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Authors: Patrick E. McLean

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BOOK: Hostile Takeover
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If he hadn't been interrupted, he might have seen right through the facade of the Peppermint Hippo. Seen that it wasn't fun, that it was just the illusion of fun wrapped in money. But before his brain could ruin things for him, a man wearing a suit as black as the night tapped him on the shoulder.

"Jeeze, Daniel, I thought you guys never stopped working!" Topper said to the Chief Adjustor. Daniel's expressionless face did not change. "I wasn't even sure you guys were human anymore. C'mon lemme buy you a drink and a whore," Topper said, happy to have someone to perform for.

"He needs you."

He could only mean Edwin. Topper was glad to be wanted, but had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Is Edwin okay?" he said, struggling to climb out of his special chair.

"We captured PB."

"The plumber? You got the plumber! Hey, EVERYBODY, we got the PLUMBER!" The darkened ecosystem gave a weak cheer. Not because they cared, but Topper was always shouting crazy shit at the top of his lungs, after which he usually bought a round of drinks.

Daniel said, "Edwin has requested your presence as he deals with the... plumber."

Topper inhaled the rest of his drink and slapped Daniel on the ass. "C'mon, Colorado, let's make some noise." The man in the black suit followed the dwarf out of the bar and watched him make his sad, fake farewells to pouting dancers who really didn't care.

As Daniel drove, Topper stood in the front seat. He was eager, and more than a little afraid, to see what would come next. The ride was just long enough for the little man to sober up. Topper had been operating on such a well-established cycle of hangover and binge that his tiny system became cranky when it didn't get its medicine. He knew better than to ask the silent man driving the car if there was a minibar. When he asked him to stop at a liquor store, Daniel did not respond.

Eventually, Topper lay down in the back and took a nap. But when he felt the car leave the pavement and wallow along a snow-covered gravel road, he jumped back into the front seat.

"You're not taking me out here to whack me, are ya?" Topper asked the Adjustor, putting as much of a laugh into his voice as he could. Daniel kept his eyes on the road and did not answer.

They rounded a bend in the road and Topper was relieved to see a number of cars parked around a concrete facade built into the side of a hill. The structure was massive, without windows, and had only one small door in the bottom. The door was open and light poured out into the night. Daniel exited the car without saying a word and walked to the door. Topper scrambled on his little legs to keep up.

"What is this place?" Topper asked.

"Part of an abandoned nuclear power plant. They started construction and never finished. The idiot in spandex attacked the coal plant we insure on the other side of the hill."

"So what are we doing here?" Topper asked.

"You'll see."

Inside, many Adjustors and a team of men in jumpsuits formed a semi-circle around something Topper couldn't see. There were a lot of men in black suits. This had to be every Adjustor that Omdemnity had. Topper has no idea there were so many. Above them all he spied Edwin's head.

"Edwin! Ed-WIN!" Topper cried, his words making a cloud of white steam in the cold air. He shoved his way through the crowd. "Make way, PRESIDENT of VICE coming through!" When he broke through to the center he saw PowerBoy still wrapped the wire mesh. Topper walked over to him and said, "Looks like you picked the wrong day to be a plumber, hunh?" Then he turned to Edwin. "Hiya, E. I'd ask you how's tricks, but I can see from this that they are effective."

"Who are you?" PowerBoy demanded of Edwin. "What is this? What are you going to do to me?"

Topper kicked PowerBoy across the mouth. "Do you MIND? I'm trying to talk to my friend here. Gag 'im boys!" No one moved to comply with Topper's command. A vague air of embarrassment seemed to hang over the crowd. "So E, what's the play?"

"We're going to send a message, Topper."

"A message? What do you mean?"

"Yeah," asked PowerBoy, "what do you mean?"

“We're going to kill you," Edwin said to PowerBoy.

"Jeeze, E, don't you think that's a little harsh? I mean, and you know how I hate to be the guy on the side of reason, but that's a little much. Why don't we just take some compromising pictures of him with farm animals or something."

"No, Topper, that would be silly."

"What's wrong with silly?" Topper asked, "That's the problem with all you guys. You're never silly!"

"It is a serious business we have undertaken, Topper." Edwin said. "And once begun, we must see it through to the end."

"But killing, I mean, E, it lacks style," Topper pressed, not at all comfortable with the look in Edwin's eye.

PowerBoy took this dissent in the ranks as his cue to chime in, "You can't kill me. That would make you just a murderer."

Edwin frowned at PowerBoy. "Actually, no. That would make me a competent and thorough executive."

"What?"

"That would make me the man who hired the best person for the job and then supervised the job for quality control," explained Edwin. The crowd of men in black suits opened and Jerry was pushed to the front. His suit was torn and Topper could see that Jerry had been crying.

"Jer? Are you okay?" Topper asked. He whirled on PowerBoy. "Did you hurt my friend Jerry? You shouldn't have done that plumbah! Jerry is a nice MAN!" Topper punctuated his sentence with a kick.

Daniel walked over to Jerry and unshipped a large semi-automatic pistol from underneath his left armpit. He cocked it and handed it to Jerry. "Shoot him," was all he said.

