Payback - Graham McNeill Read online

  He leaned over, wincing as fresh blood leaked from the wound in his side and shook his head at Trask’s foolishness as he pulled out the sack Lathesia had given them from under the bed. There was bound to be some cash missing, but there was still a satisfying weight to it.

  Quickly, he slung the bag and holstered his pistols. He discarded the shotgun he’d fired through the ceiling - the SSA would shoot a man with a shotgun on sight - and slipped from the room.

  He stepped over the two mutants he’d shot through the door and into a scene of utter bedlam. At least two dozen SSA agents were trashing the joint; clubbing aside mutants and purebloods as they dragged anyone they could lay their hands on outside. Their shock mauls rose and fell in time to the thumping music. Flashing strobes rendered everything surreal.

  The brothel’s patrons screamed, desperate to escape.

  He saw a lone SSA agent behind the bar. The agent clubbed the barman, splitting his skull open and pounding his brains out. Cornelius vaulted the balcony, landing feet-first on the SSA agent’s neck and breaking his back. He rolled, keeping out of sight behind the bar, gritting his teeth in pain. Holding his injured side, he dragged the dead agent towards him.

  He shucked off his greatcoat and swiftly began stripping the agent’s armour and uniform. A thrown tankard shattered mirrored glass and liquor bottles above him.

  Cornelius worked fast, pulling on the agent’s grey trousers and jacket. Swiftly he buckled on the heavy breastplate and took the agent’s helmet, slipping it on and sliding down the visor. Grabbing the agent’s shock maul, he rose to his feet and slammed it down hard on the dead barman, shouting, ‘Filthy mutant scum!’

  Still gripping the burlap sack, he made his way round the bar and waded into the mass of bodies, clubbing his way towards the main doors.

  The SSA agents ignored him, but a young man wearing expensive clothes tried to barge past him. He slammed his fist into his face twice, breaking the man’s nose and rendering him insensible. Cornelius dragged him through the door and down the steps of the brothel to the waiting Rhinos.

  Flashing lights on the troop transports cast a flickering glow across the brothel. Jeering crowds filled the street behind the black troop vehicles. SSA agents manned pintel mounted guns as a line of troops bundled the brothel’s patrons into the holding cells in the back of the vehicles.

  Cornelius walked confidently towards the furthest Rhino, hauling the staggering young man towards the SSA agent standing there. He glanced round. All attention was focussed on Mama Pollyana’s.

  ‘One for the cells,’ said Cornelius. He pushed his victim into the SSA agent, who grabbed the falling man. Cornelius stepped close and hammered his upturned palm into the agent’s windpipe. The man dropped, gagging for breath, and Cornelius pushed both men into the back of the transport.

  He ditched the stolen helmet and undipped the breastplate. He kept the shock maul and jogged away from the transports, quickly joining the concealing ranks of the crowd. He gripped the money sack tight, his other held tight over the synth-flesh bandage as he pushed his way through.

  Even as he made his way from Mama Pollyana’s, he grinned wolfishly as he saw Ivan Constantine lurking at the back of the crowd in the shadowed doorway of a derelict building. Two of his thugs stood either side of him, the bulge of firearms clearly visible.

  Taking an oblique route, he circled towards them, his thumb hovering above the activation rune of the shock maul. A small circle of space surrounded the arms dealer, his bodyguards allowing no-one to come too close to their boss. Cornelius knew stealth was out of the question and pressed the activation rune of the shock maul, marching straight towards the group.

  The nearest bodyguard saw him coming and moved to intercept.

  Cornelius slammed the maul across his face, breaking his jaw. The second drew a bead on him with his gun. Cornelius didn’t give him a chance to fire, driving the crackling weapon into his groin and dropping him to the ground. The stench of scorched flesh hit his nostrils.

  Constantine drew a silver laspistol. Cornelius smashed the maul across his hand, breaking fingers, then drove it hard into the arms dealer’s gut. Constantine dropped to his knees.

  Cornelius kicked open the sagging door behind Constantine and, gripping him by the hair, dragged him inside. Cornelius pulled the wheezing Constantine to the furthest corner of the burnt-out building.

  He pulled his stubber, emptied out half the shells and spun the barrel. He showed Constantine, then jammed it under his jaw.

  ‘You know who I am?’ asked Cornelius.

  ‘You’re a dead man,’ sneered Constantine.

  ‘Wrong answer,’ said Cornelius and pulled the trigger.

  The hammer slammed down on an empty chamber. Constantine yelped.

  ‘Now I’ll assume that was just a necessary show of bravado,’ continued Cornelius, ‘and that you’re ready to listen to me now.’

  Constantine bit his lip and Cornelius smiled, placing the cash Lathesia had paid him beside him.

  ‘I could kill you now, Ivan, but I’m not going to. I’ve killed a bunch of your men, but I’m not going to kill you.’

  Seeing Constantine’s puzzled expression, Cornelius said, ‘Here’s the deal. You’re buying your life with this money. I don’t kill you, walk away with whatever Trask’s left me of it and we call this whole sorry mess even. Live and let live, agreed?’

  Constantine said nothing, his eyes blazing hatred.

  Cornelius pulled the trigger again.

  The hammer clicked down on another empty chamber.

  ‘Alright, alright!’ snapped Constantine, but his eyes told another story.

  Cornelius nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Smart decision, Ivan. I figure there’s got to be enough money to be made on this Emperor-forsaken planet to keep us both happy. And I just know you’re smart enough to know that we can be useful to each other.’

  ‘Very well,’ hissed Constantine. ‘I won’t have you killed for this, but pull a stunt like this again and you’re a dead man, Cornelius Barden.’

  Cornelius shrugged. ‘I can live with that. It’s all just part of the game, Ivan,’ he said.

  He turned and disappeared into the flickering glow of Cephalon’s night.