12-Stone Cold

12

Stone Cold

Maggie wasn’t waiting around to see if Creegan could put Patty down or not.  As far as she was concerned, it was over and with better results than she could have hoped for. Both the flash drive and the money were in her position.  She just had to get out of this building and she was set.  She could finally move on with her…

Her train of though and her smile vanished into thin air as she turned the corner at the end of the hallway and found herself staring down the barrel of a gigantic revolver.  On the passive end of the gun was the grinning face of madness staring at her from under his fedora.

Rockwell.

“The bag bitch,” Rockwell said, pulling the hammer back on the large gun.

Stone seemed to materialize behind her, a Glock in his right hand.  “Hands in the air!”

Maggie frowned as she slowly raised her hands.  Her brain went into overdrive as she tried to figure a way out of this.  “Just hold on guys.  I know we don’t have good history…”

“Good history?” Rockwell scuffed.  “Bitch, I got a limp.”

Stone grabbed the heavy bag with his left hand and pulled it off her shoulder and put it on his own.  Maggie felt emptiness, as he did so.

“You don’t have anything left to offer,” Stone said from behind her.

Rockwell wiggled his eyebrows in excitement.  “And that means I get to make a canoe out of your head… then your boyfriend’s.  Finally!” Rockwell said as he pressed the cold barrel to her head.

Maggie’s brain settled on a long shot. “The flash drive!”

Rockwell raised his eyebrow.  “The what?”

“The flash drive, I have the flash drive!”  she said, probably louder than she need to.

Stone moved around to Rockwell’s right side.  “Bullshit, you traded it for the money.”

Maggie shook her head.  “There are Cleaners headed into the building.  Patty saw them while we were making the exchange, so I grabbed the money and bolted.  I still have the flash drive.”

Stone and Rockwell seemed to consider this.  Maggie began to get her confidence back.  “And who said Creegan was my partner?  I don’t see him around anywhere.  Maybe your duo needs a woman’s touch?”

Stone shrugged.  “We need to get the flash drive back for The Muppet anyway.”

Maggie shook her head.  “You're going to give it to him?  You boys think too small.”

Rockwell lowered the gun.  “Explain.”

Maggie smiled.  “My pleasure.  Whoever owns the drive, owns The Muppet.”

Rockwell and Stone realized what she was saying and seemed to consider this.  It was going to work.  Maggie was going to get out of this alive, and with two brand new soldiers who, most likely, could get her out of here alive.

Stone and Rockwell turned back to her.  T hey both raised their guns.

“No deal.” Stone said, calmly.

Maggie’s face dropped.  “What?!  Why?!”

Rockwell grinned, “Well that’s simple.  You’re a lying bitch and we don’t trust you. Unlike Creegan, we have no love for your lady parts.”

“We also prefer the field work.”  Stone said, calmly.

Maggie shook her head accepting it.  “You have just got to be kidding me.”

That was when Rockwell caught the movement out of his right eye.  He spun toward the hallway junction to their right, seeing the big guy in the suit with the MP-5, just in time.  He spun and fired the giant gun twice in rapid succession.  Both bullets caught the guy in the chest and he staggered backwards, his figure depressing the trigger in a last, desperate effort to kill the thing which was killing him.  The gun fired, one deadly burst sweeping through the hallway.

Stone yelled in pain as a bullet found its way into the right side of his pelvis just above the thigh.  The bullet shattered his hip bone.  Stone’s source of balance and stability failed and he tumbled backwards, bringing his gun up as he fell.

Maggie turned and ran, disappearing back down the hallway.

The man who Rockwell shot, hit the ground.  Dead.  Another suit peeked around the corner and Stone began pulling the trigger.  Chunks of the wall were dislodged by the shots.  The suit ducked back around the corner and Rockwell grabbed Stone by the hand, bringing him back to his feet and supporting him with his shoulder.

Rockwell began to help Stone stumble back the way they came in the opposite direction of Maggie.  The suit wild fired the MP-5 around the corner but the bullets hit the wall and roof meaninglessly.  The action was only to give him cover to get to his downed partner.

****

Kenneth ducked back around the corner just in time to avoid the cover fire from the two down the hall.  He had gotten only a glimpse of the situation, but it was all he needed. His man was down and probably dead.  The two had a giant hockey bag, which was probably the money.  They found the secondary target.

He put the gun around the corner and blind fired in order to give himself cover to peek around the corner again.  The two were gone.  They would be retreating.  One of them was wounded.  His other four men stood behind him with guns at the ready.  He gave a hand gesture to move with him around the corner and they did.

Kenneth stepped over the body of his man.  One of the suits behind him asked quietly, “Sir, what about Burt?”

Burt was the one on the ground.  “Make sure he’s dead, more for the guys who don’t fuck up.”

The man shrugged then popped a single shot into Burt’s forehead

Kenneth led his team around the corner.  The hunt was on.

****

Maggie was a lot of things, most of them very bad.  She was not stupid, however.  While Creegan had slept, she had walked through the hospital and mentally mapped it out in her head.  She knew how to move and where everything was, which gave her a leg up on everyone else in the building.

Everyone who was trying to kill her.

She was not ready to give up on her money.  She had come too far to just walk away. Instead, she kept low and moved, room by room, alongside Rockwell and Stone without them knowing.  It wasn’t hard since Stone’s leg seemed useless and it took everything Rockwell had to keep him standing while carrying the bag and watching for the team of Cleaners who followed behind.

The duo zigged and zagged a couple of times and she had to make a risky crossing of the main hallway.  She did it, just in time, as she watched the five man team come around the far corner.  All were moving at a crouch, guns at the ready.

Rockwell and Stone were out of their league.

Maggie had to watch and wait.

She would get an opportunity.

She would take it.

****

“Alirght, head through those doors!”  Stone yelled at Rockwell, through gritted teeth.

Rockwell shook his head, “Can’t stop, we won’t make it!”

Stone shook his head. “We aren’t going to make it!  Now, go into that room!”

Rockwell frowned and veered through the doors.

“Alright, now put me against that wall.”  Stone gave the order.

Rockwell frowned.  “Stone, we have to-”

Stone cut him off.  “Just do it!”

Rockwell did what he was told.  Stone adjusted, leaning his back against the wall.  “Now kick over all these beds and make them face the door we came through.  And hurry.”

Stone said this as he pulled the Walther out of his back holster and set it in his lap.  He then did the same with the Derringer, and then checked his ammo in the Glock. Seven shots till empty.  Rockwell shoved over the beds one by one, each making a crashing noise.

“We are taking a stand, huh?  I like that.”  Rockwell said and smiled.

“No,” Stone replied.  “I am.  You’re going to go to the car and get Bess.”

Rockwell’s frown turned to a smile.  “You said I couldn’t use her no more.”

Stone nodded and smiled.  “I let you keep her, didn’t I?”

Rockwell nodded, “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Stone shook his head.  “Take the money with you, moron!”

Rockwell shook his head as he sprinted out the back entrance to the room.  “No way, there would be no reason to come back then.

