Tara and Kyle should have already been there, having left our base before us so that we wouldn’t all arrive together. We followed the crowd, joining the impressive line within the roped-off barrier alongside the warehouse, into the main doorway, where we were inspected for weapons and urged through a metal detector.
I knew Liam had brought a gun with him. He and Mick had discussed Liam using some gadget that would keep it from setting off the metal detector, and the security guard hadn’t caught it in his inspection of Liam, which seemed a little handsy, the guy more interested in feeling my man up than searching for a weapon.
No, notmy man. Not yet.
After making it through security, we entered the main part of the club, brightly lit, music blasting as waiters and waitresses made their way through, offering the guests glasses of wine and hors d’oeuvres. It reminded me of some prestigious fundraiser, the sort where people with far too much money flocked to find an excuse for a party and a write-off. Didn’t seem like the sort of place where we’d be witnessing death matches.
“Interesting…”
“This is just a front for where the real party’s happening,” Liam explained. He checked his watch, which matched the ones the rest of us were wearing, synchronized for the execution of our mission. “We got a little time,” he added. “We’re gonna grab some drinks, but sip. No getting intoxicated on the clock.”
“Yes, sir.” Wouldn’t have dreamed of it.
We headed to the bar, and as we chatted and enjoyed cocktails together, I heard Tara in the earpiece I wore: “I’m in position.”
“Same here,” Kyle followed.
“We’re on the move,” Liam informed them, nodding to me. I followed him through the crowd to a door in the back, where a guard stood. He didn’t react as Liam and I moved past him.
“I’m in position too, if anyone gives a flying fuck,” Mick said, and I enjoyed a smile, detecting the playfulness in his tone.
The only light illuminating the stairwell came from the top of the stairs, so as we headed down, the light grew fainter. It was as though Liam and I were descending into hell, and considering the sort of enterprise the guys we were after were involved in, that didn’t seem far from the truth. At the bottom of the steps, we headed through a doorway on our left, then down a short hall, before arriving at a wide entryway.
In the center of the room, a chain-link dome cage surrounded a concrete slab that acted as a sort of stage. I figured this was where the match would be held. The basement was fairly high, allowing for a second level, where the box seats Tara was supposed to find were located. All the light was centered around the dome, preventing me from seeing very well into the boxes.
The club patrons, all in their fancy dresses and suits, surrounding this dome, seemed so out of place. This didn’t seem so much like a part of my life as something out of some fucked-up video game. Surely, these people belonged at a cocktail party, not a fucking death-match auction.
“They’re not fighting tonight, right? You said it was an auction.”
Liam appeared surprised by my question.
“Oh God, kid,” Kyle said over my earpiece.
Tara followed, “The auction involves a death match. The winner will be auctioned to an investor.”
The mere thought made me nauseous. I had a lot of ideas of what this would be like, but I didn’t think I would be witnessing a fight to the death that night.
“I don’t know why I assumed you’d know that,” Liam said. “I just…”
He seemed to be reviewing the conversations we’d had about it, mostly with the others, who already knew what all this was. But as he replayed the conversations we had, he must’ve realized he’d never mentioned that we’d actually be witnessing a fight.
“Okay, kids. Now’s not the time to get squeamish,” Kyle chimed in.
I took a breath as Liam set his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” I lied, glancing around with far more judgment at the people present, now that I realized what they were really there for.
Sick bastards.
Liam led us to a booth in the corner, where people lined up. He filled out a sheet, placing a bet on one of the names, but I couldn’t get a good look at it.
I could feel a cold sweat coming on. What was I doing in this place? Why had I thought it was a good idea?
The attendees smiled, laughed, drank away. They were carefree—at the expense of human life?
I scanned the room, and when I looked up, I noticed Tara in one of the boxes, a shaft of light catching her from the side. She wore a sleeveless yellow dress and a light-brown wig I’d seen her throw on before she headed out with Kyle.
“I see you at my twelve, Ty.” I almost made a jokey wave, when she said, “Swear to God, if you raise that hand, I’m going to cut it off myself.”