Jerry looked at Edwin, then back at Topper.

"Edwin, what's going on here?" Topper asked.

"Penance, Topper. This man abandoned his duties when the company needed him most."

"What do you mean? You mean Christmas Eve? Edwin, I let him go. Me. It's my fault."

Edwin looked at Jerry. "Shoot him."

PowerBoy pleaded with Jerry, "Please don't. You don't have to do this."

Very quietly, Daniel said, "Yes, you do. You have children."

Jerry looked back with wide-eyed horror and comprehension. Then he looked to Edwin. "Mr. Windsor, please, I had no idea I would offend you so—"

Edwin smiled a cold smile, "It's all right Jerry. Do this and all is forgiven."

Jerry raised his hand. The gun shook wildly as he struggled to point it in the general direction of PowerBoy. Topper waddled away from the immobilized hero with surprising speed.

PowerBoy pleaded, "Please, no. Think about what you are doing." Jerry couldn't bring himself to look directly the man he was going to shoot. He turned his head away.

A thrill of anticipation, an echo of sacrificial rites from darker times, coursed through the crowd of men in black suits.

BANG.

The first shot went wide and ricocheted in the confined space. There was a wet thock as the bullet came to rest in one of the men wearing jumpsuits. "Aw, crap," he said as he collapsed to the floor.

Daniel walked forward and guided Jerry's hand to the correct aim. Jerry said, "No. Please."

PowerBoy said, "Don't!"

Daniel said, "Squeeze."

BANG.

The gun jumped and PowerBoy flopped dead on the floor.

There was a collective sigh… of relief? Of satisfaction? Of vengeance? Whatever it was, it rippled through the hollow men assembled in that cold concrete building. Topper didn't like it.

In a daze, Jerry stumbled over to where PowerBoy lay dead in the net. In shock, he stared down at the body. "I... I killed him?"

Edwin said, "You did, and well done." Edwin nodded to Daniel. The man removed the gun from Jerry's shaking hand and gave it to Topper. Topper was surprised at its warmth.

"Henh? What do you want me to do with this?"

Shoot him," said Edwin.

"Okay," said Topper. BANG. The gun barked fire and jumped in Topper's hand. A bullet tore into the already lifeless corpse of PowerBoy. "That was pointless, but kinda fun."

"Wrong ‘him.’"

At the same time, Topper and Jerry realized what Edwin meant. Topper could see the horror flood Jerry's face as the same horror filled his heart. Edwin had to be kidding. But he had never known Edwin to joke around about anything.

"BUT YOU SAID!" shrieked Jerry.

"Calm down, Jerry," said Topper, "I'm not gonna shoot you. Seriously, Edwin, you gotta be kidding, right?"

"I am not," said Edwin. The men in black suits pressed in closer around him. The smell of old concrete filled his nostrils as the room seemed to fold inward. Topper could feel the hunger of the crowd. The savage anticipation of blood. A demand that the rite be completed.

"So, what, I shoot him and the next guy shoots me? And the guy after him and the guy after him?" Topper joked with a bravado he didn't feel. "You brought a lotta guys, E, but sooner or later somebody's gonna catch on."

"No, Topper, you shoot him and that's the end of it."

"Look, he was just doing what he was told. What I told him to do. Your problem is with me, Edwin."

"No, Topper, it's not your fault. He was the one who made the mistake of listening to you."

"What's this mistake bullshit? I'm the President of Vice, I outrank him."

"I expect more from my Adjustors than I would from a normal employee." Topper looked around the room and was stunned to find that all of the remaining Adjustors were okay with this. Some were nodding even. There was no pity for Jerry. In their savage world he had been tested and found wanting. "And your title is more honorary than anything else."

"Honorary? Honorary? Sounds like you are forgetting a couple of things, Mr. Paralysis of Analysis. You wouldn't even be in a position to give out titles if it wasn't for me. Who risked his ass to bag the Cromoglodon? Hunh? Who's the guy who put the fear of God and crushed testicles in the first twenty guys you shook down?

"And you bastards!" Topper said, whirling on the Adjustors. "Sure, you think you're bad men, but you gotta check the policy manual before you get to do any of those bad things. Observing protocols. Playing by the rules. Well, I don't have any rules. You want to see a bad man, do ya? You're all a bunch of sheep."

One of the Adjustors in the front row snickered at Topper's rant. He walked to him and asked. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Before the man could answer, Topper slammed the heavy weight of the pistol into his crotch. The Adjustor collapsed into a fetal position on the floor, moaning in pain.

"That's what I thought you said. Okay, any of you other assholes got a question?"

None of them moved.

"Okay, then. Jerry, c'mon, we're getting out of here."

BANG.

Jerry fell to the floor. Topper froze, wide-eyed. He turned slowly and saw Daniel pointing a handgun directly at him. The black hole of the barrel seemed like it was big enough to swallow the whole world. Topper let his arm drop so his pistol rested on the floor. No one was more surprised at this than Topper. He always thought he was the go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory kind. He heard himself, as meek as a lamb, asking, "E? Is this really how I go out?"