“Asshole.” Stone said, now only talking to himself.

****

Maggie had already crawled in the front entrance to the large curtained examining room.  None of the curtains were drawn, but after Rockwell had overturned all the beds, it was easy to find a corner and become unseen.  Not to mention, the lights were off and, although it was still daylight, the room was toward the center of the hospital.  This cast shadows everywhere.

She had heard the end of Rockwell and Stone conversation and shivered.  If there was anything in the world she would rather not see again it was Bess.  She sincerely hoped this was all over by then and she was out of here with her money, or at least her life.

As it was, she was rooting for Stone.  In his condition, he would be the easier one to take the money away from, as long as she could do it before Rockwell returned…

…with Bess.

****

Kenneth and his men arrived at the room and stopped at the sliding door, peeking in.  He saw all of the beds knocked over and knew that Rockwell and Stone were set up in the room for a showdown.  They were expecting the Kenneth and team to move in through the front and sweep the room.  At which point, they would attack Kenneth’s team from behind the beds or out of the shadows.

Amateurs.

Kenneth motioned to his four subordinates, to have them move in through the front and sweep forward, two to each side of the room.  He decided to move around to the back and would take Rockwell and Stone from the flank when they sprung the trap.

Kenneth would kill both the marks and get the money.  Most likely, a couple more of his men would die, making his take even bigger than he had anticipated.

It was a good day.

****

Stone heard them come through the sliding glass door.  It made a swishing noise as the air adjusted.  Stone had pulled himself directly behind one of the tables and was lying on his back.  The Glock was in his right hand and he held the Walther in his left.

He remembered Baghdad and his Army days; hiding behind a dinner table so he could get close enough to his mark to cut his throat.  Knowing then, that he had a talent and that talent was the planning and execution of the murder of other human beings.

If only he could have been an artist.

He peeked around the table, lying completely motionless as The Cleaners moved through the room, two on either side, cautiously checking behind each bed, guns at the ready.  They were professionals.

Stone would have to be fast.

Stone would have to be faster than he had ever been before.

The two on his side moved over the bed in front of him, and he knew it was time.

Stone took a big breath then exhaled, clearing his mind and steadying his hand.

He then sat up, fluidly bringing the Glock up on his targets, deciding which one of them would be faster.  He saw recognition in the one man’s eyes in the millisecond that it took him to pull the trigger.

Stone fired three quick shots into his center mass and the man went limp.

The other went to bring his gun up but Stone swept his arm to the right, making the pinpoint adjustment, emptying the clip into the man’s chest.  The second reared back and stumbled over the bed, crashing to the floor.  His MP-5 made a short burst into the ceiling.  The slide on the Glock locked into the reload position and Stone swept his body around.

He had to be faster than ever before…

Stone brought up the Walther with his left and aimed down the sights, firing twice at the first man.  He immediately corrected his arm to point at his final target.  No time to make sure that he even dropped the first, he pulled the trigger desperately as the tension had built in his chest.  He had to make sure.

The gun went empty.

Both men were dead.

Stone sighed in relief.

He dropped the pistols and he grabbed the bed and pulled himself to his one good foot, gripping only the Derringer in his hand.  He had just killed four men in half a second, while wounded.

Damn, he was good.

He heard three shots from behind him.

The bullets hit Stone in the back and he crashed to the floor, stumbling over the bed that had been his lifeline.  The Derringer dropped from his hand and hit the floor, sliding into the shadows.

Stone hurt everywhere.  Blood was free-flowing out of his body.  He had just painted his masterpiece, only to die directly after.  He frowned at the realization and became frustrated.

He heard his unseen attacker laugh as the suit walked around the bed, standing taller, machine gun clutched loosely in one hand.  He looked down at Stone and smiled, “Damn, man.  That was some shooting.  I don’t even think I could shoot that well.  Too bad I had to shoot you.”

Kenneth looked down and brought the gun up.  “I should thank you.  You just made me a lot of money.”

Stone closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

It never came.

Inside, he heard his Derringer go off three times and opened his eyes to watch the surprised look on Kenneth’s face as he staggered backward, blood coloring his white undershirt.

Finally, he fell to the ground.  Dead.

This made Stone happy.

It also worried him.

He heard the foot steps behind him and Maggie walked past.  His Derringer was in her hand.  She walked to the bag of money and picked it up, slinging it over her shoulder.

She then looked at Stone and cocked her head to one side, curiously.

Maggie then walked over to Stone and pointed the gun at his head.

“Like I said, Stone, you think too small.”

One final shot rang out.

11-High Noon

11

High Noon

“Mother-fucking TWICE!”  Rockwell was screaming at the top of his lungs from the back seat of the Grand Marquis.

“Rockwell, give it a rest ,will you?”  Stone said back to Rockwell as he drove with one hand, the other holding a Kleenex over his bleeding nose.

Rockwell, as expected, ignored his partner.  “What the fuck is going on?  How does some shit, ex-football dick get the better of us?  TWICE?!”

“Luck.  It was dumb luck.” Stone replied out of deep, frustrated anger.

“He shot me in the foot!” Rockwell hollered.  “With my own, fucking gun!”

Stone’s phone rang. “Shut up now.  It’s The Muppet.”

Rockwell got quiet and leaned over the back seat to listen as Stone answered.  “Stone.”

“New plan, I have negotiated a hand off at Noon tomorrow.  I’m going to be handing off the money to the currier in a couple of hours.  The meeting is at some unfinished hospital.  I want you two to show up and bring me back the money and that fucking flash drive.” Elmo Kincaid’s voice was hard with a hint of desperation.

Stone heard it, “So, why should we bring all that money back to you?”

Stone heard the anger on the other end.  “Are you serious?  You’re going to fuck with me right now?”

Stone managed a grin.  “Seems like the best time.”

There was a sigh of acceptance on the other end.  “Alright, you each get ten percent of the money you recover, which is half a million.  I’ll consider you both in, again.”

“So we get the best jobs?”  Stone confirmed.

“Yes, yes, you crazy mother fuckers.  Now get me my shit back!”  Elmo yelled into the phone.

 Stone nodded and Rockwell did a mock fist-pump.  “Deal.  What’s the address?”

****

Creegan watched out the front widow next to Maggie.  They were standing in a second floor waiting room.  A large four pane window facing the front of the building was where they watched.  Luckily, the glass was tinted, so anyone on the outside wouldn’t be able to see them.

Creegan checked the time on the wall.  It was 11:54.  “You told them to enter through the front, right?”

Maggie didn’t look over at Creegan.  “I told Elmo to have the courier walk straight down the middle of the front parking lot and through the front door, buts let’s face it Creegan, if they wanted to come in the back, who’s going to stop them?”

Creegan was silent, she was right, after all.  There were only two of them.  If Elmo decided to send an army, they would be cooked.  Creegan and Maggie would have to rely on the fear of the unknown.  If Kincaid knew it was just the two of them with the flash drive and no backup plan it would be a cinch for him to finish this relatively cheap.  But Elmo didn’t know.  He didn’t know who really had the drive or were it was.  He had no idea how many people were working with Maggie.  He knew, literally nothing.

