A Reason for Living Part 17
Reap What You Sow
"Where's Septum?" Paul Carter asked noticing that Dorothy was alone.
Dorothy's startled reaction affirmed his suspicions that she had given the order to have him followed. It also confirmed his reservations concerning his part in the upcoming meeting. He locked the door against unwanted interruptions. It was time for a full account.
Dorothy shifted in her chair trying to hide her surprise at Carter's unexpected appearance. "He's gone to the loading bay to meet Hoffman. They should be back any minute."
"Why do I have the feeling I wasn't to be included in your deal with the German?"
"As soon as Hoffman arrived I was going to send someone to find you."
"Is that why you were having me followed?" Carter sneered.
Dorothy opened her mouth to reply but Carter cut her off. "No more lies! I'm asking the questions now and I want the truth." he stepped forward then stopped a few feet from the desk. "Did you honestly think you could fool me as easily as Khushrenada? Did you believe I am that stupid?"
Dorothy's eyes flashed, "Treize Khushrenada deserves whatever happens to him and his precious business. I've put five years into this company. For the last two years I've virtually ran it while he flew all over the world partying and skiing or spending weeks on that damned sail boat.
"I've done all the work, took care of all the problems. Never once has that arrogant ass offered the praise my efforts merit or given proper acknowledgement or thanks. This year, ever since he starting whoring with Merquise, he hardly notices me at all."
Dorothy leaned forward, her voice tight with resentment. "He even had the nerve to take full credit for a multi-million dollar development agreement with the Colonial Shuttle Line that I personally handled from its conception until the signatures were penned on the contract.
So I decided that it was time I got something for myself. Don't you think it's amusing?" Her eyes brightened with satisfaction. "I used Treize's resources, his connections. Even the trucks sitting in the loading bay belong to him. I developed a system that makes anything else that Khushrenada Electronics ever produced outdated and obsolete and I did it right under his pompous nose."
Carter displayed a furrowed frown. "Then somewhere along the line you decided you didn't want to share the wealth with Septum or me." he stated hoarsely, "Remember, darling, you didn't put this plan together alone."
"Septum?" Dorothy laughed out loud, "I only brought him in for his muscle, to keep the workers in line. He'll get his promised percentage and that's all."
"Don't give me that shit." Carter declared, "The only person who's coming out on top in this deal is you. What were you planning to do let Septum get rid of me, then get rid of Septum and keep everything for yourself?"
Dorothy's temper flared to the boiling point. "You men are all alike, "she hissed through clenched teeth.
Below Carter's line of sight she slowly pulled back the desk drawer. "Men think that the whole world revolves around their whims and wishes." She reached inside the drawer, her hand closed around a small but deadly revolver. "Paul you are no better." she declared sliding her finger over the trigger.
"You think because you have a cock that you can work with Hoffman better than I can. Hell, you even thought you could set up a deal on the side. Yes, I know about the double cross you and Welige were planning."
Carter's eyes widened. "Marquis and I? How? Who told you?" he asked in rapid secession. Carter had a bad feeling something had indeed happened to Marquis and that same sinking feeling was telling him he could be the next person slated for a mysterious disappearance.
Nervously he glanced back through the door's glass panel expecting Hoffman and Septum to appear at any second. He swallowed to push down the dry lump caught in his throat. Secretively his hand slid under his coat.
Dorothy had come too far to lose now. The revolver's barrel rose over the desk's edge. The hollow end centered on its target, firm and steady. "How do I know about you and Marquis?" There was an unnaturally calm tone in her voice. "Why, darling, he told me just before he died."
The gun came forward aimed at Carter's blind side. As it cleared the desktop Dorothy's bracelet struck the side. The charms, each one marking a significant event in her life, clanged loudly in the tense silence. The jingle multiplied, its ringing in Carter's ears prompted him to pivot in place.
In the same instant Carter saw the revolver, the pistol sprang from his belt. A shot spilt the air with a shattering blast. The deafening bang reverberated through the room repeating its deadly burst then faded away into a fatal echo.
Dorothy's body sat upright. The motion wasn't a violent jerk, more of an altered displacement. Her arm when limp, her hand hit the desk dislodging the unfired gun. Then she slowly settled into a slumped recline as if she was merely resting. The only hint that something was wrong was the scarlet suffusion staining her blouse.
Carter went pale. Trembling hands covered his face. "Dorothy," he whispered as he fought the urge to be sick. "I never meant for it to end this way."
