling. Sophia Farino had pulled her legs up onto the chair and folded them under her as if a mouse were in the room.

The Dane was wearing a tan-checked wool topcoat, a Bavarian-style hat, dark-rimmed glasses, but no mustache. He walked around and stood behind and to one side of Don Farino. The semiautomatic 9mm Beretta was not precisely aimed at anyone, but the muzzle pointed in the general direction of Leonard Miles. "Thank you, my friend," said Don Farino. The Dane nodded.

The don turned his heavy gaze on Miles. "Is my daughter involved in this? Was she the one who gave you the orders?"

Miles's lips were white and trembling. Kurtz saw the yellow silk upholstery on the seat of the upright chair darken as the lawyer urinated in his trousers.

" Speak !" exploded Don Farino. The bark was so loud and fierce that even Kurtz jumped a bit.

"She made me do it, Don Farino," babbled Miles. "She threatened me, threatened to kill me, threatened to kill my lover. She—" He fell into silence the instant that Don Farino made an impatient gesture with his fingers.

The don looked at his daughter. "You traded weapons to the Triads, brought these new drugs into the community?"

Sophia looked at him calmly. " Answer me you miserable putana!" screamed the don. His face was mottled red and white. Sophia said nothing.

"I swear to you, Don Farino," Miles babbled, "I didn't want to be involved with this. Sophia was the one who dropped the dime on Stephen. She was the one who ordered Richardson killed. She was—"

Don Farino's gaze never moved from his daughter. "You are the one who turned Stephen in?"

"Sure," Sophia said. "Stevie's a fag and a junkie, Papa. He would have dragged the family down with him."

Don Farino gripped the arms of his wheelchair until his fingers went white. "Sophia… you would have had everything. You would have been my heir."

Sophia threw her head back and laughed easily. "Had everything , Papa? What is everything? The family is a joke. Its power gone. Its people spread to the wind. I would have had nothing . I was only a woman . But I want to be don. "