He has to play this conservatively.

Creegan reassured himself, but somewhere deep inside Creegan knew there were going to be surprises.  When it came to Maggie, nothing was easy.

Another three minutes ticked off the clock.  Creegan had just begun to get nervous when he saw her, a squat, hard looking red head in a leather jacket.  She walked to the edge of the parking lot with a hockey bag slung over her shoulder.

“There.”  Creegan said and pointed.

Maggie shook her head, “Kinda hard to miss her, don’t you think?”

The woman dropped the bag then pulled up her jacket and shirt as high as her sports bra and began to slowly rotate.  “What’s she doing?” Maggie asked.

“Showing us she’s unarmed.”  Creegan replied.

After the red head had done one full circle, she re-hoisted the duffle and began to walk across the lot toward the entrance.

****

Rockwell and Stone waited, a couple of rooms down.  They had swung over to Rockwell’s place and patched up his foot as well as picked up some supplies.  Having snuck into the back entrance of the hospital a couple of hours ago, they decided to wait to make their move until both the money and the flash drive were in the open.

“The courier’s here.  It’s the Irish woman.”  Stone said, watching the red head come up an escalator and meet Creegan and Maggie at the top.

“Bet she’d be a great lay,” Rockwell said absently.  “That or her vagina would bite your dick off.”

Stone turned and frowned at him.  “Get your head in the game.  It’s almost time.”

Stone backed away and began to check each of his four guns; two Glocks in shoulder holsters under his coat, one Walther PPK in a belt holster on his backside and a Derringer in a boot holster.  Rockwell checked his big .357 and then belted a bunch of speed loader’s to his right thigh.

“So we have to get the flash drive and the money, right?”  Rockwell asked.

“Yep, and take out Creegan and Maggie.” Stone replied

“That’s a fucking given,” Rockwell said motioning to his foot.  “But that still leaves the question of the Irish woman?”

Stone racked the slide on his automatic and looked at Rockwell.  “Looks like the luck of the Irish just ran out.”

Rockwell raised an eyebrow then started laughing.

Stone frowned, “What?!

 “Have you been waiting you whole life to say that one?”

Stone’s frown became a scowl.  “Fuck you.”

****

The three of them moved slowly back into the waiting room, Creegan and Patty’s eyes locked on each other as they moved.  Once inside the room, there was a long silence.

“Where’s the flash drive?” Patty took time to try to control her accent.

“Where’s the money?”  Maggie quickly replied.

Patty raised an eyebrow, then looked slowly at the bag, then back to Maggie.  “How many Irish women do you know that play hockey?”  Patty’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Maggie’s face scrunched. “I meant, let me see it.”

Patty eyed Creegan who had taken a stance to the left, between the two women.

Patty suddenly dropped the bag on the waiting room table and unzipped the top.  As the zipper peeled away revealing the contents, Maggie’s face lit up.  All of her thirty two teeth showed as she moved in for a closer look.  Stacks of hundred dollar bills lined the inside.  Maggie instinctively reached inside and Patty lashed out, grabbing her wrist. Creegan snapped to attention but didn’t make a move.

“The flash drive.” Patty said sternly.

Maggie nodded, her eyes going back to the money.  “Okay.”

Maggie stepped back and began to bend down to reach.  “It’s in my shoe.”

Patty watched as she slipped her hands into her pockets and into the brass knuckles that made her job possible.  If something was going to happen is would be-

“What the fuck?”  Patty looked outside the window and saw the van in the parking lot.  She also saw the twelve, heavily armed suits getting out.

Creegan became confused, “A duck?  Where?”  He turned and looked out the window.  “What the fuck?”

Creegan turned back around just in time to see the flash of metal.

****

“Well, that was simple enough,” Barbie noted as she watched through the window as the red head walked through the front door of the hospital.

 Kenneth nodded from the driver’s side.

“Lock and load, boys,” Barbie said as she pulled out a Glock while everyone else picked up MP-5’s.  They were nasty, little fully-automatic machine guns with banana clips.

The clicking and clacking of pre gun battle filled the car and Kenneth took the van into the parking lot.  Barbie turned around, “Kenneth use five of them and you boys take the back. The other five of you come with me into the front.  Our primary is the flash drive on the dark haired woman, secondary is the hockey bag of money on the Irish woman.”

All of the men nodded or answered.

Barbie opened the door as Kenneth brought the van to a stop.  “No prisoners.  No witnesses.”

****

Creegan was completely taken off guard by Patty’s right hook.  The blow, complimented by the brass knuckles, sent a shockwave through Creegan’s whole body.  Creegan spun on his heels like some kind of Looney Toon and hit the floor.  The world circled Creegan and he struggled to maintain consciousness.

Maggie watched shocked, as Creegan hit the floor.  One punch had seemed to end it.  She turned back toward Patty with utter fear in her eyes.  Patty slowly stepped onto the table, then down in front of Maggie.

“One more time, before I get rough.  I want to flash drive.”  Patty’s voice was full of intent.

Maggie’s eye’s narrowed.  “Look we can work together, you and I.  Lets walk out of here with the money and the flash drive, split it in-”

Patty grabbed Maggie’s hair and pulled her head back.  Maggie screamed in pain and shock.  “None of that, woman-to-woman, sister shit, girly.  I want the drive.”

Suddenly, a hand gripped Patty’s arm and pulled it away from Maggie’s hair.  Creegan was standing in front of Patty with fire in his eyes and blood from his lip.  They stared at each other and Patty tore her arm away as the two stared at each other.  There was an understanding of what was going to happen next.

Maggie looked back and forth between the two, realizing that some kind of silly warriors understanding was occurring.  She wasn’t going to wait.  She grabbed the bag of money and slung it over her shoulder.

“Don’t get too attached, lass.  I’ll be gettin’ that back once I’m done here.”  Patty said to Maggie without turning from Creegan.

Maggie didn’t respond as she ran out of the room.  There was another second and the clock on the wall switched to 12:01.  Patty and Creegan advanced, Patty throwing the first jab with her right .  Creegan tried to avoid it, but it still glanced off his jaw, and the brass knuckles made it sting more than it should have.

Creegan’s jaw had been tempered from years of abuse and he moved through the blow without blinking and delivered a brutal right forearm blow to the side of Maggie’s head.  She staggered backward into an end table.  Creegan wasted no time moving in and cocking his arm back for a killer left cross.

Patty knew that Creegan would have the power advantage.  A good blow from Creegan might end her.  She straight punched the top of Creegan’s left thigh full force.  The knuckles digging in.  The blow made Creegan yowl and stagger backwards as the muscles in his legs reacted to the blow and cramped up.

Patty pushed forward to capitalize.  As Creegan bent over and grabbed his leg, Patty brought a big left hand in a downward arc.  Creegan managed to get his hand up and stop the punch.  Patty was ready for the block and shifted her feet bringing a right uppercut.  The blow caught Creegan flush on the nose.  Patty felt it break.

