“Whatever.” Mathews chuckled. “Everyone knows you’re… feisty.” Mathews hung up.
What the fuck?Feisty?That’s a fuckin’ description for a woman, not a grown man. That word was a deliberate insult. I’d give Matthews feisty.
I nodded at Buck to watch the bar and went downstairs. Once in the basement, I headed towards the hidden passage and locked the door behind me. The tunnel was an escape route I’d built, but there was also an armoury. People thought I was terrifyingly insane, but I believed in being prepared for anything. Mathews had underestimated me.
The room was plenty big enough for my requirements. Buried twelve-foot underground, it was a secure bunker that the previous Magic had installed. I doubted anyone even remembered it was here. The guy had been a prepper, no doubt, but his habits had been pretty easy to keep up with. Nobody knew when a nuclear strike would happen or if Armageddon was around the corner.
And zombies? We wouldn’t get started on those. The entrance to the tunnel was rigged to collapse if I needed it to, as was the exit. The old Magic had dumped a container down here and built onto it. There was a living area plus my arms room. I rarely bothered with the housing part, but the armament section—oh yeah, that was my baby.
There were assault rifles, machine guns, sawn-off shotguns, and pump-action shotguns, to name a few types, hanging on the walls. There was a reloading press, callipers, scales, reloading dies, a melting furnace, bullet moulds, and everything I needed to make or recast bullets. I had tightly packed barrels of gunpowder and TNT. One wall had crossbows and bolts, and several compound bows with boxes of arrows. Hand grenades, pipe bombs, and Molotov cocktails additionally had their own sealed environment. I had loads of IEDs and anti-personnel mines.
I possessed most weapons known to man, including some that wound their way to me through the black market. A favourite was the army-grade M72 LAW rocket launcher and the FGM-148 Javelin. I furthermore owned an AT4 launcher. I was a Milita’s wet dream. A one-man walking army. But these were my toys, and I had no intention of sharing. But tonight, Mathews would say hi to a few of my friends.
I was beyond tired of him and the trouble he caused. There was also the loss of Jody, but being the honest asshole I was, I knew that wasn’t all on him. Salvos had threatened Jody and was now pushing up daisies, literally. I’d learned a few tricks in my life. Rumours abounded that I had my own personal graveyard out back. They were right. There were bodies out there, and I’d buried them.
Contrary to popular belief, burying a corpse in lime didn’t work as they thought. Lime works at the same pace as natural decomposition. Now, to ensure a corpse really dissolved, you needed good old hydrochloric acid. Shove a body in a vat of that, seal it, and shit dissolves in three days. Scientific studies and my own experiments have proved that. Of course, you can’t have vats hanging around with what was once human remains. And sadly, some parts, like fingers and toes, took up to five months to disappear. My process was quite simple.
Strain the leftovers into a smaller vat, and the job’s done. I owned my own excavator, a four-ton one with a ten-foot arm reach. It allowed me to dig down, drop the small container, cover it with a foot of dirt, and place a decomposing animal on top. I repeated the same two feet later. I then backfilled until three feet from the surface and placed another critter there. A deer or a bear. Then I filled the rest in until ground level.
Not many people knew, but cadaver dogs could still smell a corpse in a vat, ten feet down and covered in hydrochloric acid. I’d researched this. A hound could find a body fifteen feet belowground or thirty feet underwater. Yeah, that’s right, the damn dogs are capable of detecting bodies dumped in anything up to thirty feet of water. A rotting corpse releases gas bubbles, and the hounds can sniff them out.
Hence, putting three decomposing animals on top meant that if someone ever dug, they’d find the first animal and then the second and would fuck off hopefully. Although most handlers train their dogs to ignore the smell of animal bodies, digging up three should make them think their dog had a faulty sniffer. And after being locked up for two years, I’d rather die than return. If the cops came for me, they’d take me dead over alive. That’s for sure.
I checked that everything was ready for tonight and then headed back upstairs. My alibi was waiting for me, and I was only too happy to play into it.
???
At two a.m. I loaded up the truck hidden at the tunnel exit before driving off. Mathews was in town renting a private house, Washington had informed me, and then told me to enjoy myself. Yeah, if the king of the underworld didn’t want to get his hands dirty, he wouldn’t. Not saying Washington wasn’t capable, he was. Why exert yourself if you didn’t have to?
Alert to witnesses, I parked up in a dark zone, with no cameras and hardly anyone around. Hiding the truck in the shadows would make it hard to see. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and picked up the surprise package. A grin crossed my face. Mathews would shit himself.
Keeping to the shadows, I moved swiftly and silently towards the private house where Mathews was staying. The wall was easy enough to scale, and I hid in a tree, watching security. Mathews was an overconfident fool. Deftly, I fitted a silencer to the sniperrifle and took out the four guards patrolling. Their deaths didn’t bother me; they worked for a man who’d threatened me. Their mistake. No doubt they were assholes, too.
Cautiously, I waited twenty minutes to see if anyone would come out, but nobody did. The whole evening was turning into somewhat of a letdown. With a bored sigh, I grabbed a grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it. Seconds later, it blew, and dirt flew everywhere. Shouts came from the house, and several guards appeared. I lobbed a couple of grenades their way and then followed up with my sniper rifle.
This was getting better. Checking around to make sure everyone was down, I slid over the wall and dialled Matthews on a burner phone.
“Who is this?” he yelled on answering.
“You made a mistake threatening me.”
“Magic? This is you? You’ve just signed your death warrant!” Matthews screeched. I was watching through the window as his men herded him towards the entrance.
“Hey, look left,” I demanded and disconnected. I shoved the phone into my bag and placed the surprise package on my shoulder.
Mathews looked up, and I smiled as I released the missile from the AT4 rocket launcher. It hit, and for a brief moment, Mathews held my eyes with terror and resignation, and then he blew sky-high. I climbed the ladder, rolled it back up and packed it away as I straddled the wall. A message had been sent to anyone who tried to screw with me. I’d fuck them straight back.
Whistling, I returned to the truck.
???
“Heard about that attack?” Onyx asked as he sipped a beer.
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Some fool was moving in on Washington’s territory. Name of Mathews. He was here the other week, remember?” Onyx said.
“Yup. Total prick. Got blown up, did he?” I drawled, leaning against the drink counter.
