Artemis was giddy once we were prepared to get on the job. It washisjob. He was the front guy, in charge, ready to give me my orders. I still drove the van though, listening to Finley’s instructions like he was the road assist, telling me the fastest route. It was a twenty-five minute drive from Red Hook to Long Island City.
“We’re going to arrive early,” Artemis said, looking through the file. “We’ve got time to case the place out. And then, we go in for the kill. This isn’t like those times we spent in Miami, we’re not trying to leave a paper trail.”
After all the cases we’d done together, getting evil people off the streets, I was somewhat impressed and glad Artemis was on board with actually ridding them for good, instead of letting them continue from behind bars.
“They’re arriving by van,” he added. “We have satellite pictures of the van, so we know the plates, and we’re following them through the city.”
“And why wasn’t this an active job?” I grumbled. “Seems like Mercy would have a hit out on this operation already.”
He shrugged. “It’s probably too small.”
It was what we’d always gone for, the smaller operations. Cutting them off at ankles rather than going right for the head—which they would always regrow. I think Reaper’s words had gotten to him when they met, telling him he’d done nothing. It was impossible to tell, I’d muzzled him with instructions back then—forcing him into submission. For what happened, it was worth it.
“Three men in the building from heat radar,” Finley said. “There’s a boiler room which could be used to start a fire.”
“No,” I said. “We’re not getting into explosives. I’m not having you hurt. A slow fire, electrical.” We’d just had the conversation, I didn’t know why they were trying to change it.
“An explosion is a no go,” Art added. “Reports from the file say they were having some construction work. There should be wires exposed. We have lighters. And lighter fluid.”
It wasn’t my MO, I’d never set a fire, but if it’s what he wanted, I’d let him. “Main goal is getting those people off that van though,” I reminded them. Now I knew it was important why I was there. I had to keep them on track. “We’re almost there. Tell me every step we’re going to take, Art. Or I’ll turn the van around.”
“Jeez, don’t be a drama queen,” he giggled. “First step, scope. Second step, kill. Third step, make sure everyone is off the van, kill the driver. And—we’ve got to put the thumb drive in the computer. Then set the fire.”
It was good enough, but I knew he was just reading from the files.
***
The operation was taking place inside of a private postal service. They wereFly By Courier Services. It was a corner building with a large arch drive into the building for trucks and vans. We parked half a block away in the van after driving by it twice.
Still only three people inside, and the van with the people in was ten minutes away. Finley had access to their front door mech, which was mostly from unsecured devices. I didn’t know how, but something about waves—short signals, or whatever. All I knew was, he could get us into the building without any of their alarms going off.
We both had garment bags folded over our arms, concealing the Glock and end of the silencer. It was prettyinnovative, and I congratulated him on that, but we didn’t have too much time to gush over how proud I was of him.
It all went to plan.
Smooth. Art shot the first guy at the front desk, but only after he presented a gun. Bullseye.
Two voices in an office. He got the first guy behind the desk. The same guy from the image.
The third guy, dressed smart in a black suit with a darker shirt collar poking out. No tie. His face was familiar. He looked right at us.
“Nathaniel Blackwell the third,” Artemis said. “On your fucking knees.”
He laughed, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his suit patch pocket. “You know who I am,” he said. “I can give you anything you want in this world.”
Art shook his head. “You are an evil man,” he said, slowly, as if trying to find the words. “On your knees.”
Nathaniel placed a cigarette between his lips and Artemis shot it, with perfect precision, the bullet hole and the smashed cigarette impaled in the wall.
“I’d do as he says,” I grumbled, hoping a rougher voice would influence him.
His name was on my tongue. Thee was something familiar. I just didn’t know where it was from. I looked from him to Art, his finger was caressing the trigger as he smiled, his cheeks pink-red like he was holding something back.
“Who are you?” he asked. “If you know who I am, and how much money I have, you’d left me walk, and I won’t tell anyone what happened here today.”
“No,” Art said with a giggle. “I timed this so perfectly.” He snorted and as he did, another bullet came from his gun with a quiet thwip through the air, landing in Nathaniel’s knee. “You’re here to buyproduct.”
He immediately help both hands up, screaming inside of a closed mouth, teeth gritting together. “Fucker,” he grumbled. “Just tell me. Name your price. I’m good for him—I’m—I’m good for it.” He offered up on hitched breath.