Creegan grunted and retreated, falling backward over the middle table to the other side.  Blood began to flow, freely from his nose.  Creegan rolled backward again, after hitting the ground trying to gain some distance between himself and the Valkyrie that was assailing him.

She stepped over the table, again on the offensive but as she stepped down Creegan saw an opening and took it, shooting in, like an amateur wrestler, and grabbing her around the waist.  She began raining hammer fists down on his back.  The blows hurt, but not enough to make Creegan let go.  Creegan roared and picked Patty off her feet and rushed her backward getting three or four steps of speed before crashing her back first into the dry wall.  It cratered and broke around her as she was imbedded in the wall.

Creegan felt her rib crack under the pressure of his big shoulder.  He was on an adrenaline rage and began to mercilessly uppercut Patty’s damaged ribs.  She wailed in pain with each of the violent blows.  She knew she had to do something as the pain was blinding.  Anymore of this and she would lose the ability to stand.  Suddenly, she remembered the blood from Creegan’s shoulder when he and Patty had fled his apartment.

Patty roared like a feral dog and cocked her right hand back, striking Creegan’s shoulder and the bullet wound with all the force she had.  Creegan screamed in pain and Patty wound up and struck the same spot.  Creegan took one step back, then brought his whole body into a straight punch.

Patty, however, saw it coming a mile away and ducked.  Creegan’s hand struck the wall with full force.  He felt his hand shatter as the connection was made.  Creegan screamed in pain and Patty moved in, bringing a huge upper cutting left to Creegan’s abdomen followed by a right hand to the chops.

Creegan lost his breath, then almost went out as Patty’s hook connected to his temple. His knees went weak as he staggered, Patty limped in and Creegan’s desperation kicked in, he stepped forward and caught her boob with a left-hook.

“MOTHER FUCKER!”  Patty yelled in pain as she staggered backward and stumbled over a chair, onto the ground.

Creegan went to one knee.  The blood was running down his left arm from the reopened bullet wound.  His right hand throbbed, his nose leaked blood and his left eye was swelling shut from Patty’s first blow.  He was having a hard time breathing with the damage done to his nose and literally everything on his body hurt.  He saw Patty pulling herself to her feet on the other side of the chair.

“You have got to be kidding me.”  Creegan mumbled through the blood dripping from his chin.

Patty brought herself to her feet, somehow.  It hurt to put any weight on her left foot.  She had at least two broken ribs, maybe more.  Her left eye was beginning to blacken and shockwaves of pain ran through her body from her chest.  She had never fought like this.  She had never had to.

Creegan stood, slowly, and limped forward, his hands coming back up into a lazy guard. Patty took slow, painful steps toward Creegan, her hands coming up.

Last round.  They heard the bell.

Creegan threw a lazy haymaker, trying to make something happen while seeing double.  Maggie ducked the blow and threw a long jab into Creegan’s mid section.  Creegan visibly felt the blow and Patty stepped in, jabbing him in the mouth again.  Creegan felt his lip break open, deeper.  He staggered and fell to one knee.

Patty cocked her right back for one more final punch.

This would end it.

Creegan pulled himself together.  In the seconds before the blow, he somehow scoured the remains of his energy and pulled it all into one last move, knowing this blow would put him out.  As Patty launched her punch, he rose.  Using his left to stop the punch, he snaked it around her arm and caught her wrist in his under arm.  Creegan then brought his right hand up and locked it with the left.  He then locked his forearm against Patty’s elbow on the wrong side.

Creegan then flexed with everything he had, pulling up on the arm.  Patty’s elbow was forced inwards and up.

A loud and audible pop could be heard throughout the room.

Maggie screamed as her elbow popped.

Creegan maintained his grip of her arm with his left and pulled her in closer.  He then brought his right forearm into her face.

Then, again….

          …Then, again….

                    …Then, again…..

He broke her nose and busted her lip, her left eye almost totally closed and purple now, Creegan lost track of how many times he hit her.  He was working on instinct, now.  He suddenly bent over and picked her up onto his shoulder, then dumped her off, sending her crashing into, and through, the waiting room table.

Wood splintered as she crashed down.  Creegan fell into a kneeling position above her head, then raised his hand and cocked his fist back to strike when Patty’s hand came up loosely.  At first glance, it looked like she was trying to protect herself but Creegan knew better.

She had conceded.

He relaxed his fist and then his body and fell backward to the floor.  The fight had been mere seconds but it had felt like an eternity.  His whole body screamed at him.  It begged him to remain on the floor but he couldn’t.

Slowly, Creegan picked himself up.

Patty’s hand had dropped and now she just lay there breathing.

Creegan dragged himself toward an exit as the sounds of gunfire sounded through the hospital.

It was never simple.

He had a job to finish.

10-The Setup

10

The Setup

Patty watched the two stumble out of the front of the apartment complex and down the street.  She had not been present for everything that had happened inside, whatever that may have been.  She frowned as Creegan stumbled down the street with Maggie.  Patty could tell from here that he was hurt.  This meant that Rockwell and Stone had been here for them.

Elmo had double booked.

If Patty had been any earlier she would have been unwittingly involved in that gunfight inside.  She might be hurt or even dead.  She growled to herself alone in the dark, angry and surprised.  Patty had thought better of The Muppet.

The sirens in the distance heralded the arrival of the police.  She watched as Rockwell and Stone came out the front, Stone helping and limping badly.  Rockwell was screaming at the top of his lungs.  “TWICE!  THAT’S FUCKING TWICE!”

Patty ignored them and instead began to follow the two unlikely survivors down the street.  It would be easy now.  With Creegan wounded the way he was, she could take them when they stopped moving and-.

Her phone rang.

Patty ducked back into the shadows as Creegan turned suspiciously.  She grabbed the phone out of her pocket and answered it without looking at the caller.  “Yeah?”

“It’s off.  We need to meet.” It was Elmo on the line.

Patty debated telling him to shove-it, with some choice words; she debated telling him that she knew he had double booked this job. “Why?”

“This has gone too far.”  Elmo’s words were stressed and hurried.  “I need it to be over and I need that thumb drive back.  Now!”

 “You’re going to pay them?”  Even with Patty’s hard Irish accent, Elmo could tell she was shocked.

“I’ll double your fee to make the hand off.  No questions.”  Elmo pressed ahead, irritated.

Patty took a second to count the money in her head.  “Deal.”

****

The cleaning crew sat in a large industrial sized van outside the large residence of Elmo Kincaid, also known as ‘The Muppet’.  Eight men in the surrounded by guns, ammunition, and sophisticated listening equipment sat in the back.  The front cab was occupied by the driver, another large man and Barbie in the passenger seat.

They were all dressed like Secret Service Agents.

Barbie had propped her foot onto the dashboard of the van, her shoe off, and was painting her toe nails a bright hot pink.  The driver watched with utter fascination as she went about the mundane task.

“I must note,” Barbie began talking suddenly out of nowhere without actually looking away from the task at hand, “that you have been watching me for some time, Kenneth. This brings up questions as to why.”

