Chapter Eleven—Fracture Rating

They walked into the room and Kyle found his jaw dropping. There was Ben Yates, looking frazzled and out of sorts, a slightly feminine-looking dweeb with glasses in his early forties. The three hookers standing there with their mouthes open shocked like animals caught in headlights almost made Kyle laugh.

The bed was rumpled and clothes were strewn everywhere.

And then Kyle did start laughing, John chuckling along with him. “So!” Kyle said aggressively, “we caught our overlord with his pants down, Staxx.”

“Literally, Max.”

“You were having quite the time in here when your mage and your guards burst in to warn you of an attack.”

“Security is on the way,” Ben Yates, said, the worry in his voice evident. He had a hand forward, as if that could stop a bullet or Kyle’s knife. “You can still escape.”

John glanced toward Kyle. “Max—he’s got a point, maybe we should—“

“No, no, no. We came here to do a job, and by the gods we’re going to see this through, Staxx.” Then he turned to Yates. “I watched that exposé you did, where you spoke at length about how people should start considering clinical represents to… quell their urges, did you say? And here you are. With three, high-class hookers.”

Max glanced toward the nightstand. There were feminine beauty products there. “Is the wife out, Yates?” he asked casually as if he were only remarking on the chosen color of paint for the walls. He grabbed the lipstick and scrawled TAKE IT TO THE MAX on the mirror. “You’re definitely taking it to the max,” he said quietly, so quietly in fact Yates probably didn’t even hear him. “We’re definitely taking things to the max tonight.”

“Where’s the safe?” John asked.

The stupid buffoon couldn’t help but glance in its direction even though he chose not to say anything. John pulled the painting off the wall to reveal the metal door.

“Open it,” Kyle said, then pointed at the hookers and dragged his index finger to the door. “You three can leave.” They stood there, frozen. “Now!”

They screamed and ran out of the room.

Max went up to Yates, put his knife to his knee and put a slash there. He cried out, and grabbed the wound, spreading blood over his heads.

“I said open the safe.”

“Okayokayokay! I’ll open it, just don’t… hurt me anymore.”

He limped over to the box, then put in the code. There was a quiet click, and then the door cracked open. Kyle stepped away, gestured dramatically. “All yours, Staxx.”

John shoved Yates out of the way and he want tumbling to the soft white rug in front of the bed. “Wow,” he said, flipping through some pages. “Bonds.”

“How much?” Kyle asked.

He thumbed through them. “There’s got to be a couple hundred million here.” He pulled some other documentation out and put it all in a slim satchel strapped to his body underneath his suit jacket. “We can check this other stuff out later. But these bonds—I’m sure we’ll find great use for these.”

“Now you,” Kyle said, rushing up to Yates and grabbing him by the neck. “Get up!”

He screamed like a scared animal. “What are you doing? You got what you came for, right? What else do you want?”

Kyle forced him toward the windows.

“Max,” John said. “We gotta go.”

“Yeah, we gotta go all right,” Kyle said. “Say, Yates, you know how many people died from your dog shit printer beef?”

“Uh… what?” he asked, confused, as if Kyle had asked him some preposterous question.

Kyle grit his teeth and squeezed Yate’s neck as hard as he could. The little tech twerp, social engineer and god wanabe cringed and cried out. “Don’t play dumb with me,” Kyle snarled, then he let go. Yates looked up at him as he pressed his holo-mask buttom.

“Um, Max,” John said, “I’m not sure—“

“NO!” Yates cried out, and closed his eyes shut.

Max grabbed the billionaire by the hair and yanked his head back. “Open your eyes.”

“No.”

Fuckin’ killer—squirming for his own life.

Kyle put his knife to Yate’s throat. “Open your gadsdamned eyes, or I’ll slit your throat right now.”

He obeyed.

“Good man,” Kyle said. “Now tell me. How many?”

“I don’t know! The meat is approved by the World Board of Health and—“

Max backhanded him and his face went into the carpet.

“That’s the problem with these megalomaniacs, Staxx,” Kyle said. “They can only see what matters to them. Get up, Yates.”

The man did as he was told, but he was interminably slow. Kyle grabbed him by the back of the neck again and pointed at the window. “Do you see that glass?”

He said nothing.

“Do you see it?”

“Yes! I can see it!”

“What do you think the fracture rating is on that?”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me a twerp as smart as you can’t make a guess. What are you, stupid? Did I hit you too hard? Staxx—the fracture rating?”

“Oh,” Staxx said, “I’d say about a hundred and fifty kilograms or so.”

“You hear that?”

Yates nodded vehemently.

“When was the last time you had some meat?”

“Meat?”

“Yeah, meat, stupid!”

“Uh… I…”

“WHEN?!”

“Yesterday!”

“Was it your printer bullshit?” There was a pause. “No?”

“What was it, Yates? A cut of prime veal? Kobe? Come on, man tell me!”

“It was… it was Akarilion Serpent.”

“That’s some damn rare offworld stuff right there,” Kyle said.

“You can say that again,” John said as he shook his head.

He actually thinks we’re going to let him live…

“You’re an idiot, Yates.”

There was a pause.

And then it must have sunk in, because Yates started crying.

Holy shit…

Kyle was a relatively small man and despite his obsession with calisthenics, his arms were thin, but this Ben Yates was pathetic, so he wasn’t too heavy for Kyle to push around.

Kyle shoved him toward the window and Yate’s forehead hit the glass with a thump. Yates fall back, but Kyle caught him.

“They’re saying upwards of twenty to thirty thousand have died from your printer meat,” Yates. “That’s not to mention everyone that’s had dangerous allergic reactions. Of course, the effects are slow going. Without thorough medical examinations, the deaths often look like other complications, when in fact those complications are caused by your fake meat. The bullshit media with half its shares owned by your company won’t even address the issues.”

“Is that right?” Staxx asked. “I mean, I knew this guy was no good, but you didn’t tell me the details, Max.”

“Wasn’t time.”

Kyle backed away from Yates.

“Now, Staxx…?”

“Yeah?”

“Toss this killer out the window.”

“With pleasure, Max.”

“Wait! NO!”

Staxx ran up and kicked Yates in the back. The force of the blow was so strong, it probably cracked the weakling’s back, as he made an almost V-shape as he hit the glass. It shattered and Yates flailed, his scream quickly receding as warm summer air blew in on Max and Staxx.

“Hell yeah,” Kyle said, not even bothering to walk up to the edge to make sure. “Fifty-six floors of hell yeah.”

John turned, grabbed the lipstick off the nightstand and went to the window and scrowled …AND STAXX OF CASH!

Kyle laughed out loud. “That makes no sense. Let’s add more.” He took the lipstick and wrote AND BODIESS, TOO!

“Wow,” John said. “That’s dark.”

“Yeah. Well killers like that asshole deserve dark and gruesome fates, even if he’s not the one who slammed the knife down, he was the guy behind the politics—the real killer.”

“The rest are henchmen.”

“Damn straight, Staxx.”

And then they heard the sirens from the police.

“That’s not good,” John said.

“No,” Kyle echoed. “No—it’s not, Staxx.”