Carter wrapped his arms around his quivering body and closed his eyes. He remembered how Marquis Welige wanted out of the increasingly dangerous situation. He recalled how Marquis had come to his office terrified of Septum and begging him to intercede with Dorothy. When Carter talked to Dorothy he had only suggested that Marquis be watched. He never believed his colleague would be harmed, never dreamed he would be killed. Now Carter held himself responsible for two lives lost.
Suddenly panic replaced the remorse. Septum and Hoffman were surely on their way to the office and Carter knew that he couldn't be discovered there.
Knowing Septum's wicked nature Carter doubted that Dorothy's death would cause any concern. Septum would simply view her demise as one less person with which to share the spoils. But Carter was also positive that the murderous mercenary would not think twice about improving his earnings by eliminating one more partner in crime.
Now nothing matter but getting out alive. The deal...the money...nothing was more important than Carter's survival. He paused for one mournful glimpse of Dorothy's ashen face and the bright crimson seeping down her front. "I'm sorry." he sighed then unlocked the door and ran for his life.
*********
A black limousine parked by the loading bay doors. Headlights went dark. Hoffman stepped inside and quickened his pace. The ever-present bodyguards followed after their boss.
Septum met the trio beside the first truck. "Herr Hoffman." he nodded to "The Fox".
"Is everything ready?" Hoffman inquired not wanting to waste any unnecessary time.
"Ready when you are."
"Where is Fraulein Catalonia?"
"Waiting in her office but something tells me she'll be waiting a long time." Septum declared stepping around the truck. His foot slipped under the bumper dangerously close to the explosive's trip wire. "She believes the meeting is set." he finished, moving away from the unseen trigger.
Hoffman walked along the truck casting a fleeting glance at the Khushrenada Electronics logo painted on the side. "I still think she and Carter should be out of the picture permanently, they both know too much."
"They know nothing." Septum growled, "Besides who can they go to when they find themselves as betrayed as Khushrenada? They can't tell anyone without having to explain their part.
Septum threw his head back and laughed, "My only regret is not being able to see the bitch's face when she finds out we made off with her property. I've sent for the drivers. It won't be long now."
Hoffman lit an expensive cigar. The blue smoke clung to the stale air. "Did you ever discover who was nosing around in Hamburg?" he wondered but only as an afterthought. The entire incident didn't seem important now, not so near to finalizing their plans.
"I tailed the man to the waterfront but he went into a tavern before I was able to clearly see his face." Septum answered with the same trivial attitude. "The guy met briefly with a local resident then they left together. I began to follow but a damn drunk got in my way. Later there were rumors about trouble on a tramp steamer but nothing was substantiated."
Hoffman blew out a wispy column of smoke that mingled with the cloud floating above his head. "My contact reported that an IPB agent named Heero Yuy was seen in Hamburg about the same time as your mysterious stranger."
An odd grin flickered over Septum's lips then he shook his head negatively. "Yuy? No, I killed him last year in Bolivia. It wasn't him unless your contacts have started seeing ghosts."
"First that reporter then the stranger in Hamburg and maybe a ghost but it makes no difference." Hoffman declared, "Neither the living nor the dead will stop us now."
Septum sighed impatiently and checked his watch. "Where are the drivers?"
*********
The distant noise grew louder. The steady hum seemed to originate from a door at the corridor's end. Heero's right hand tightened on the Beretta, his left hand closed around the doorknob. Duo took his usual position on the hinged side, a move that was accomplished with practiced ease.
Dim light crept into the hall. The shaft widened as the door opened back. Keeping low Heero inched his head through the crack. A quick scan then a silence signal for Duo to follow. Once inside the chilly concrete room the agent and his partner found the source of the monotone drone.
Occupying most of the floor space, a large rectangle transformer sat beside metal stairs connected to a platform that rose twenty feet above the vibrating collection of electric circuits.
A wire mesh "cage" protected the high voltage machine. Six round insulated lines were attached to exposed conductors mounted on the side. A massive trunk cable snaked up from the transformer's top to two transfer boxes on the platform. At the room's opposite end a single square of light reflected across a narrow access hall.
Heero thought he heard voices but the transformer's din made it difficult to be sure. Side by side Heero and Duo made a dash for the stair's nearest side and took advantage of the limited cover.
From their shadowy location they could see a door at the hallway's end. "Shipping Bay" was imprinted in large red letters. "I think we have come full circle." Heero whispered, his voice barely heard over the constant hum. "Stay here." he ordered.
Duo nodded that he understood. 01 started forward. Duo crouched by the stairs feeling more anxious the further Heero move away. A loud pop caused Duo to jump.
