The Infiltrators (19 page)

In a series of movements so quick they
blurred together, Pitkins collapsed his sword to dagger size,
thrust it into his right forearm sheath, grabbed the man’s right
bicep with his right hand, and pulled him towards him, snaking his
left arm underneath and around the man’s arm, forming a shoulder
lock that he immediately used to slam the man’s face into the
bar.

Pitkins then spun the man around 360
degrees to check his surroundings and then backed the man towards
the wall so that he could survey the room without having to worry
about his flank.

“I’m gonna follow my gut on this one!”
Pitkins announced to the handful of patrons still in the room.
Those remaining were either too drunk to realize leaving might be a
good idea or too scared to try.

“Something tells me one of you knows
where Rucifus lives!! Or knows someone who does!”

Silence.

Pitkins began torquing on the man’s
shoulder.

“AHHHH!!” he screamed.

“Why don’t you go ask one of the
whores, mister?” a sincere voice asked, peeking out from behind a
deck of cards so that his eyes barely showed.

“Why would they know?”

“They say sometimes they get invited to
the boss’s house for parties.”

“Is that true?” Pitkins asked the
subdued bouncer.

“Yes.”

“You seem to know more than what you
were saying a moment earlier,” Pitkins said, tightening his torque.
“What happened to ‘I just started here last Monday’?”

“AHHH!” the man screamed.

Pitkins relieved the pressure slightly.
“You better do more than just scream, ‘cause you’re not getting up
till you tell me something.”

“The parties are well known. I’ve heard
the rumor. That’s all!”

“Careful who you work for next time.
Associating with bad people can be dangerous.” Pitkins ripped the
man’s shoulder out of socket and then threw him to the
ground.

Pulling out his right forearm sword
again, he headed upstairs.

He immediately disemboweled a bouncer
who leaped at him as he turned a corner on the stairs and kept
walking without pause.

He approached the first door and kicked
it open. A whore was in reverse cowgirl position and seemed to be
thrusting so hard the man’s hip bones were surely seconds from
shattering.

Yet it was a shout of rage from her
victim, rather than appreciation, that Pitkins was rewarded with as
he yanked her up into the air, put his arm around her throat, and
put his sword to her face.

“Tell me where Rucifus lives, or you’ll
be charging half-price from now on, if you keep your job at
all.”

The silence, rather than the typical
excuses, told Pitkins he was on to something. It seemed perhaps she
was weighing the lesser of two evils.

“If it’s Rucifus that’s got your
tongue, you just put it right back in your mouth and start talking.
You help me find her, and you’ll never have to worry about her
harming a hair on your head.”

Pitkins pressed the blade against the
flesh a little, but not enough to cut it.

“TWO SECONDS!” he shouted.

He felt warm tears tickle his left
forearm, which was around her neck, but Leol was holding the reins,
and Pitkins’ heart was as frozen as an iceberg.

“Tears won’t help you with me, lady,
not when Rucifus has my wife!”

“Find Rose.”

“WHO?!”

The prettiest ten percent or so of the
girls had been to Rucifus’s parties, but most of these were held at
lavish hotels that had been built in the last year or two due to
the economic boom caused by the drug money. An elite handful had
also been to several of Rucifus’s luxurious apartments.

But the rumor passed around in soft
whispers amongst the bordellos was that only Rose had ever gone to
Rucifus’s mansion and lived to tell about it. She had made the
mistake of telling her best friend, Heather, who in turn told her
best friend, Marie, and so on until it became known amongst any
girl who lasted there several months.

How they had kept it from the bouncers
was a phenomenon worthy of a sociologist’s inquiry, but did not
arouse a shred of curiosity in Pitkins.

“She’s a . . . she’s one of us. She’s
been there.”

“WHERE?!”

“She doesn’t work at this
bordello.”

“But you know where she
does!”

A nervous sigh.

Pitkins shoved her towards her clothes
like a brute.

“Put ‘em on and don’t
dally!”

He then tossed several gold coins
towards the saucer-eyed man on the bed. “For your
troubles.”

As soon as the whore had a dress on,
Pitkins lifted her up like a sack of potatoes and threw her over
his shoulder.

“You’re taking me to Rose’s bordello,
and I’ll warn you now that any memory troubles will put your life
in grave danger!”

As soon as he opened the door he was
met with a man holding a sword.

“Sheriff’s deputy!” the man said with
as much conviction as though it were a magical
incantation.

“You slipped, but I got
away.”

Half second of silence.

“You’ve got one more second. I’m
looking for my kidnapped wife!”

Leol wouldn’t have permitted Pitkins to
spare the deputy a second longer, but he unwittingly saved the
deputy’s life due to the madness he inserted into Pitkins’
eyes.

A damp circle began to grow in the
man’s groin area, and then, knees shaking, he slipped and fell to
the ground.

Pitkins had exhausted in that instant,
however, whatever compunction had survived his earlier incantation
to Leol.