Kenneth seemed to think about answering her question, then shook his head, “It’s nothing.”

Barbie finished with her big toe, dipped the miniature brush into the paint and began the next toe.  “Now Kenneth, don’t be ridiculous, this is our fourth job together and its time we establish a repertoire.  This can only be done by conversation and inquires about one another.  You have been staring for some time and I would like to know why.  How are we ever to trust each other if we can’t speak what’s on our mind?”

Kenneth rethought his position then decided to share.  “Well, back in the bathroom, with the mark, you told him your name was Barbie and that you liked to break stereotypes, which I get, because you’re a hot blonde but instead of being a moron you are a bad ass.”

“Thank you Kenneth those are sweet things to say.”  Barbie said with a genuine smile.

“No problem,” Kenneth began again.  “But what I don’t get is, since we have been sitting in this van you have been sitting there painting your toe nails.  And hot pink, no less.  Needless to say, I am confused because not only is the mere act of painting one’s nails girly but you have picked the daintiest of colors to use.”

“I see your dilemma, Kenneth,” Barbie said, after Kenneth finished.  “You are confused because to do such a thing is not only contradictory to my previous statements with our late friend Samuel, they are borderline hypocritical.”

Kenneth nodded, awaiting the expected explanation.

Barbie dipped the small brush into the bottle again and began to do her last toe.  The pinky.  She did it carefully then smiled at her work, putting the brush back into the bottle and screwing it closed.  The whole time she did this, Kenneth was staring, still waiting for an answer.

Finally, she leaned back and looked at Kenneth.  “Mind your own fucking business, Ken.”

Kenneth frowned and leaned back.  One of the men from the back poked his head up into the cab and looked at Barbie.  “We got something.  Elmo really has lost the flash drive.  He’s paying off the thief tomorrow to get it back.

Barbie smiled, “Splendid. We will follow him to the bag man, then follow the bag man to the exchange.  Then we will kill everyone and take the money and the flash drive.  The money, we keep, it will be a bonus.”

****

The hospital had been finished last week and they had begun to move beds and larger equipment in.  Creegan had no problem breaking in.  It was a perfect place for the two of them to hide until whatever was going to happen, happened.

“How did you know about this place?”  Maggie asked, as they moved through the halls of the large empty building.

Creegan turned a corner into the future emergency room and began to look for something to help him with his wound.  “I know a guy on the construction crew and he visits the bar I used to bounce for.”

Creegan was now tearing desperately through doors and shelves.  Maggie suddenly took his arm to calm him.  “Stop it, you’re making it worse.  Let me take a look at that.”

Creegan whipped away pulling his arm away from her, “I can’t make it any worse than YOU!”

Maggie scrunched up her face, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Creegan took a deep breath.  “I have had enough of this, Maggie.  I have been shot, I have broken my right hand, lost a tooth to a psycho who loves salad and I don’t know why.”

Maggie frowned.  “Look, I’m paying you.  No questions asked.”

Creegan nodded clenching his jaw.  “You’re right, I quit.  Good luck with Rockwell and Stone and whoever the hell else is after you.”

Creegan began to walk out, but Maggie grabbed his arm.  “Wait!”

Creegan stopped and turned towards her, she finally gave in.  “Alright, I’ll tell you.  Just sit down and let me look at your arm.”

Creegan sat down on an examining table and took off his shirt.  Maggie took some rubbing alcohol to clean the wound.  Creegan grunted in pain.  Creegan had been lucky, the bullet had gone straight through and the wound was already closing.  Maggie began to do a bandage and began to spill the beans.

“I stole something.  Me and a friend of mine,” she began, choosing the word ‘friend’ carefully.

Creegan raised an eyebrow.  “A friend, like me?”

Maggie grinned, “Not like you, no one’s quite like you.”

Creegan ignored the compliment.  “What did you take?”

“A flash drive,” she said and Creegan frowned.

“This is all over a flash drive?” Creegan asked, confused.

Maggie smiled, “Not just any flash drive.  You know who Elmo Kincaid is?”

Creegan nodded, “Of course.  The Muppet controls all of northeastern Ohio.”

Maggie continued.  “Of course, but do you know how he controls it?”

Creegan shook his head and Maggie elaborated.  “Elmo used to work for the Rodriguez
Brothers.  You know you they are?”

Creegan shook his head again.  Maggie nodded and continued, “The Rodriguez Brothers run an international drug cartel and they supply to most of the eastern seaboard.  Cleveland is as far west as they go.  Most of the drugs coming into this end of The States comes from them.  Elmo used to work for them, he was a top Bag Man, did it all; smuggling, murder, extortion, anything the Brothers needed.  He was their man but he wasn’t stupid…”

Maggie finished with the bandage using a piece of tape from a drawer to hold it together.  “Elmo knew the business, and knew that every hired gun outlives their usefulness, and then gets themselves killed.  Kincaid set himself up with a retirement fund.  He recorded every major criminal activity the Brothers had him do.  He has pictures, audio, video tape, documents, about 1 GB of damnable evidence on the Brothers.  He then tells them about it and demands they give him Northeastern Ohio.  He also tells them they have to give him bottom line prices on the drugs they move in.”

Jim shook his head.  “Why didn’t they just kill him?”

Maggie nodded, “Oh they tried, they sent a couple of cleaner teams after Elmo, but the Muppet sent them all back in a box.  It became cheaper for the Brothers to just take the hit on the drugs then keep sending people in to die.”

Creegan’s overtired brain caught up with Maggie.  “So you have that  flash drive?!”

Maggie nodded.

“How?” Creegan asked his eyes narrowing on his crafty ex.

Maggie took a deep breath.  “My… friend… was a bank executive where Kincaid kept the flash drive in a safe deposit box.  I convinced him to grab it.”

Creegan closed his eyes and ran his hand over his head in frustration.  “So, what was the plan after that?”

“Well, that’s when things got a little… complicated.”  Maggie began slowly, this was the part she didn’t want to tell.  “We tried to sell the flash drive to the Rodriguez Brothers, but they had no respect for us and decided it would be cheaper to have us killed…”

“… and that’s Mr. Salad?”  Creegan picked up on the story.

Maggie nodded.  “I’m pretty sure.”

Creegan thought about the information again, then he realized he was missing a part of the story.  “So what happened to your ‘friend’?”  Creegan made quotation signs with his fingers when he said the word.

Maggie gritted her teeth and made a face and Creegan knew.  “You ditched him, didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes and got defensive.  “Well, what was I supposed to do?

Creegan laughed angrily and shook his head as Maggie continued.  “Look, when things didn’t go well with the Brothers, I knew I needed someone else.  Someone who could protect me…”

Maggie moved toward him at the last part and sensually put her hand on Creegan’s chest.  He stood fast, grabbing her wrist tightly.  “Have you ever met someone you didn’t fuck over?”

His voice was low and dark and full of intent she just stared then laughed at him.  “I guess not.”

