The Wake Up Call

TAD

Chapter 1.30: Betrayal

The wide, heavy door at the end of the corridor began to move with a faint hiss of compressed air and glided effortlessly open. In the twilight volume of the room below Hetch could just make out the bulky figure of a suited man stepping to one side and allowing Splice to enter the darkness. Hetch glanced at the locked weapons container and had already formulated a means to unlock it when Splice called him in. The corridor was cold, clean and uninviting like the figure itself that faded into the dark recesses of the huge apartment. The walls were superbly engineered and raised all the way up to a complex series of domes. Nothing was out of place in this room, every surface spotless, every step finely crafted and each designer toy carefully situated in a stylish manner; the only thing wrong with this picture were the two new visitors.

The figure emerged with a bottle in his hand and grasped for the empty glass, which slid out of reach on the shiny table's glass top. Hetch was fascinated by the expensive details and uncomfortable looking furniture, which surrounded him. It was like being in one of those expensive showrooms, the kind that the security guards would prevent Hetch from stepping foot in. A tall box lent across a round sidewall and its construction was rough and protective. It wasn't the kind of luggage this figure would ever need or use.

"What do you two want?" said the figure, spilling some alcohol into the glass and across the back of his hand that he licked off.

Through the nearly closed bathroom door Hetch spotted blood on the white floor tiles and pools of water. He quickly stepped inside, saw the pistol and took it.

"You know why we are here."

The figure pointed the now empty glass and his finger at Splice who sat down, motionless and staring at the large, heavily built man.

"No, haven't got a clue. Why don't you two low-lifes fill me in?"

Hetch continued to slowly walk around the apartment gathering as much information about the apartment's resident as he possibly could whilst pretending to be looking out of the wide, panoramic window blinds.

Splice gave a scornful laugh and gritted his teeth.

"Hey you!" said the slurry voice of the figure, turning to Hetch as he approached the message recorder on the side table. "Did you wipe your feet and wash your hands. I don't need any of your filth messing up this place."

He turned his attention back to Splice.

"Just had a bath."

"That's an interesting ornament." said Splice, his eyes remained focused and unblinking on the character on the opposite side of the glass desk.

A moment of thought followed before more alcohol was digested and the figure snapped his eyes to the case, the tall crate and back to Hetch and Splice.

"Who are you?" said the figure, whose mood was beginning to get unsettled.

Hetch rewound the last message on the recorder and hit play. The recorder gave a hiss of background noise and nothing else. Its sloping display screen gave the message "Mute mode activated. Private call." Below the line of crisp, liquid crystal display letters was the touch sensitive control panel. Hetch skilfully browsed through its intricate menus and spotted the address of a nightclub in a rough part of the city. It seemed out of place. Why would someone who lived in the Milton Citadel be making calls to The Brox Club?

"Who do you think we are?"

Hetch rewound the recorder back to the next audio log and hit play once again.

""Can't talk. The 58th junction. Trace Risus, Monkfish and someone called Kurane. Get a tech. there, like yesterday! I really need help. Please, please help me." came the pleading voice of the stewardess.

The figure snatched the bottle and began to refill his glass again. Splice leaned across the desk, grabbed the bottle and the glass and looked into the blue eyes of the man.

"We want to have a little talk with you."

"Look! I told Dakk the delivery will be here on Thursday. I just need a little more time."

Hetch felt around the edges of the recorder, pressed a small panel and ejected the data cartridge being careful to do this without the attention of it's owner. He pocketed the tiny storage cube and stood behind the nervous figure that sensed they meant business.

"God, you've got to give me a little more time!"

Splice pulled the bottle from the man and slammed it down on the desk releasing a pulse of alcohol and a loud cracking sound as the glass desk showed the first stages of breaking.

"Tell us about the delivery." whispered Splice in a menacing tone of voice.

The figure gulped down a few shots of air and glanced back over his shoulder. Hetch slid the gun from under his armoured coat and tapped it against his leg.

"Like what?"

Splice emptied the remaining alcohol slowly over the desk.

"Everything!"

"I can't."

Hetch pushed him in the back in order to change his mind.

"You see, my friend over there gets a little nervous when someone stops talking. He really hates those long, silent pauses. He just has to make some noise."

"They will kill me."

"Who?"

Hetch prompted him again with a second tap of the pistol's barrel.

"The McKaffs!" said the figure, closing his eyes and biting the inside of his lip. The mere sound of their name caused him almost physical pain.

