Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 5. Twin Vengeance

            I woke up again on the couch of a new place, somewhere I’d never been before. Another apartment in the building, possibly above Baroque’s. I looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings carefully, noting Urban sitting quietly. He was staring straight at me, cleaning the parts of his gun without looking at it.

            “So, it seems we have a problem, Mr. Crowe.”

            I tried to get up but let out a groan instead. My shoulder was bandaged, the pain was a new idea. Usually, I drugged things like this away.

            “I’ve taken the liberty of having you patched up and sober. I need you very level-headed to explain what happened earlier. I take it you have a few things to tell me, Mr. Crowe?”

            “Like what?”

            “Like how the hell one of my top guys walks out from a simple job with a hole in his chest after spending two hours down there, for starters.”

            “We fought.”

            “For two fucking hours? Who the hell do you think you’re kidding?”

            “We warned you.”

            “Fuck that.” He was growing impatient with me. I knew why he was cleaning his gun, I knew why I was on the couch. There were probably guys in the wings waiting to cart off my dead body. And I couldn’t bring myself to sit up straight and level with him.

            “I want to know about our tenant downstairs.”

            “What is there to tell?”

            “How the hell he puts a hole in someone as talented as yourself.”

            “He gave me a message for you.”

            “Did he?” Urban’s eyes brightened, his ear peaked with curiosity. “Well?”

            “He said to tell you that the Horsemen are coming. And that the Ransoms will fall. And one’s already gone.”

            Urban jumped up. “Who the hell does he think he is, making such foolish proclamations and remarks! He’ll pay in blood.” Urban moved to run out the door.

            “I wouldn’t bother him if I were you.”

            “You’re not me.”

            “Right. But I’m him.”

            Urban wheeled around with his hand on the doorknob. He paced back to me quickly, grabbing me up from the couch and holding me against its’ back. I couldn’t move to defend myself, only weakly hold out an arm to try and pull him off.

            “Explain.”

            “Saint Crowe. Dean Crowe. Do the math.”

            He let go and backed off, eyes wide. He looked me up and down, racking his memory for past events. He was trying to compare me to the mental image of the lunatic downstairs. He knew without saying that we were a dead match. And in a few minutes, we might both be.

            “This is insane. I won’t stand for this.” He pulled the gun, checked the chamber and clicked the safety off.

            And I dared to laugh.