“No.”
John swore. The rest of the trip passed in silence. When they arrived at the outpost, the two hopped out. John took out a machete from its sheath, and Fox took out an old revolver.
“Fox, why the hell do you still use those old slug shooters?”
“They work.”
“So do lasers. And what if you run out of bullets?”
“What if a laser runs out of charge?”
John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You can recharge a power pack. You can’t recharge bullets.”
Fox tried the door, but it was locked.
“Here, let me kick it,” John said. Fox leveled the revolver and shot the lock out. John swore loudly, flinched, and covered his ears. “Watch it! You know how much noise that makes? Another reason lasers are better.”
“Got the door open,” he said, ignoring John’s comment about lasers. “If I couldn’t bust down a door like this, there’s no way you could.” He pushed in the door and headed in.
“You could’ve cranked down a laser for precision,” John muttered.
“Why the hell would I want less power?”
“Maybe so it doesn’t tell everyone within ten miles where we are?”
They headed down into the basement and searched for the dead drop. John found it under the stairwell in a cardboard box that looked a little too new to fit in with the surroundings. Inside was a note that explained their mission.
John swore. “Nyriki Rocco. I’ve heard of this guy. He’s pretty good.”
“One of the best. And in a business with guys like you and me, that’s saying a lot.”
“So Hyperion wants Rocco alive. We have any tranqs?”
“I’ve got a couple. No gun though, we’ll have to stab him with them.”
“Great. Doesn’t say where he is though.”
“Says last they knew, he was headed to Whitethorn.”
“Yeah, but how long ago was that? And it’ll take a long time to get there anyway.”
“It’s a lead. We’ll have to set out immediately.”
“Right.” John took out a match, burned the note, then ground out the ashes with his foot.
***
The front door to the mayor’s house was guarded by two men. Rocco assumed that any other entrance would have at least one guard as well. And he had no idea how many might be inside. He waited in the hotel bar a few hours for the cover of night, planning as he ate dinner. The guard at the side door was the most isolated, so he could take him out and enter there. Then it was just a matter of getting into the office and searching for clues. Where those clues were, and in what form, and whether or not they even existed, remained to be seen.
After nightfall, he sneaked back to the mayor’s house. Once there, he climbed silently to the roof using a windowsill as a foothold, and crept to a spot above where one of the guards was stationed. The guard was pacing, un-alert, beneath him, apparently under the impression that no one was going to get into the mayor’s house. Rocco dropped down behind him. The guard heard the noise, but when he turned, Rocco put one hand over his mouth to prevent him from shouting, then jammed his forearm against his throat and pushed him up against the wall, suffocating him into unconsciousness. Rocco eased the body down, then listened for activity.
When he was sure no one had heard and coming to investigate, he checked the guard, who, besides a stun baton, was completely unarmed. Rocco then took out his pistol, lowered the power, and fired, carving a hole around the lock on the door. Burning through the wood and metal took much-needed time, and took his charge down to 20%.
The air in the house was thick and foul, as if Hal’s rotting corpse still resided somewhere inside. His heart raced. He checked every corner and every room, looking for guards inside; none were posted. Looks like they just want to give the illusion of security.
The last room he explored was the mayor’s office. Inside were a disheveled desk and a rotting bookshelf. All of the books, files, computers, and personal effects had been removed. Except for a wall mounted safe. Rocco doubted it had anything in it, but it was worth a try. His pistol didn’t have enough charge to cut a hole in it, and he didn’t know how to crack safes the old fashioned way with his ear. He could try setting his pistol’s power to full, hoping that a well-placed shot would blow the lock, but that would be too risky. The guards would probably hear, and the contents of the safe might be damaged.
He searched the entire room for a key or a code or something, but to no avail. Everything had already been cleared out. Except whatever was in the safe. He tried the old fashioned way, but couldn’t make any sense of the lock’s intricate clicking. He only had one option: the option that would alert the two guards. If they were smart, they’d call for backup before going in. If not, he could take them. Either way, he’d be leaving Whitethorn immediately, and since he didn’t know when the next train was coming, he’d be on foot. He’d have to be fast.
Not wasting time on getting the stun baton from the unconscious guard, he dialed the power up to 20%, leveled the pistol at the lock, and fired, hoping whatever contents inside would be undamaged. He strained his ears to hear over the sizzling flame and hissing metal, and heard doors opening and feet stomping. The safe was too hot to touch, so he decided to open it when he finished with the guards. He holstered his drained, smoking pistol, took out his short knife, and savagely kicked the desk, breaking off a leg. He took it as a blunt weapon just as the two guards came in, stun batons crackling with electricity.
The smell of hot steel clouded his senses. The guards charged. One swung his baton down. Rocco redirected with the desk leg and shoved the knife into the guard’s arm. With a cry of pain, he dropped the stun baton. Rocco kicked it away as the second man swung. Rocco raised his knife to block. Electricity surged through his body, contracting his muscles, conducted by the knife’s metal. He swung the desk leg, making contact with the second guard’s ear.
The shock had left him weak. The first guard, using the arm that had not been stabbed, swung his baton. Rocco ducked, then broke the desk leg in half on the guard’s wrist, causing him to drop the baton again. Rocco picked it up and shoved it in the guard’s chest. As he toppled, the other guard swung down on Rocco’s shoulder. The shock hurled him to the ground. The man rushed over to Rocco to subdue him. Rocco shoved the knife into his ankle, but the guard swung the baton at Rocco’s face, knocking him out.
* New installments of The Hyperion Estate appear every three weeks.