"You look like a smart man. What do you do for a living? A place like this doesn't come cheap."

"Pilot."

"So, you must be pretty good under pressure. Am I right?"

The figure nodded.

"So when you hit a little turbulence you're cool, right?"

Hetch kicked against the back of the chair.

"You work for the McKaffs?"

"Yeah."

"Dakk is your boss?"

"Correct."

"It must be nice having a boss, someone there to tell you what to do and when to do it."

The blue eyes of the man jumped about from Splice's line of questioning and Hetch's continued kicks to his chair.

"We used to have a boss, but someone killed him."

"I'm sorry about that." gasped the anxious man.

"Are you?" exclaimed Splice, tapping the empty bottle against the wet, damaged glass desktop.

"He was an old friend, but he was also a monster. He was a nasty piece of work that could slit your throat from ear to ear and then offer to buy you a drink. His name was Mewco. You recognise it, don't you?"

The figure shook his head wildly.

Splice took a sideswipe at the empty bottle and bear clawed it to one side sending it flying off the desk and shattering onto the hard marble steps on the other side of the room.

"What about Carena Davis?"

The figure stood, obviously wanting to escape from the approaching dark storm clouds of violence. The sound of her name acted as the trigger on an imaginary starting-pistol. His heart and mind raced at the prospect of what could happen next.

"Sit the fuck down!" screamed Splice, his face enraged with blood.

A heavy boot pressed against the chair and Hetch forced it under the legs of the raised figure. His legs collapsed and once again he was seated.

"Look, okay, what do you want to know."

"Finally we reach an understanding."

Hetch reached over the figure and placed the small data cartridge in front of him.

"Tell us about The Brox Club." asked Hetch.

The unexpected question from the previously silent Hetch drove the man's pulse even higher.

"I know my rights. Enforcers can't question me like this without a real or virtual lawyer present."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think we're from the security forces? Must have been these snazzy coats and body armour, huh?" replied Splice mocking the man.

"Well, you're shit out of luck! Tell us about The Brox Club."

"It's a small place on the other side of the city."

"Don't fuck with us hero! What was the vid-call about? Who did you contact?"

"Look, I just needed something to get me through the night. Take the edge off."

"Right."

"I smuggle some cargo through the shuttle security in exchange for a few credits."

"Isn’t you noble? A few credits wouldn't get you a one-day ticket for the car park around here. Why were you putting the pressure on Carena Davis?"

"You won't believe this, but I've probably got fewer credits than you two. I owe some people. In a major league way."

"Gambling?"

The figure nodded.

"So, instead of working yourself you get her to be the mule and take all the risks?"

"I had no choice. There are much bigger fish than you two in this corrupt ocean."

"What about the McKaffs, how do they tie in with your little problem?"

"They wanted some punk to be waxed, some property of Mewco's they wanted. The case." he said, and pointed to it.

"And The Brox Club?"

"A hit, a REAL big hit!"

Hetch stepped back, away from the chair and the words.

"They wanted 'a clean ending'."

"You arranged for the bomb at the 58th Junction Bridge?"

"Yes." said the man, nodding his head with shame.

"Then you let your wife and some punk kid walk into it?"

"Yeah. That's the way it happened I swear it. Things just got out of control."

Splice stood up and walked around the room.

"You see, I've got a problem with this picture."

Splice searched through the expensive cabinets before returning to the glass desk carrying two full bottles of whiskey.

"I've seen some parts of this jigsaw and you're lying to me" continued Splice, unscrewing the tops of each bottle before sliding them both towards the seated figure that just sat there and looked at the bottles.

"You're a clever man. You've switched some of the pieces but they don't quite fit together neatly. I was in Mewco's office closing a deal to supply, well it doesn't matter what, when he received a called from someone in the Milton Citadel asking for a quick delivery job for someone to act as a courier to a metal case. Now this is the strange thing, an elite from here asking for the services of a low-life so far away. I ran some checks, pulled your history and looked into your past."

Splice pulled a lighter from his pocket and placed it in the middle of the table. He twisted one of the bottles and read the label.

"Hey, that's a lot of alcohol highly flammable too. Better be careful not to smoke, don't want to start any fires do we?"

"I've told you the truth. You've got to believe me" squirmed the figure in his seat.

"Time for a hot whiskey shower." said Splice to Hetch and pushed the bottles in his direction.

Hetch raised both bottles up and slowly poured their contents over the head of Josh. The streams of cold whiskey mixed with his warm sweaty skin.

"Why would I lie to you?"

