Halloween in Roanapur

I was gonna have to get rid of Morty, I knew that, and he probably knew that too. The problem was, he was a big guy. I liked this apartment, but really, even with the air-con, it was warm, and it'd take me quite a while to get rid of the body parts, and dead, he'd stink up the garbage real quick. Which was when the buzzer sounded, and 'ol Morty looked real hopeful through that agonized look on his face.

"Who're you expecting?" I asked.

"No-one," he groaned, but he was lying, I could tell by his eyes, and when I looked at the security monitor by the door, holy moley, ambulance crew, two of them, complete with gurney.

"You there, Morty," one of the dudes said, 'n he was chewing gum. "Got a call to say there was a pickup. She ready? We got the recipients on the table, ready to go. Doc's screaming for the parts. Don't be pissing us around, we got the cash, like always, and one of 'em needs a kidney real quick." He sounded bored.

"Change of plan," I said into the intercom. "You okay if it's a guy?"

"Hey, kidney's are kidney's, and we need the lungs as well," the dude said, and he laughed. "Neither of the two waiting on the table are gonna care if the tables're turned."

"Funny, guy," I said. "Say, you need him alive, or just fresh? Reason I'm asking is, there's been a little accident. Hope you don't need kneecaps."

"How fresh?" the dude asked, and he'd stopped chewing gum. "Nah, the doc uses plastic for kneecaps. Not gonna be a problem." Now he was worried. "You didn't fuck up the chest, did 'ya? Or the head. Good market for eyeballs, 'n fresh skin, that stuff's always in demand."

I looked back through the doorway, and Morty was tossing around, making a bit of noise. Fat guy, he probably wouldn't be able to hold his breath for very long, and yeah, fat. Lotta skin. I could see why they'd want him. Lotta other organs and things they could use too, if they could get rid of the fat, and for a fat guy, he'd seemed in pretty good shape.

"Fresh? Say, sixty seconds," I said. Then, "there's a few bags of party ice in the freezer. We can pack him in that if it helps."

"Yeah, that works," the dude said, and he was back to chewing gum. "We get him back real fast, that's not a problem."

"Gimme a minute," I said, and I darted back into the bedroom, and yeah, Morty was wide awake. Eyes flickering, looking at me, and I shook my head.

"Really, Morty," I said. "You were gonna sell me for body parts? Frigging body parts?" I shook my head, sadly. "Well, at least your kidneys and lungs are gonna live on. They'll probably sell your heart as well, if they can find something that small."

His eyes widened, and they widened a bit more, and he tossed his head from side to side, but those pliers I'd used to pull his toenails off came in handy to get a good grip on his nose, and I squeezed that superglue onto his lips and sealed them shut. He squealed, and tried to bite, but that Norinco butt was solid, and a couple of solid whacks to the head left him dazed enough that his lips were sealed, and even though he shook his head frantically, I got hold of his nose again easily, and it was a big beaky one, easy to get a grip on.

"Big breath, Morty," I said, very considerately, I thought, and after he'd got it, I squirted superglue up each nostril and pressed tight. Instant superglue, only took a second, and Morty was on his way out, thrashing and bucking on the bed, eyes already bulging as I walked back to the door.

"Come on in, boys," I said, holding out my hand for the envelope, and I took it, carefully, Norinco 1911 in my other hand, and they saw the gun. They saw Morty too. Me, I saw the cash. US dollars, I'd count it later, and Morty was bouncing on the bed, kicking and thrashing, whining desperately, turning blue, eyes bulging big time.

"Guess 'ol Morty's plans did change," the dude said, as they wheeled the gurney into the bedroom.

"You know him?" I said, and Morty musta, coz he was looking at them, and doing his best, but he was running outa oxygen, and his time was almost up.

"Yeah," the dude said, laconically. "Used to supply us with two or three donors a week." He eyed me. "Wanna business card? If you're thinking of taking over, we've got more customers than we got parts, if you know what I mean." He grinned. "Just don't make the same mistake 'ol Morty here made."

I grinned, keeping well back, coz I wouldn't, and Morty, he'd just about stopped moving. "Just leave your card on the nightstand, would 'ya." Took another quick look in the envelope before I tossed it onto the dresser behind me. Guess that'd cover me for a few more days, but I did wonder what else Morty had lying around. This place really looked expensive. "Do you need his brain? Or his ears?"

"Na."

"Good," I said, smiling, and I took a quick step forward, steak knife from the kitchen in my left hand, and I slammed it through his ear, into his brain, and twisted. No chance of resuscitating him now. "Didn't want him coming back," I added. "He mighta been a bit pissed."

I giggled, and stepped back. "He's all yours, boys, and sorry about the smell." Because he'd done the usual, and crapped himself as he died. Didn't smell that great, but it wasn't like I was staying. Not now.

"Thank you, ma'am." All of a sudden they were real polite.

I watched them lift him onto the gurney, toss the bags of party ice around him, and then they wheeled 'ol Morty out the door. Me, I counted out the cash, and considering I'd only arrived two or three hours ago, what with everything else Morty had turned over to me, I wasn't doing too bad. Wasn't going to stay here though. He might have friends. Didn't seem like the sorta guy that would, but you never knew. Best just to clear out fast, with everything I could use, and find somewhere safely nondescript, then track down Revy, 'n I could do that tonight. Halloween. Costume. I'd be invisible.