The sound was surly a shot. Where it came from was unclear but it didn't seem to be directed at him or Heero. Then nothing, not another keen crack. No shouts, no voices raised in anger or alarm, just the steady hum of raw energy.
Heero dropped to one knee as the square of light wavered on the wall. The door suddenly burst opened. Paul Carter rushed forward so absorbed in his need to flee that he charged into the room's center before catching sight of Heero. In blind panic Carter's pistol discharged twice before he had time to aim properly. Heero rolled to his left dodging the wild shots. Both bullets traveled harmlessly over Heero's head. However, the solid projectiles' lofty flights ended in the transformer's heart.
A thousand brilliant points of energy and light flared up from the connectors. Wires sizzled; the stench of burnt circuits filled the air. A reddish glow brightened where the cable's connection had blown apart.
*********
In the bay Septum and Hoffman noted the dimming lights. A backup generator counteracted the browning affect but the cause in the power drop remained a mystery.
"You two," Hoffman called to his bodyguards, "go see what's happening with the lights." he ordered.
Both burly men nodded "yes" and started off across the bay.
*********
Spewing sparks forced Heero backward. Before he could recover his bearings Carter made a straightway path for the stairs. Heero sprang to his feet and caught up to Carter just as he started up the steps. He aimed the Beretta but the transformer's far corner shielded his intended target. Running around the massive machine that continued to belch out hot starbursts, Heero found that his upward gaze was fixed squarely at the pistol's hollow end.
Carter leaned over guardrail leveling the pistol's blackened barrel in line with the pursuing agent's head. Heero skidded to an abrupt halt. Ignoring the sparking and heat Heero flattened against the protective cage and did his best to become the smallest target possible. But at that close range, even with Carter's inexperience, Heero doubted that he would miss.
Every nerve ending tingled awaiting the pistol's report. Carter used a double-handed grip to steady his shot but the depressed trigger only produced a sharp click. Whether the weapon had run out of ammo or was jammed, it appeared that Agent 01 had been given a temporary reprieve.
Carter pulled the trigger again in a vain attempt to correct the misfire. Again the hollow click caused Heero to flinch and pray that he had not become an unwilling player in an impromptu game of Russian Roulette.
Heero always believed that a person made his or hers own luck and he had often bolstered that belief at the gaming tables. But the longer he had participated in the unpredictable game called espionage, the more he's realized that Lady Luck had a will of her own.
The trigger struck once more with the same fruitless results. Carter's lips drew into a scowling frown. In one last desperate act he hurled the useless gun at Heero hoping that it would somehow compensate for the weapon's failure to secure his escape.
Heero ducked. The discarded pistol clanged on impact with the floor. Advancing two steps at a time Heero quickly closed the distance to the retreating gunman. Atop the platform his fingers snagged Carter's coattail digging in enough to get a firm fistful of fabric.
Carter felt the catching tug seconds before a jerk stopped him in his tracks. The Beretta leveled off and Heero had no dispute concerning its firing condition. Unfortunately Heero's grip was tenuous at best. Carter twisted sideways. His fist, glancing off Heero's shoulder, broke the agent's hold and made both men unbalanced. Weaving wobbly they bumped the wall then spun together towards the guardrail attached above the hissing transformer.
Heero's back struck hard against the railing's center support post. Below circuits sputtered and crackled. One severed wire twitched wildly in the air. His back bowed painfully as the post's top pressed into his spine. His boots dig desperately for some resistance on the smooth concrete floor.
Carter's forearm fell across Heero's chin and pushed backward. His free hand formed a fist. Heero threw up a high block successfully repelling the punch. Folding his hand over the Beretta Carter slammed Heero's hand down on the rail.
The stinging impact jarred the automatic loose. The dislodged gun disappeared into the transformer's glowing core which, it turn, belched out showers of blue sparks.
"Damn you Carter." Heero hissed as he straightened against impaling post, "That was my favorite gun."
*********
Duo stood a measured distance away from the arcing currents jumping from wires and spiking from the trunk cable like feverish lightning. With each disrupted discharge hot bits of molten metal and other ignited particles erupted with a deafening bang.
But his concern was not the unleashed raw energy or its lethal voltage. Fear for Heero's safety and the panic-stricken feeling of helplessness made him oblivious to the danger. He rushed to the stairs set on joining 01 in his fight but another powerful explosion sprayed through the air causing Duo to reel backwards. His boots tangled, his shoulder smacked the mesh wire and the odor of singed hair invaded his nostrils as he hit the floor.
