I leave the hospital, stuffing the card into my pocket. I'll deal with Milligan after I take out this 'bu'ness deal' Larry got wind of. It isn't long before I reach the parking garage holding the unfortunate lot of undesirables.
No telling how many I'm up against or where they are, might be better to scout the area before I draw any attention to myself. Situational awareness is paramount, hurricane of undeath or no.
Two tangos on the first level. Don't know if I can take them both out before one of them raises the alarm and a gunshot would probably send the entire place on alert. Probably better to sneak by them. I hug the wall until I'm almost clear of their field of fire when I notice the maintenance ladder bolted to the cement wall.
I follow the shaft for what seems like miles, winding ever further downward into the inner bowls of the urban parking garage. When I finally make it to the bottom story, I ease open the last grate in the shaft and peer down.
There's a Tong gunman not far from the opening, his back to me.
I hit the ground in a single fluid motion, like a liquid pouring out of the hole. He hears something, but before he has a chance to move, his head is in my hands and his gun clatters to the floor.
His body goes limp after the sharp cracking sound, and I drag him further back into the garage where I stuff him under an Escalade. I head back to where he fell.
I crouch walk to the next corner, peering out just far enough over the edge to see a group of Chinatown Tong waiting behind a black Sedan. One of them's carrying a black attache case.
Briefcase number one.
He carries the case past my field of view, and I can hear someone else walking towards him. Must be the local boys. They exchange words, but I can't make out most of what they're saying. Something about "Mr. Paladin." It's quiet for awhile, then I hear gunshots. Small caliber. The Tong behind the Sedan open fire with automatic weapons, shouting and screaming in Chinese.
A horn sounds above the gunfire like a low, death rattle. After a few moments, the Tong stop shooting, peeking out from over the Sedan to see if there's anyone left. When they're not immediately shot at, they start to get up.
I stand and walk out from around the corner, Ingram raised in one hand. I fire a burst into the furthest Chinaman, splattering blood against the glass of the Sedan as he crashes to the ground. The other has time to turn and look at me before the second burst hits his chest and he crumbles, moaning.
I walk past the bullet-ridden sedan, firing a round into the man's head without breaking stride. One the local punks, a tattooed kid in a wife beater stands up from behind the shattered mess of steel that used to be their car, obviously expecting his buddies to come give him a high five. The burst catches him in the head and he drops back down behind the car.
Two bodies are lying between the cars, a Chinaman and a punk in a hoodie. There's a brown briefcase lying open, the bricks inside scattered onto the floor. Briefcase number one is on its side, battered, scratched and covered in blood that didn't come from this exchange.
I pick it up by the handle and walk out of the garage, heels clicking on the clicking on the concrete.
I slip the Ingram into my shirt as I near the exit of the parking garage. It's a little blocky looking, but nothing overly obvious. I walk back to Larry's truck of mack and hand him the briefcase. He takes it and rolls the grubby, gold-plated combination lock. When it clicks, he cracks the case open, and a golden light radiates from the opening, bathing his face an almost divine glow. He smiles before snapping the case shut and rolling the lock.
"Oh, that's
beautiful. Somebody somewhere got to be pissed off about losin' this! Too bad I sent my main girl here after 'em, innit?" He opens the back of the truck and slides the case in before shutting it again and turning around, pulling out a wad of money from his pocket. "Alright! Let me peel off a few bills for ya."
I take the money.
"Thanks, Larry."
"I'll drop the case off to the new owner in the mornin'. Then I'm 'oing to get me a big old steak. Not that domestic stuff neither. I'm going to order up 32 ounces of Kobe beef - the expensive shit. You wanna come? My treat."
"Sorry, I'm not much of an eater."
He coughs into his hand, snorting.
"Yeah well you a little pale for me anyway. Say, my girl down at Confession, name Venus Dare, she askin' around for someone with the skills to- well, I'll let her tell you. I'll giver her a call, recommend you, if you interested."
What good is power if you don't completely abuse it for your own personal gain?
"Sure, tell her I'm on my way."
I can't wait to sit around in another night club. Maybe at least this one won't be some kind of shitty neon goth interior.
Yeah, not crossing my fingers on that one.
I suppose the bartender's the person to ask. I hope this place isn't co-owned.