“Does a Jew like a bargain?” Freddy quipped. “Hell, I can get you a tank if you got the money.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gideon reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of scrap paper. “This here’s a list of what I had in mind. How long you think it’ll take to get it all up?”
Freddy took the paper from him and whistled softly in awe as he read it. “Damn! You ain’t kiddin’! This is some serious shit!”
“I’m a serious man.” Gideon looked at him with no emotion on his face.
“I see that,” Freddy nodded, folding the paper in two and stuffing it into his chest pocket, along with the cash cards. “Ok. Gimme ‘til tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Hell, I was expectin’ you to tell me it’d take a couple of days.”
“That’s why Junior knew to come to me. I deliver while other people are still callin’ around.” His eyes twinkled greedily. “Of course, y’know it’ll be extra for the rush!”
“I expected as much,” Gideon would’ve been disappointed if there hadn’t been. He’d spent a lifetime doing business with low-life criminals. Over time, one came to expect certain behaviors. Any deviation from the pattern immediately arouses suspicions. He pulled out another stack of cards and flipped them onto the table. “That suit ya?”
“Yeah, that’ll be more’n enough.” Freddy smiled broadly. “I’ll call Junior and set up the drop.”
“Good! I’d love to stay and enjoy more of yore fine hospitality, but unfortunately, I’m a busy man.” His head ached, and he needed more painkillers and moonshine. He snapped his fingers at Junior. “C’mon, ya worthless waste of my seed!” Without saying another word, he turned and walked out.
“Ficken du Arschloch!”
***
As fate would have it, just a few miles north, one of the two men Gideon Tuttle had sworn revenge on was lodged at a motel on Memorial Parkway in southern Huntsville. While Forrest Frost and Number Three awaited resupply and reinforcement, Cee Tee scanned the Ultranet and all local communications. So far, it had been a quiet morning.
“I gotta give this shit-kicker Burlington credit,” he said to Forrest, who lounged on the bed nearby. “He’s not your average cousin-lovin’ Barney Fife. He’s kept any talk about last night off the normal police channels.”
“My guess is he’s using personal PDCs,” Frost concurred as he stood up and stretched. Finally, the last of the aches and pains had subsided, and he was feeling himself again. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about what you told me about Burlington and his squeeze.”
“What about it?”
Frost smiled slyly, “I’m thinking we might exploit that.”
“How so?”
“I’m still working out the details, but it’ll sure be a kick in Special Inspector Burlington’s balls.”
“Which I’m guessing is a bonus?”
“No.” Frost’s smile turned cold. “A requirement.”
Cee Tee gave him a stern look. “You’re letting this shit get personal, boss.”
“Everybody has an assignment that ends up like this,” Frost mused, contemplating the situation. “I was a fool to think I was the exception all these years. Mine just came in my twilight.” He sighed and looked back over to Cee Tee. “You’re damned right it’s personal. I’m gonna finish this mission, and I’m walking away, Cee.”
“Aw, hell, boss. Everybody has a bad day.”
“I’ve had a good run. It’s time to let the young dogs like you run. I’m gonna ride off into the sunset, spend some time with Oksana. Maybe even plant a garden.”
Cee Tee chuckled and shook his head, and he stared at his screen. “I can’t see you growin’ shit.”
“I can’t either, but it’d be a nice change of pace … growing things instead of killing them.”
“You’ll grow bored very quickly.”
“Probably,” Frost shrugged. “In the meantime, find any chatter you can.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to pinpoint some, but in a city this size …”
Frost slapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
“This would be a good time to talk about a raise, considering everything that I’ve had to do on this assi—” He was interrupted by the roar of an aerocraft’s engines just outside.
Frost scowled at his comtech. “I bet that’s our new recruits.”
“Tact …” Cee Tee cautioned. “Remember, they’re the bosses’ pets.”
“Yeah, hopefully, the first time shots are fired, they’ll decide the climate in New York is much more preferable.” He nodded to Three. “Well, let’s go welcome them.”
Outside, the pilot was powering down the engines. From the room next door, Seven stepped out, his lacerations, burns and bruises freshly treated by the team medic. This time yesterday, the youngster had been cocky and boisterous. That was before his baptism of fire at the Spaceport Inn. After his first taste of combat, he was now quieter, the bravado tempered by pain and failure. Frost had seen it before. A young kid went into battle, and a wizened, icy-eyed veteran came out the other side.
The trio of mercs curiously observed the aerocraft, a beefy, black Mercedes Helimog parked beside one of their stealth craft. The gullwing doors raised, and the two occupants stepped out. Both wore black cloaks with large hoods that shrouded their faces in shadow. The driver was about six-feet-tall, and the passenger was gigantic. Not only was he well over seven feet, approaching eight, but he was almost twice as broad across the chest as a normal man.
“What the fuck is this?” Frost was puzzled by the two mysterious figures approaching. “We playing wizards and dragons or some shit?”
The two walked up to Frost and his companions. He could now make out the GenetX corporate logo on their cloaks. Still, he could see no faces, as both had their heads down.
“Mister Frost?” The smaller one spoke first.
“That would be me,” Forrest folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against his command unit. “And you are?”
“My name is Grant,” He turned to the towering figure, “and this is Sherman.”
Forrest turned to Three and laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Grant? Sherman?”
Three shook his