Two men identifying themselves as
sheriff’s deputies were charging up the stairs. Pitkins let the
whore slide from his shoulder, and he told her “STAY!” with the
self-assurance of a man talking to a well-trained dog.

“You’re under arrest!” the deputy at
the top of the stairs screamed.

Pitkins turned his body at an angle and
thrust his sword in and out of the man’s heart with the calm and
precision of a pool shark executing a simple shot. It was so fast
the man continued walking another two steps, seemingly unaware of
the wound, before his eyes rolled backwards into his skull and he
collapsed down the stairs.

As the other deputy turned and looked
at his fallen comrade, Pitkins sliced his sword hand off at the
wrist and then kicked him down the stairs.

He turned and saw the whore still
seated as instructed.

He yanked her back on top of his
shoulder.

“I can walk, you know!”

Pitkins set her down and twirled her
around face to face with him.

“Flee and you die,” he said
ominously.

Her eyes pulsated with fear.

He grabbed her left wrist, and she
struggled to keep up as he ran down the stairs.

There was one more sheriff’s deputy
there, guarding the exit.

Pitkins grabbed the whore and pulled
her towards him, placing his knife to her throat.

“Move, or she dies.”

“You misjudged me, if you think a
whore’ll do for a hostage.”

Pitkins feinted an overhead attack,
prompting the deputy to raise his sword defensively.

Pitkins squatted down fast and cut the
man’s foot left foot off at the heel.

“I’d wager she earns her money more
honestly than you!” Pitkins shouted to the downed
deputy.

The whore, meanwhile, momentarily felt
like a lady whose honor had just been defended by a valiant knight
in shining armor.

A rude tug at her arm snapped her out
of her fantasy . . . though not completely.

Pitkins threw her atop Frederick and
was behind a half second later.

He leaned forward and slashed
Frederick’s reins.

“Which way?!” Pitkins
barked.

“Left.”

Pitkins wheeled Frederick around and
put his knees against the noble beast’s ribs. He was soon in a full
gallop. He could hear alarm bells being rung throughout the
vicinity.

Chapter 28

When Pitkins heard some thundering
footsteps coming from up ahead, he quickly eased the pressure on
Frederick’s sides and brought him almost down to a walk.

“Scream, holler, wink, or any other
tricks, and I’ll run you through,” Pitkins said, bringing out his
dagger just enough to give a little prick to the back of his
guest’s right side.

“I won’t.”

“What’s your name
anyway?”

“Samantha.”

“Well, Samantha, you’re gonna be like
glue until you introduce me to Rose. Once you do that, you can
leave.”

“Once I do that, I’m as good as
dead.”

“Not if Rose helps me find
Rucifus.”

Silence.

The thundering hooves were drawing
nearer now. Pitkins’ brought Frederick all the way down to a
walk.

“My name’s Ben, and you’re my
girlfriend, Kathy.”

“If they’re deputies, they’ll probably
recognize me. They visit the bordellos rather often.”

“Then I’m Ben, you’re Samantha, and
I’ve bought you for the night.”

“That’s better, but there’s just one
problem.”

“Which is?”

“Have you seen your face?”

Pitkins brought his hand up to his face
and felt the blood even before he saw it.

“You look like you’ve put in a long day
at the butcher house and forgot to wear an apron.”

Pitkins cringed as the galloping horses
slowed to a fast trot.

“Giggle and act like a silly trollop,”
Pitkins whispered.

Pitkins put his face to Samantha’s
right side and began lightly nibbling on her neck. She
giggled.

“Can’t you wait until we get a room?”
she said in a playful voice.

The two approaching riders were on
Pitkins’ left. Out of the limited vision he had from his position
against Samantha’s neck, he could see they gave both of them the up
and down but kept right on riding towards the sound of the clanging
alarm bells.

Pitkins kept Frederick at a walk as
Samantha instructed him on the various turns, and moments later
several more deputies came galloping by, this time not even
stopping to glance at the frisky young couple. The growing darkness
also befriended Pitkins.

Ten minutes later, Samantha informed
him they had arrived at Rose’s bordello. From here, no alarm bells
could be heard clanging, and all seemed oblivious to the small
massacre that had happened a half-hour away.

Nonetheless, Pitkins knew that with his
face and clothes looking like those of a man who narrowly survived
a shark attack, there was no point wasting any time on
deception.

“Stray more than five feet from me, and
I will run you down and then run you through,
understand?”

Samantha nodded.

“Do your best to convince people to
stand aside, that is, if there’s anyone here whose life matters a
fig to you.”

“I don’t know anyone here. I don’t even
know Rose. I just know of her.”

“Well, when you see what you see, just
remember I never asked for any of this.”

Samantha gulped. “I have a plan. Try to
play along.”

“I’ll give it a shot. If fighting
starts, you can get out of the way. But don’t try running
away.”

“Got it.”

Pitkins got off his horse, helped
Samantha down, and then she led the way towards the
doorman.