Creegan took a deep breath and calmed himself down releasing her hand.  “So, how much is Elmo paying you?”

Maggie feigned innocence.  “What are you talking about?”

Creegan cracked his neck and gave her a look of pain.  “You think I don’t know how you work after all these years?  It’s not like you gave up on the whole deal, you still had the flash drive.  The big fish didn’t take you seriously, maybe the smaller fish would.  So you called Elmo.  I’m guessing that’s who you called in my bathroom because you and I both know you haven’t talked to your mom in four years.”

Maggie’s lip curled into a grin.  “Well I guess you got me.  Tomorrow at noon, Elmo is sending someone with the money and we are going to make the trade right here in the hospital.”

Creegan nodded, “How much are you getting?”

Maggie frowned, “Half a million.”

Creegan whistled, “Big time, huh?”

Maggie smiled again.  “It’s only the beginning, baby.  I’m guessing you want a bigger cut now?”

“No.”  Creegan’s answer was instant and stern and it shocked Maggie.

“What?  You’re kidding?”  Maggie scuffed.

Creegan shook his head, “The agreement was twenty and that’s what I’ll take.  We aren’t all in it only for the money.”

The last sentence seemed to hurt Maggie and she looked away.

“Watch the window.”  Creegan said, as he lay down on the bed.  “I’m going to get a couple of hours.  Wake me at midnight and we’ll switch.”

“Creegan… I just want you to-” Maggie stared, but Creegan cut her off.

“It’s in the past.”  He said, accepting his fate.  “Can’t do anything about it now.  One way or another, this ends tomorrow.”   

9- The Punchline

9

The Punch Line

Patty stared up at the address she had gotten from Grates.  It was a five-story, rat hole of an apartment complex.  It was the kind of place where the maintenance guy was always on vacation.  The cops were probably here nightly, and the apartments were a step up from a cardboard box.  Patty wasn’t surprised.  This wouldn’t be her first ‘business’ visit to a place like this and it certainly wouldn’t be her last.

She was about to take her first step to head in, when she saw them get out of there Crown Victoria.  Rockwell and Stone shut the doors and began to walk toward the apartment complex.  Rockwell was babbling non-stop while Stone pretended to listen. They hadn’t seen her, so she calmly moved backward into the shadows of a nearby alley.

What the fuck were they doing here?

 Patty’s mind reeled, trying to understand this.  Those two psychos were bottom-of-the-barrel murders.  It was a wonder the cops hadn’t taken them down yet.  They were hired for shit jobs and were infamous in certain criminal circles for shooting up the RTA train a year ago.  People hired them if they were desperate.

Was Elmo that desperate?

 No.  He wouldn’t have hired them after the RTA incident, and he would never double book Patty when those two were in the mix.

Would he?

They had to have been there for someone else.  After all, the complex was rundown and probably housed thousands of miscreants.  It was probably just a coincidence.

Patty would have to wait this out.  With Stone and Rockwell in there, things would get ugly; there would be bodies, probably cops.  Hopefully, if Jim Creegan was smart, he and the woman would get out.  When they did, Patty would follow and take them down.

The problem with the plan was that it relied on Creegan’s I.Q., which could not be that big if he was back with this Maggie Mills woman.  Patty had read the file which Grates had gotten her.  She knew what Maggie had done to Creegan.

Stupid men, and their stupid dicks.

****

“So, I have three hookers now, they’re all around me.  I am literally boxed in by hookers…” Rockwell’s story continued on with a stunning lack of direction.

Stone found himself wondering how it was that Rockwell could keep it up without asphyxiating.  He also caught himself trying to figure out how long this story had been going on when Rockwell started telling it as they crossed the crappy main lobby of the unkempt apartment complex to the elevators.

“…So I say, ‘so how much for the lot of you?  Is it cheaper to buy in bulk?’”  Rockwell’s story paused while he laughed at his own joke.

Stone pressed the elevator button and waited while Rockwell continued, “…So then, one of them asked if I can afford them all, and I say, ‘Bitch I kill people for a living, what I want, I take.’  She didn’t believe me, so I pulled my .357”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.  Stone interrupted Rockwell’s story as they stepped into the small box elevator, only big enough for maybe four people.  “Hold on, you told a bunch of hookers you kill people?  And you pulled your gun at the club?!”

Rockwell became sullen.  “Not at the club!  What do you think I am, stupid?  It was the after-party.”

Stone shook his head in frustration as he hit the button for the third floor.  “Oh yeah, house party is a much better place to pull a gun.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Stone.”  Rockwell said before beginning again, “anyway, these whores weren’t even scared.  They were just impressed.  Then the one goes, ‘well if you want us forever, you could always just kill our pimp!’  Then, she starts laughing like it’s a joke, so I ask who their pimp is and she points him out.  I’m expecting a big black mother fucker.  Instead, it’s his tall skinny white guy in glasses-”

Stone cut in again.  “Does this story have a point?”

Rockwell gave him an indignant look.  “Of course, asshole.   Just wait.  So, any way… Wait, where was I?”

“The pimp was a skinny white guy with glasses,” Stone responded, without emotion.

“Oh Yeah!” Rockwell remembered.  “A skinny mother fucker, right, so I just stand up and yell, ‘Hey!  Two percent!  These bitches are mine now!’ and I put two in his chest!”

Rockwell followed the word chest with a series of loud, obnoxious laughter.  Stone stared in exhausted annoyance.  “You shot a pimp at an after party?”

Rockwell, still laughing, responded between bursts.  “I know, right?  I swear, I think I’m a pimp now!”

Stone shook his head.  “So, what is the punch line here?”

Rockwell looked up confused, “Well, of course it’s-”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

****

Creegan snapped to awareness.  It was night in his apartment.  They had fallen asleep.

“SHIT!” he scolded himself as he pulled himself upright and hurriedly began to put on clothes.

Maggie stirred and spoke softly, still half asleep.  “What’s wrong?”

“Come on, get up.  We fell asleep.”  Creegan spoke hurried and sternly as he dragged a clean white shirt over his head and pulled a duffle out from under his bed.

Maggie raised her head off the bed and scratched her eyes.  “Come back to bed.  No one knows I’m here.  No one thinks you’re stupid enough to take me back again.”

Creegan looked up and had a moment of failing resolve as he saw her naked body, perfecting lit by the moon through the window.  “Really?  You think people think I’m not too stupid to take you back a third time, after I already did it twice before and got fucked over?  You think they are all looking at the files thinking ‘third time’s a charm’?”

Maggie seemed to realize what Creegan was getting at, and then she rolled out of bed.  “You’re right.”

They franticly put some clothes into the duffle.  He zipped it shut and they opened the door, stepping out.  Creegan turned and locked the door, handing the duffle to Maggie.  They began to walk toward the elevators.

“So, who’d you call in the bathroom?”  Creegan asked, looking at Maggie out of the corner of his eyes.

Maggie gave him playful glance.  “Still don’t trust me?  I’m likely to take that as an insult, after what we just did.”

Creegan decided not to press further and instead, pressed the elevator button.

