Dead Six

was lying on the floor next to me. The door to the balcony was open; a cool breeze drifted into the room.

On the floor next to me was Adar’s strange little box. I’d given it a half-hearted examination; it was some kind of puzzle box, made of wood, ornately carved. It looked very old. I tried for a minute to open it but quickly gave up.

I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there when I heard someone knocking on my door. I didn’t answer it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. After a few moments, the knocking stopped, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Our trip back from Adar’s compound had been long, but I barely remembered it. We’d been debriefed by Gordon as soon as we’d returned to the compound. He, of course, had been overjoyed, especially at the intelligence we’d gathered. Tailor neglected to mention the fifty thousand dollars he’d stuffed into his backpack. I’d forgotten to turn over the puzzle box.

I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see that dead girl hanging from Adar’s ceiling. I wondered what her name had been, where she’d come from, how she’d ended up there. It reminded me so much of what happened to my mom, it hurt. My stomach was still twisted into knots, hours later.

I took another swig from the large plastic bottle in my hand. I’d managed to bum some booze from one of the other guys. I didn’t know what in the hell it was. It tasted terrible, but it was alcohol, and it was potent. It’d do. As I took another drink, my bathroom door suddenly opened. Sarah walked into my room.

“Hey,” I said, not looking up at her.

“Mike? Are you okay?” she asked, standing over me.

I raised my eyes up to hers. “Not really,” I said. I took another sip.

“What happened?” she asked, sitting on the floor next to me. She saw the bottle in my hand. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes, I am!” I said, loudly slurring my speech and saluting her with the bottle. Sarah grabbed it out of my hand. “Hey!” I protested, but she ignored me. She lifted it to her nose and made a face when she sniffed it.

“What is this stuff?”

“I was drinking that,” I said testily.

“I think you’ve had enough, Mike,” she said firmly.

“Just leave me alone, okay?” I snatched the bottle back from her.

“Mike, please, just tell me what happened. I’m here for you. Talk to me.”

“No, goddamn it, I don’t want to talk about it!” I snapped. “I just want some peace and quiet! You think all because you screwed me it gives you the right to march in here whenever the hell you want?”

Sarah huffed loudly and quickly stood up. “Look, I read the report, okay? I know what you found in there.”

I let out an obnoxious drunken snort. “Oh, do you? So you know that he cut her open, cut out her organs, and put them on his shelf like bowling trophies?”

“Oh my God,” Sarah said. We’d kind of left that part out of our report.

“So don’t barge in here and tell me I can’t have a goddamned drink!”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help!” I shouted, slamming the plastic bottle down on the concrete floor. “You’re not my damned mother! She’s been dead since I was a kid. You know what? I get by just fine.”

Sarah’s expression softened a little. “How did she die?”

“She was murdered. I came home one day and found her cut to pieces, just like that girl. My dad’s dead too. So are half my friends. You know what? I don’t care. I kill people for money. Shooting people is my job. I can handle it. I always handle it. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your pity. And I don’t need you. So just march your little ass the hell out of here and leave me alone!”

Sarah’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t need this. Go ahead, drink it all! Drink yourself to death if you want. I hope you choke on it!” She turned on a heel and stormed out of my room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

A pulse of anger surged through me. I picked up the ancient puzzle box and threw it against the door as hard as I could. It crunched loudly as it hit, and fell to the floor, broken. I stared at the bathroom door, breathing heavily. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted Sarah to come back. I wanted another drink. I didn’t want to drink anymore.

A sickening pit formed in my stomach as I realized what I’d done. Good job, Ace, I thought. You managed to drive her away, too.

“Shut up,” I said aloud. It’s not my fault. I had a bad night. There was comfort in self-pity. I lifted the plastic bottle to my lips and began to gulp down the rest of the pungent mystery alcohol. It burned on the way down, and I thought I was going to throw up. I let the empty bottle clatter to the floor.

I slumped back against the wall and closed my eyes. The room was spinning, and it wouldn’t stop. My thoughts became even more sluggish than they were before, and it was difficult to concentrate on anything. I had a hard time remembering what I was so upset about. I drifted off to sleep.

LORENZO

The van slalomed around the corner as we headed back toward town. I bounced painfully against the wall. The girl I had rescued was sitting next to me, head flopped back on the seat, totally out. Apparently she’d been drugged by the bad guys.

“Easy, Carl, don’t get us killed.”

“Don’t you tell me easy! Plan, Lorenzo, we had a plan. Who the hell is this broad?” He swung us around a truck full of sheep, and when I say full of sheep, I mean that literally, like it was piled full with legs sticking out the top. “She was not part of the plan. I would have remembered that.”

“They were going to torture her. I couldn’t just leave her. She sounded like an American before she passed out. We can just drop her at the embassy gates and take off.”

“Is that what you think now?” He gestured out the window at the Zubaran police vehicles streaking in the direction we had come from. “Cops crawling everywhere. And you forgot, because of the mobs of angry assholes, they evacuated the embassy.”

To accentuate his point, I saw a man on the sidewalk getting the hell kicked out of him by some of the Zubaran secret police. “Okay, our place is closer. Get us off the streets.” The whole city had gone nuts.

“I’m not taking her to our place. With what we’re working on, nobody can see that.”

“Do it, Carl.” I ordered. My crew was loyal, and I seldom had to pull rank, but this was my crew, and it wasn’t a democracy. The driver swore, his beady eyes glaring at me in the rearview mirror. We reached the compound in minutes. We entered through the attached garage so no one would see us carry the girl in.

Reaper met us at the door. He had a Glock shoved in the front of his pants. “What happened out there? Police bands are screaming about some massacre. Did you get the box? Hey . . . who’s the babe?”

“Lorenzo decided he’s Batman, sneaking around at night and rescuing people,” Carl spat. I ignored him and carried the girl up the stairs and into the apartment. I laid her gently on the couch. She was still out.

“Where’s the box?” Reaper asked.

“Somebody beat us to it and whacked Adar.” I put the DVD in his hand. “The shooters are hopefully on this, and we need to figure out who they are. We need that damn box.”

“On it, chief.” He ran for his computer.

I flopped onto the couch next to the girl. My hands were starting to do the post-action shake. No matter how many times I did something like this, that part never changed. Carl sighed, folded the stock of his stubby Galil, and set it on the coffee table.

“Pretty bad in there, I guess?” he asked slowly, sitting down. We had been working together for over fifteen