Hetch continued pouring until all the alcohol rich liquid had soaked the clothes of their victim. The twenty-year-old malt whiskey gave off a pleasant, but highly dangerous smell.

"Shame, that was a good vintage year too." said Splice, flicking the lighter's wheel and randomly sending small sparks upwards.

"It turns out that Mr. Weller isn't as clean cut and honest as he pretends to be. You met her in Mewco's Money Shot Club, got her a job at The Golden Palace casino and started to groom her for a lifetime of being a drugs mule and part time prostitute."

Splice leaned back in the chair and opened his arm in an expression of puzzlement.

"What kind of a man would do that?"

"A cornered man. Have you ever been backed so far into the corner that your ribs are squashed into the shape of a triangle?"

"And now I've left the best part until last. Hetch, I think you'll find it the real fucking cherry on top of the cake. This case, you want to know what's in it? Want to open it?"

"Yeah, why not."

"Turn the lights on."

"System: Lights on." the figure ordered the apartment's computer.

Splice spun the metal case on the wet desk and grabbed the thumbs of Josh Weller. He pressed them against the two metal locks and waited for the recognition chips to do their work.

"You know those bigger fish will find you. Wherever you run, they will hunt you down. They will find you."

"Yeah? Good for them. That saves me looking for those three pricks. Now open the fucking case!"

"Click, Click." The catches on the case accepted Josh Weller's DNA pattern from his thumbs and it sprung open.

Hetch snatched the case, spun it around and lifted the lid.

"Shit!"

"Surprised?"

"Its empty!"

"Of course. You were just a decoy kido! This garbage sitting right here was the real courier. He hoped with his wife attempting to steal the case from you that it would convince the McKaffs to ice Mewco. No doubt if we looked hard enough around this apartment we would find a stack of credits and some fully packed cases ready for a quick exit and a new life somewhere, leaving her to face the McKaffs by herself."

"You're pulling this junk out your ass."

"Am I? Where were you supposed to get off?"

"Rhyson." replied Hetch.

"The McKaffs sent a spy along on the shuttle to make sure nothing happened to the case before they got someone to steal it and make it look like a rival gang muscling in on Mewco's turf."

"The ape in the suit on the shuttle?"

"Exactly. The bomb at Rhyson took him out and Dakk saw it as an attempt by Mewco to take back the Tek Emporiums. With Wheeze and Keel so heavily fucked up by some badly cloned implants and constantly taking 'snort' narcotics Dakk thought Mewco was trying to bring them down using corrupt bio-enhancements."

"They forced me to do it all. Do you know what they would do to me if I didn't?"

"It wouldn't be half as bad as what they would do to Carena. Would it?" said Hetch, playing with the pistol in the background, clicking its safety catch on and off.

"Let me guess. The bridge on the 58th Junction, it was your contact point?"

Hetch nodded.

"And she pleaded with you to help her." Splice asked, tapping the small data cartridge on the desk.

"That poor, naive bitch actually thought she could trust you to help her, and instead you arrange for another bomb. You're one fucked up individual!"

"What are you going to do, kill me?"

"No."

Splice stood up, signalled to Hetch to leave and walked up to the tall crate balanced against the sidewall. He tapped the lid with his knuckles.

"See you later Mewco!"

Hetch paused in his tracks. The crate was a makeshift coffin filled with the corpse of his ex-boss.

"Oh and about Carena, for what it matters, she will more than likely not see tomorrow." Said Splice.

"If you’ve hurt her I will get some people to hunt you two bastards down!" screamed Josh looking at the coffin.

"I knew that nugget of information would get your attention. And before you get any crazy ideas about triggering the intruder defences inside the elevator, we’re on our way to make sure she does live to see tomorrow. You’d better pray nothing happens to either of us or there will be a whole gang of individuals all queuing up to cut you!" barked Splice in a menacing tone.

"Now what?" screamed the figure, his clothes still dripping with whiskey.

"Wait, wait until the shit hits the fan!"

The two outlines of Hetch and Splice disappeared down the corridor and towards the elevator. As they entered it Hetch turned and threw the gun back along the passageway. It bounced along the floor and came to rest near the coffin.

Josh ran over, snatched the pistol from the floor and pointed it at the two leaving visitors. He took aim and pulled back the trigger again and again.

"* Click, click, click, click. *"

Hetch pulled the magazine from his pocket and waved it in mid-air as the elevator doors closed.

"See you in hell, asshole!"

To be continued...

TAD "