Death King

by Danielle L. Parker

Chapter 4

Jim Blunt, Captain of the starship Pig’s Eye, earns a living the hard way at the raw edge of human space. Caught between Earth’s long arm and the unwelcome attentions of humanity’s alien rivals, the Asp, the captain sometimes finds himself in more trouble than even an outlaw trader can handle.

Blunt heard a rustle in the darkness. The red end of a cigarette glowed briefly and then faded. The cigarette descended as his companion tapped it off.

“It’s started,” Foster’s deep voice murmured. He folded the plastic sheets of his newspaper. “It’s in the morning edition already. By heaven, it’s started. The Red Balloon was shot up in a drive-by at two a.m. That’s one of his places. Four street vendors were whacked, execution-style, a few hours later. Scherensky’s declared war!”

Blunt sipped his bitter brew. The dimly lit all-night coffee shop was nearly empty at four in the morning. Behind her glass counter, the young barista banged out the grounds from the espresso she had just made for him. The fishtailed female behind smiled her mysterious Mona Lisa smile.

“Maybe it was Scherensky. Remember, I talked to White and Mercudo too.” Blunt set down his paper cup. “And Schmidt,” he added as an afterthought. “But he tried to walk.”

The agent paused. For a moment his cigarette fixed in the air half-way to his mouth. “Schmidt’s dead,” he said at last. “Someone fished him and his bodyguard out of a dumpster yesterday. They’d been shot in the head. Some old .45.”

“Bitter stuff, this,” Blunt said, frowning at the paper cup in his hand. “I should’ve gotten a regular coffee. Except it wasn’t on the menu.”

After a longer pause, Foster tapped off his half-smoked tube. “OK. We need to talk about the endgame. You don’t have much time.”

“Tell me.” Blunt wadded his empty paper cup. “I’ve got enough of your stolen product to feed the sharks for six, maybe seven days, tops. Then they’re going to con this scam. And I’ll be dead.”

“Thanatos will bite,” Foster countered. “He can’t resist. No one’s broken his formula, ever. He’ll want to know where and who, pretty bad. That’s your in. Just don’t screw it up.” The agent stuck the end of his shrinking cigarette between his lips. “Remember you’ve got two goals, just two. Find out who this monster is. And most of all, find out where those factories are. We’ll blow his labs and chemists so high there won’t be two molecules to kiss goodbye!”

“Yeah? And if he realizes what we’re hawking is his own repackaged product?”

Foster grinned humorlessly. “Then you’re dead. We covered best as we could. So far as anyone knows, the Nautilus exploded due to an internal engine failure. Ship lost, crew lost, most important, cargo lost.”

Blunt tossed his cup into the trashcan. “There’s a simple way for him to find out who cracked his monopoly, Foster. Torture. Or drugs. Can’t say I find either scenario inspiring.”

The older man pinched out his cigarette in the foil ashtray. “It could go that way,” he replied at last. “It’s the risk you take. You want a suicide tooth? We can do that for you.”

Blunt returned a twisted smile as he reached for his coat. “Cashing out’s not my style,” he said. “Thanks for the java. You’ll be seeing me — or not.”

Foster offered a strong grip across the table.

“Stay alive, son. I’m not a praying man, but I’ll try.”

Proceed to Chapter 5...