F Wilson: Fatal Error

Gabe entered, Angelo close behind. Jack paused on the threshold, ostensibly concerned about the legality of all this…

"Are we allowed?"

… while he checked out both sides of the inner doorway.

Clear.

"Yeah," Gabe said. "We're cool."

Jack kept his head down as he stepped into a well-lit stairwell. He didn't bother to look around to check for cameras. He'd work on the assumption they were everywhere. With all the chaos in the terminal, he doubted anyone was watching too closely, if at all. But he'd bet the ranch they were recording.

Keeping a careful watch behind and on all the shadowed recesses along the way, he followed them down a series of flights of stairs. Gabe and Angelo hurried ahead but Jack refused to be rushed. Not that he had much choice. His injured hip complained bitterly about the stairs.

"You're slow as shit, y'know that?" Gabe said from below.

"I'm scared of heights."

"Pussy. I can beat the shit out of you, y'know."

"Maybe."

"Ain't no fuckin' maybe. You suckered me before. Got me from behind. Square on, man to man, I can kick your ass from here to the Bronx. Even with a broken finger I can take you."

As Gabe ranted, Jack sneaked a hand under his sweatshirt to make sure the Glock was loose in its nylon low-back holster. He'd chambered a round after the melee on Randall's Island, and it remained chambered, ready to fire. He had his slapper and his Spyderco Endura in his pockets, and his Kel-Tec backup in its ankle holster.

They kept going down until he was sure they had to be underground.

"Let me know if you spot a Morlock," Jack said.

Angelo glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Never mind."

They reached bottom where a heavy door stood open. A swipe-card reader jutted from the wall next to the frame. No Holmesian deduction needed to figure they'd been here before and prepared the space beyond. With what, he had no clue.

Gabe stopped on the threshold and gestured to the space beyond. A smile rippled his lips.

"Nice and private in here."

Still not sure of how he was going to play this, but getting an idea, Jack too gestured toward the doorway.

"About as private as you can get, from the look of it. Please-you two first."

As they stepped through, Jack grabbed the door and slammed it shut behind them. He wasn't sure how he was going to keep it closed, but that question became moot when he saw the big knife in the hand of the man who had been hiding behind the door. The only spot Jack hadn't been able-or had time-to check.

He leaped toward Jack, slashing with the eight-inch blade just as the door reopened and Gabe and Angelo came charging out.

Jack backpedaled, reaching behind him, but his hip slowed him and they were on him before he could grab the Glock. Gabe and Angelo each grabbed an arm while the newcomer held the point of his bowie knife's big, beveled blade against Jack's throat. The overhead fluorescents reflected off both the blade and his shaven skull.

"Real clown, this guy."

Jack didn't dare struggle too much. A heavy blade like that could open his throat with a flick of the wrist. He felt a little sweat gather in his armpits. He'd expected Jake to be waiting inside.

Okay, options-options-options. What did he have?

First off, play cool or scared? Cool might work better with these guys.

"You must be Jake," he said.

The guy's features went slack for a second as he glanced at Gabe. "How the fuck he know-?"

"Who gives a shit!" Gabe tugged Jack's arm and started him moving toward the doorway. "Get him inside!"

"I don't like him knowing my name, man."

"Fuhgeddaboudit. It ain't gonna matter."

That didn't sound good.

As they hauled him into the room, Jack put up enough of a struggle to work his hands behind his back. Jake closed the door, then took Jack's right arm and transferred the knife to Gabe. They slammed Jack back against the wall, but he managed to keep his hands behind him. They each hooked a leg around one of his, preventing any kicks on Jack's part. Seemed like they'd done this before.

"This isn't fair," he said.

"Ay, it's as fair as fair can be. I got a knife and you don't."

Jack lowered his head. "I guess I didn't plan well enough."

"I guess you didn't."

"Yeah, you know the old saying: If you find yourself in a fair fight it means you didn't plan well enough."

Gabe grinned. "Hey, I like that. And it looks like you didn't plan for shit." He twisted the blade back and forth. "Now it's playtime."

Jack writhed, as if trying to get as far as possible from the blade-which wasn't such a bad idea-but the move allowed him to slip his hand under his sweatshirt and find the grip of the Glock.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin 'bout you talkin big upstairs, talkin 'bout rippin off my ear and givin it to Angelo. Well, guess what? Guess who's gonna lose an ear? Maybe two?"

"Aw, you don't want to do that."

"That's just starters, asshole. The real fun will be when I gut you."

"G-gut me?"

Jack inched the Glock free of its holster as the tip of the bowie approached his abdomen.

"Yeah. Gonna slice you open and let your guts fall out."

Angelo laughed. "Yeah, like sausages."

Jake twisted his arm. "Maybe we'll feed you some. Like hot dogs."

Angelo guffawed. "Aw, man, we forgot the fuckin' rolls!"

This got laughs all around.

"B-b-but I'll die!"

"No shit!" Gabe shouted. "You're one smart asshole!"

More laughs. They all seemed to be getting a big kick out of this.

"Y-you can't get away with it! The security cameras! It'll all b-b-be on tape! They'll catch you!"

Gabe kept smiling. "All you need is a broom handle to tip them so they don't see nothin'."

Jack slipped his finger over the Glock's trigger. No safety to worry about. Ready. Just needed to know one more thing.

"S-someone will hear!"

He laughed. "Not you, asshole, 'cause you won't have no ears. And besides, nobody up there can hear nothin' down here."

Just what he needed to hear.

"That's a relief."

Gabe gave him a puzzled look. "Wha-?"

"You didn't plan well enough."

He twisted to clear his right forearm, raised the Glock to hip level, and shot Gabe in the belly. The report was deafening in the small space. Angelo loosened his grip as he jumped and screamed like a girl, giving Jack a chance for a cross-body shot into his chest. Jake jumped on him and tried to take him down. Jack switched hands, slipped the pistol between his arm and his flank, and fired. Jake tumbled off, staggered back against the wall, and left a trail of blood as he slid to the floor.

Jack whirled and found Gabe on his side, hands clutched over his abdomen, kicking his legs as he made agonized, grunting noises. He'd taken a hardball round to the gut. Looked like it had exited via his back. Same with Jake, but his bullet must have hit something vital on its trip through his chest, because his wide, unblinking eyes said he was gone. As was Angelo. The second round in Jack's magazine tended to be a hollowpoint or a pre-frag. He'd used Hydra-Shoks this time. Not much useful left inside Angelo's rib cage.

He stepped over to Gabe and kicked the knife away. The guy's attention was centered on the pain in his belly, but why take a chance?

"… hurts…" he grunted.

"So I've heard," Jack said. "But probably not as much as being gutted by a bowie knife."

Another grunt that sounded like "… doctor…"

"Don't think so."

"… please…"

Jack rolled Gabe onto his back and pressed the muzzle of the Glock against his chest.

His eyes widened. "No!"

"You made a mistake. You thought you'd brought me into your world, but you wound up in mine. You threatened Gia and put your hands on her. You don't do that in my world. At the moment, life holds too many threats to me and mine that I can't seem to do anything about. You, I'm afraid, have the misfortune of being one that I can."