It immediately dinged as if the elevator was already on the floor.  The doors slid open, slowly.

Maggie and Creegan were face to face with Rockwell and Stone.

“Hi guys.”  Creegan said, nervously, after a second of silence.  “What are the odds you two are here for someone else?”

“Distinctly low.”  Stone said, his cold gaze locked on Creegan.

“Mother fuckers!”  Rockwell yelled suddenly, and went to the front of his pants for the big revolver.

Stone went inside is coat for one of his multiple automatic pistols.

Creegan watched the shit hit the fan in slow motion.

Creegan lunged and drove his fist into Stone’s face as hard as he could, taking the man by surprise.  He lost his footing and crashed into the corner of the small elevator.

“STAIRS!” Creegan yelled to Maggie as he charged forward into the elevator, catching Rockwell’s hand as it came up with the revolver and pinned him backward into the metal wall, hard with his whole body.

Maggie didn’t think twice and bolted to the stairs.  Creegan kicked with his foot, backward to smash the ‘Close Door’ button and the elevator dinged before the doors slid closed, sealing Creegan in a small box with two of the scariest men in the state of Ohio.

****

Maggie did not have to be told twice.  She ducked low and sprinted through the door to the stairwell.  She was not going down, here.  She hit the stairs, too fast and three down she left her feet spectacularly, flying through the air and crashing to the landing.

Maggie cursed the fall and picked herself up.  She was so close.  So much money was on the line.  She had finally managed to make a deal and now, less than seven hours from now, she would be rich or at least a lot closer to it.

She heard gun shots and hoped that it wasn’t the end of Creegan.  Either way, she picked up the pace.  Realizing she had to get out of the lobby before the elevator did, she couldn’t bank on her personal punching bag winning this one.  She had to play it safe.

Somehow, deep inside however, Maggie knew Jim Creegan would come out of this one just like he always did.  If there was one quality to the man Maggie never got sick of, it was his ability to survive anything.  Gunfights, fist fights, knife fights, Creegan always ended up walking away.  He also, somehow, managed to keep a small bit of his faith.  Not in God or religion, but in people.  After all Maggie had done to him, he still cared for her.  Maggie had lost this ability a long time ago.

She got to the bottom floor and was startled by another series of gunshots.  She hit the door out of the stairway and it didn’t give.  Maggie staggered and fell, a slew of terrible words streaming out of her mouth as she did.  She stood and growled before moving back to the door, realizing that it was a security door that needed a key to be opened.

She cursed and worked to get the door open, realizing that if she couldn’t get it open her fate would, yet again, be in the hands of Jim Creegan.

OPEN, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!

Through the small window in the door, she looked out into the lobby as the elevator light clicked on and the doors began to slide open.

The three men tumbled out of the elevator in a chaotic mass.  Creegan, came down on top of Stone with his full force and body weight while Rockwell, somehow, came over top of Creegan, hitting the floor and sprawling to the side, his giant revolver sliding across the floor and clacking to a halt against the very door from which Maggie was trying to escape.

Creegan and Stone were locked up in a vicious battle.  Creegan was trying to rain down forearms on Stone, while Stone blocked and tried to fight out of the terrible position. Stone’s nose was bleeding, either from the first explosive punch or something that had happened on the elevator.  Creegan was dripping blood from his left arm.  It was running down from the shoulder, maybe.  Had he been shot?

Rockwell was shaking off the nasty fall and catching his bearings.  Rockwell then seemed to come to, his eyes suddenly scanning for his gun.

Maggie began to scream and pound on the door.  “CREEGAN! CREEGAN! THE GUN! HE’S GOING FOR THE GUN!”

Her screaming got everyone’s attention.  Rockwell and Creegan both looked toward the gun.  Creegan moved quickly, worming his hand from top to bottom over Stone’s arms, then snapped his forearm in a quick. tight strike to Stone’s temple.

Rockwell pulled himself up and started running for the gun.

Creegan had stunned Stone and pulled himself into a desperate run.

Rockwell got there first, grabbing the gun and raising it.  Creegan was a second behind him, leaping him the air and throwing his shoulder forward.  All his weight slammed into Rockwell, body checking him into the door.  Rockwell’s head hit the thin glass window and it exploded inward.  Maggie covered her face just in time to be showered with the remnants of the window.

Creegan grabbed the gun, still in Rockwell’s hand, and pulled the trigger.  The gun was pointing down and promptly fired, sending the large .357 Magnum hollow point bullet through the top of Rockwell’s foot.

Rockwell wailed in pain and Creegan brought the large revolver up and into his face, breaking his lip and sending him backward to the floor in a fetal position.

Creegan spun and brought the gun up, just as Stone was pulling himself to his feet and going for his own.

“STOP!”  He yelled, and Stone obeyed, eyeing the large gun.

There was a half second of silence as Stone weighed the possibility of drawing and firing on Creegan before Creegan pulled the trigger.

Stone decided against that action.  He slowly pulled his hands out of his jacket and raised them in the air.

“I swear I’m gonna fucking KILL YOU!”  Rockwell was screaming on the floor, clutching his foot.  “I’m going to fucking cut your balls off and shove them up your fucking ass!” Rockwell continued to shout these things, but Maggie had blocked them out.  Instead, she reached through the window and took Creegan's keys, then unlocked the door and stepped through while Creegan eyed Stone.

Maggie then stayed behind Creegan as they both backed out of the lobby and into the street, Creegan never taking his eyes off Stone.

Yet again, Creegan had survived.  Yet again, he had rescued her.  She knew he would.

That’s why she picked him.

8-The Way She Goes...

8

The Way She Goes

The cook leaned back in the bathtub.  It was a small bathtub basin in a hotel shower, but it was just big enough for him.  He soaked there, thinking about the day’s events thus far.  He surveyed the water in which he soaked, which had a pinkish hue to it.  This was because of the numerous cuts he received when he went through the widow and into the car hood.

He saw the woman’s face in his head.

He took a big deep breath and sighed at how wrong that situation had become and how he would have to fix it.  Fast.  For all of the Cook’s considerable talent, he was deathly afraid of cleaners.

Cleaners, for those who don’t know the term, are not maids. They are highly trained (usually ex military) types that have itchy trigger fingers and tend to kill everything that has anything to do with whatever they are sent in to clean.  They are sent in when something was gotten truly fucked and everybody has to be murdered.

The cook looked around the small bathroom.  Toilet, sink and mirror.  A spare gun lay on the top of the toilet tank within arm’s reach, if needed.  He took a deep breath and dipped his head under the water.

He would get up and out of the bath, clean himself off and get some sleep.  Then he would get after that bitch and her ogre of a bodyguard and get that thumb drive before the cleaners got involved.

The Cook surfaced and opened his eyes.

Four men in suits and dark sunglasses stood in the room.  All had mean looking Uzi-like machine guns leveled at him.  In front of the men, on the toilet, sat a woman.  She was also wearing a black suit.  Her body was the perfect athletic build with legs that went on for year.  She had long blonde hair which she kept in a tight pony tail, with the exception of a couple of loose bangs hanging around her forehead.  Her eyes were covered by a pair of Aviator sunglasses that looked too big for her face.