*********
Carter continued to push raising up on his toes for better leverage. By degrees his forearm slipped to Heero's throat. And to add to the ugly situation the bolts holding the top rail in place began to warp and groan under the blistering heat's assault. With each jolt from Carter and Heero's struggle the threads stripped further. The holes enlarged with each tearing twist.
Carter pushed again. Pressure wrung the damaged fasteners to the breaking point. The rail gave with a grating creak then caught with a sickening snap. How much longer would the bolts hold? Could the stressed rail endure much more punishment?
Heero planted the heel of his hand under Carter's nose. Ligaments stretched to their limits and muscles burned but gradually 01's opponent began to lose ground. Heero steadied his balance, braced his back and landed an elbow along Carter's cheekbone.
Both combatants stumbled towards the wall just before the weakened bolts gave way. The railing's crosspiece wrenched free. The metal rod struck the platform with a sharp ring then flipped over the side. Deep inside the transformer's smoldering circuits a muffled explosion split an insulator. The crimson glow intensified. Orange fingers of flames curled up from the hellish depths.
Infuriated by yet another failure Carter threw a wild punch that barely brushed Heero's chin. 01 answered with a more solid strike to Carter's jaw that sent the stunned man teetering back several steps.
Heero's blow had the desired effect. The physical pain heightened the gnawing agony in Carter's soul. Pangs of remorse over Marquis and Dorothy's deaths triggered the total derangement of his tortured mind. The all-consuming guilt culminated in seething madness. His dazed eyes reflected the fiery flickering from below but they also displayed the crazed glare of uncontrolled rage.
Heero sucked in a labored breath. As a combination of hot air and choking smoke seized his airway, his chest wheezed. Watery eyes blurred his vision of his angry adversary. He shook his head to clear out the cobwebs clogging his brain.
With a guttural growl Carter mounted a headlong charge. All Heero saw through his compromised sight was an indistinct outline seconds before a wrathful fist tried its best to decapitate the Japanese agent.
The powerful punch snapped Heero's head sideways. His shoulder brushed along the ragged edge left by the rent railing. His jacket and shirt ripped and the unprotected flesh beneath was cut as cleanly as a knife through butter. Pain also sliced along the scarlet gash sending queasy waves crashing inside Heero's gut.
At the last moment Heero rotated his torso and managed to throw an arm around the unstable support post but the smooth surface offered no handhold to halt his toppling over the platform. His hip slammed into the post's base, his legs slid through the gap in the railing.
Heero franticly clutched at the post, clawed at thin air, reached for anything that would check his plunge into the portals of hell blazing below. Heero's dead weight drew out his muscles until they felt as if they would tear in two.
The pressure pressing his arm against the post was quickly diminishing the blood flow and rapidly deteriorating his sensory responses. A tingle spread down his arm to his fingertips and he didn't know how much longer he could withstand the impairing numbness.
Heero's arm slipped from the bent of his elbow to his hand. Finally, with great effort, his other hand clasped over the first to reinforce his tenuous hold. For a fleeting moment he had a good grip but the platform's painted walls had no toeholds to help him gain the advantage over the fire licking at his heels.
Sweaty hands refused to stick to the slick post. His knuckles went white as he pulled harder. Now his boots dangled dangerously near the swirling flames and funnels of bluish smoke snaked around his legs. The superheated air surged over him, tearing his eyes and searing his lungs.
Carter leaned over the struggling agent. His madness-enlarged pupils mirrored Heero's terror. A maniacal smile curled up his lips. He could read the distress on 01's face, sense the pain and panic running through his body.
Carter gazed down into Heero's horror-struck eyes. "What a pitiful end." he sneered with satisfaction, "I would have expected you to mount more of a challenge."
Heero gritted his teeth as he fought to save himself from a fiery death but he would be damned if Carter would hear him beg for mercy. A thousand curse-laden responses rippled across his mind but his over-heated confusion refused to translate the replies into words.
It seemed that Paul Carter had won after all. He might have lost his part in the deal with Hoffman but he had punished Dorothy for her betrayal and now he would also send the interfering IPB agent into the Grim Reaper's deadly embrace. He picked up long spanner wrench that weighted at least three pounds and proudly took on his role as judge, jury and executioner.
Raising the assurance of his victory over his head Carter narrowed his insane sight. "Prepare to go to hell!" he yelled.
The overburdened lights grew dimmer as his shadow elongated over his prey.
TBC...
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