"Daniel, put the gun away," Edwin said in a tone of voice that suggested he found all of this tiresome. Edwin walked over to his friend. "No, Topper. This is not how you go out. But there are rules. And they apply to everyone. And now they apply to you most of all. Do you understand?"

Topper swallowed and chose his next words very carefully. "Yeah, Edwin. I understand.”

"Good. Supervise the men as they clean up the mess." Edwin turned and walked out into the night.

CHAPTER TEN

The interrogator pushed a plastic cup filled with water across the table. Hard as he tried to see the man behind the questions, Topper could only make out his hand and a little bit of his sleeve. Topper drank greedily, slurping and spilling a little bit. The water rolled off the skintight, unflattering material of his costume. When he was done he wiped at the corner of his mouth with a bit of his torn cape.

Topper coughed and continued, "I mean what the hell? Who was this guy? This wasn't Edwin. Edwin would never kill anybody. Enslave them and work them to death, maybe, but kill? No, it just wasn't efficient. So the next day I ask him about it. I figure he's calmed down, y'know? Hard to tell with that guy, he's always so friggin calm. But I thought he might feel different.

"Nah. He tells me that the rules are different now. He has to keep the rabble in line. He has to let them know. He tells me this story about Genghis Khan and the uh, uh, uh"

"Mongols?"

"Oh, so you've heard of them. Yeah, anyway, Genghis Khan sends a buncha guys into the Middle East. They trot up to the gates of Baghdad on their ponies and say, 'Open up, please.' The, uh, Baghdaddies or whatever, take a look at this army and say 'screw off!' Then the Mongols knock the gate in and wipe out the whole city. They kill absolutely everybody.

"I'm like, gee, that sounds a little harsh. Edwin says, but wait there's more. After killing everybody, they saddle up and ride their ponies to another city. Knock knock. Who's there? Mongol. Mongol who? We're gonna Mongol your whole friggin' family if you don't let us in!

"Well, once again they say, screw off. So, same trick, Mongols kill everybody. And I mean everybody, men, women, children, houseplants, everything dead. I'm like E? That sounds like a lotta work. They gotta be tired right?

"No, says Edwin, they ride on to the third city. And the third city is like, 'Hey guys, c'mon in. Whatever you need.' And nobody ever attempts to resist them again. That was his point, it was efficiency on a bigger scale. Uh, uh, Economies of Scale is what he said."

"And what did you think?" asked the voice in the dark.

"Oh, c'mon! Killing Jerry? It was the wrong thing to do. And I'll tell you. All those Adjustors. I could see it on their faces. Sure, they loved Edwin, but they knew, right? The whole time they're thinking, maybe next time it's me. It's one thing to have a fanatical drive—but he can't expect everybody (and by ‘everybody’ I mean ‘anybody else’) to have that kinda drive.

"And that's when I get it. Right then and there. I mean, I knew: somebody has got to stop this guy. Somebody has got to free these poor people. And that somebody is me. I gotta be the hero. Jeeze..." Topper shook his head from side to side.

"Jeeze what?"

"Well naturally, imagine my surprise, right? I mean, I turn out to be the good guy! I mean, after all this time, it's me? Little old me? 'Cause clearly, the tall guy is right off his frighteningly large-scale rocker. And I can see it. More importantly, I can see them. All these people. The closest thing to a family I've ever had. I mean sure, they're a shitty family right? But that's everybody's family. And these people they're hurting. I can feel their pain."

"What did you do then?"

"I was afraid. Look, I'm a lotta things. But Edwin? You gotta understand. He was the smartest, most thorough guy I've ever met. Genius doesn't even come close to describing what this guy is capable of." Topper hung his head and looked at his pudgy little stomach for a moment, "Was capable of. He was Edwin Windsor. And I'm just me. How was I supposed to outwit a mastermind? Overcome him? It's ridiculous. And worst of all, how was I supposed to do it without him knowing? Without getting myself killed? 'Cause believe me, sunshine, subtle ain't my strong suit.

"So I asked myself, what would Edwin Windsor do? What genius move would he come up with? Untraceable, sinister, elegant. What could I do that he would never in a million years think came from me? How do I get somebody else to do what I need done, without them knowing about it."

"That sounds like Windsor."

"He called it the Richelieu Gambit, after some French guy. Seems that this one time when France didn't have much of an army, this Richelieu got somebody else to start a fight with his enemy. I dunno, must have been the Germans right? Aren't they always the bad guys? But the point is, why fight a battle when you can get somebody else to fight it?"

"So what did you do?"

"It's not what I did, sunshine. It's what I undid. You know how you keep somebody in a coma? And before you answer, it's not 'bash them in the head with a hammer every once in a while to make sure they stay down.' That's what I thought, but I was wrong. You give them a drug, a steady drip of it, every day. The beauty part is, you can just slip it into their saline and nobody ever knows, or checks. If you've got 'em in your private hospital, well, forget about it. You can keep somebody on mothballs for as long as you want.

"As long as they get their drip, they're under. And when you stop giving it to them, then they wake up."

"Undid?"

"Yeah. I changed somebody's prescription."

"I don't get it."

"I pulled on one tiny little thread and the whole thing unraveled."

BOOK: Hostile Takeover
13.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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