The Cook’s face took on a look of both frustration and fear.  They had come so fast and so quiet.  He’d been under the water for maybe thirty seconds.  He knew from their abilities and their uniforms, they were a cleaning team.

Damn that was fast.

His gut sat directly behind her, still on the toilet.  They had left it as if to bate him to make a move.  When nothing happened after a couple of seconds, she began to speak.  “In our kind of work, it’s a very tricky situation when we have to come face to face with others that practice the same profession.  That, of course, being the career killer.  Do you agree?”

Her voice was sultry and sweet, like that of an angel.

She was not an angel.

“I see we are having a problem,” she began again, “we are currently having a conversation, which means I say something and then you respond.  I have asked you a question, so you should answer.  Let’s try again…  Do you agree?”

The Cook surveyed the room again.  His gun called to him, but the Uzis that the four men held made him think twice.  Finally, he answered.  “Indeed, I do agree, Miss…?”

The Cook let the last part hang in the air like a question, and she smiled.  “You may call me Barbie.”

He raised his eyebrow, “You call yourself Barbie?”

Her grin became a full fledged smile.  “In addition to people, I also enjoy killing stereotypes.”

The Cook nodded.  “Indeed you do.”

Barbie took a deep breath, “So, as I was saying, it’s hard to know the intention when you meet another killer because, being in the business, it’s highly possible that the other killer could, in fact, be there to kill you.”

“Are you here to kill me?” The Cook asked, his eyes darting back to the gun.

 Barbie made a tsk tsk noise with her mouth, “come now, that’s a silly question isn’t it? If I were here to kill you, why would I tell you first?  Does not make sense, does it?  You have to be sneakier about finding out.  Use tricks.”

The Cook frowned.  “What kind of tricks?  Please, enlighten me.”

“Oh, there are thousands,” Barbie began as she stood up and began to move back toward her four associates.  “Body language, eye movement, perspiration.  But I find the most valuable is what they say…”   Her associates somehow made room for her and still kept their guns on The Cook, in the small bathroom.

She took off her glasses and turned.  Her eyes were a bright piercing blue.  “An example of this would be, if they know your real name.  Not your code name or alias, but your real name.  Because the only one who knows that is your handler, right?  This means you have been sold out.”

The Cook began to breathe hard, his eyes darting from the gun to the cleaners and back again.  Barbie smiled continued, “Wouldn’t you agree?  Samuel Thaddeus Franklin.”

The Cook made his play for his gun, but never made it.  The room filled with the sound of gunfire as all four Uzis emptied their thirty-round clips in a matter of a second.  The ammo shredded the plastic tub, the synthetic tile walls, and of course, the body of The Cook.  A man also known as Samuel Thaddeus Franklin.

Barbie put her sunglasses back on, “It never ceases to amaze me how complacent they are.”

She turned and walked back into the hotel room were the other four men of her team where ripping the place to shreds.

“Nothing, ma’am.” One of them said.

One of her men from the bathroom standing to her right asked, “What’s our next play?”

“Our next play?” she scoffed.  “We get out of here and wait for the idiots to make a move.  They’re not professionals, after all.”

****

Creegan put the key in the lock and turned, while pulling up on the knob and twisting.  This was the only way to get the door to his efficiency apartment open.  It was a combination which had taken patience and experimentation to finally figure out.  The door swung open to his small apartment.  It was a simple place, clean but not too much to it.

There was a bed, twin size, in one corner.  Across from it was a small T.V. resting on a couple of milk crates.  Two laundry baskets sat at another corner, one full of dirty clothes.  In the other, folded neatly, were some clean ones.  Last, but not least, a small refrigerator rounded out the room.

“We aren’t staying long so don’t get too comfortable.”  Creegan said as he moved to the fridge and grabbed some ice.

 “I don’t see why not, we already dodged bullets with Mr. Salad.”  Maggie said looking around and heading for the bathroom.

Creagan pulled out a piece of paper towel and a sandwich bag.  Cracking the ice on the door of the fridge, he fashioned himself an Ice pack.  “That guy was just the first.  He was a trained killer, Maggie, which means whatever you are into is big.”

“So where to, then?”  She yelled from the bathroom.

He placed the ice pack on his jaw and winced slightly.  His haw hurt like hell where The Cook had tagged him.  “I know of this hospital, not too far from here.  They built a new one and haven’t gotten around to demolishing the old one yet, but it will be a roof over our head and we might get lucky and find a bed.”

He said all of this as he gathered some things into a duffle bag.  She didn’t respond and Creegan began again.  “You really should tell me what’s going on.  That guy back there was a real killer, Maggie.”

She didn’t respond again as he zipped his duffle bag, “I don’t know if I can really protect you this time.”

No response again.  Jim began to get nervous.  It had been nearly five minutes now.

What the hell was she doing in there?

“Maggie?”  He asked and when no response came, he moved to the door and pushed it open.

Maggie snapped her phone shut as he entered.  “What, we don’t knock?”

Creegan’s face turned to rage.  “Who did you just call?”

She smiled, “My mom.”

“Bullshit,” he said, and grabbed her arm hard.

He dragged her out of the bathroom.  “What the fuck is going on?!”

Creegan yelled at her as he let her go, forcefully.  She stumbled backwards onto the bed.

Her grin became sultry, “What are you going to do if I don’t talk?”

His face was stone cold, “Enough of this shit.  Who was on the phone?!  Who the fuck are you working for?!”

She did this little bouncy thing on the bed and changed the subject.  “This is the same bed from high school, isn’t it?  The magic bed.”

He frowned and calmed down.  Maggie continued, “This is the bed we used in high school.  Mmm… memories.”

Creegan nodded.  “The bed I used to tell you  that I loved you in, yeah it is.  It’s also the bed I came home to alone after you deserted me.”

“We were going different directions.” She said

“I wasn’t going to get the football career and you dumped me because I wouldn’t be rich.”  His words stabbed out.

“Details.”  She responded, moving off the bed and toward him, putting herself close, her hands sliding to his hips.

Creegan could feel his resolve slipping and his mind wandering to those wonderful nights with her.  All those nights, licking the sweat off her back.  He had to wonder what it was about a woman that allowed him to make the same mistake over and over again, and to do it willingly.

“You abandoned me in high school.”  He said.

“So sorry,” she responded, insincerely, as she lightly kissed his neck.

“You dumped me during that thing on the train.”  He was saying ,to himself, more than her.

“Not on purpose.”  She lightly kissed the side of his cheek.

Creegan grabbed her shoulders suddenly.  “You're going to do it again aren’t you?  Am I really your fall guy?  You’re going to fuck me again aren’t you?”

Her smile went ear to ear.  “Well… I certainly am trying…”  She lightly broke his grip.

“You aren’t making it easy for me.”  She rose up and locked her lips to his and he kissed back.

Creegan made the same mistake one more time.  And it was felt so damn good.