Just one more asian hooker in a city filled with asian hookers.

Had my first pair of cowboy boots in Roanapur, too.

Really nice boots, these ones were.

Blue Nile crocodile.

My first.

Always liked souvenirs, and I'd had to abandon my old collection. Guess I could start again though, and I looked at those boots, and wow, alligator skin from the Blue Nile. First time for everything, and that put them in a category all of their own. Cool! I smiled, and tucked them into one of my two small bags, and there was plenty of room. I wasn't exactly travelling heavy. Time to get outa here. From what he'd said, there were a few people after him, and they'd all think it was one of the others that'd gotten him, and me, I didn't want to meet any of the others..

Sucked that I couldn't stay here tonight though, and yeah, I was feeling a little disappointed as I poured a couple of bottles of cooking oil all over the kitchen, filled a wok with the stuff, turned the gas stove on, lit all four burners, and I was gone. Heard the wooomph and crash from down the road, as the glass windows seven floors up shattered, and I smiled. Nobody'd be getting any fingerprints or DNA outa there, on the off-chance anyone tried.

* * *

"Hey, china doll. How much?"

I glanced towards the voice, and smiled. Wasn't american, from that accent. European maybe, but be still my beating heart. He was wearing cowboy boots.

"Thousand baht for all night," I said. Still had those two small bags, except they were kinda packed to overflowing now. That'd been a lotta heroin and cash, and I gestured at them, looking hopeful. "I'm looking for somewhere to stay the night, Mister."

He grinned. "Guess it's your lucky day, china doll. Come on up." He inhaled, tossed his cigarette in the stormwater drain, and turned, heading up the narrow stairs, and I followed, smiling happily, because he had that look. The sorta guy that'd be real nice to a girl, and let her stay the night, and I might even get breakfast in the morning. Bonus.

And I know, I know. A few million in secret bank accounts and safe deposit boxes, but they were there, and I was in Roanapur. Until I'd met Morty, I hadn't exactly been on the bones of my ass, but I'd been, you know, economical and I sure didn't want to draw any attention. Not until I looked a little different, anyhow.

"Nice," I said, following him into the apartment four floors up. Long and narrow. Top floor. Windows with bars, air con, wooden floors, Large bed at one end, bathroom. Small kitchenette, refrigerator, table and chairs. Bottle of bourbon on the table, and when I turned around, he was holding a knife like he knew what it was for, and his other hand was gesturing.

"Everything you have," he said. "Money, gold, drugs, electronics. Whatever you have." He smiled. "Hand it all over, nice and quiet, get on the bed and spread, and you can walk outa here alive." He giggled, his eyes kinda weird, and he was high on something. "Or maybe I'll sell you off. Market's always good for pretty little whores in Roanapur."

"Please," I whimpered, and honestly, I was disappointed. In him, and in me, because I really had thought he was okay, but I'd sorta thought Morty was okay too. Guess this was Roanapur, and I shoulda expected it. Never mind. "Please, Mister. I came here to work... I'll give you everything... it's here... I'll give you the money."

I reached around, small of my back, under that cheap linen jacket that was looking pretty crappy now, and yeah, Norinco. Suppressor attached. Wasn't exactly comfortable, but I was glad I'd hung onto it. Didn't think the superglue woulda worked with this dude.

"I'll give you the best blowjob you ever had, Mister. Just don't hurt me..." and my hand came out, and I whimpered, and did that scared look, and eased the trigger back as I came on target, and there was that soft blaat, and a red flower blossomed, center of his body mass, and he staggered, looked down.

"Bitch..."

Blaat.

"Never bring a knife to a gunfight," I said, but I said that after I'd pulled the trigger, and put that second shot through his heart, tossing him on his ass on the floor, and I didn't think I'd call those guys for this one.

Too many holes in the parts they needed, and besides, I didn't want anyone knowing where I was. He shuddered a couple of times, and then he went limp, and thank god that table had one of those old plastic covers. I whipped it off, tossed it on the floor, and rolled him onto it, with some old clothes that were probably his from the bed, but they were good enough to soak up the blood.

Looked around. Yeah, this place'd do. Just have to dispose of everything real quick, because even with the aircon on, it was hot, and he'd stink up real fast, and it did need a clean now. Kinda wondered how leases worked here, but I figured whoever owned this building wouldn't give a shit as long as the rent was paid up.

First things first though, and I looked at his boots. Yeah! Souvenirs, and I was beginning to like Roanapur. I tugged them off his feet, and lined them up with Morty's. Gonna get myself a nice display rack, because the ways things were shaping up, I was gonna have a nice souvenir collection real quick.

Looked out the back window, and the disposal problem was sorta gonna take care of itself too. Nice thing about Roanapur was canals, and there was one, right down there, and from the look of it, there was already a body floating by, bobbing in the water. I smiled, started singing to myself as I got to work, and five minutes later, the first arm went out, far as I could throw it, and the rest was gonna follow, piece by piece, and then I'd clean up, take a nap, and tonight, yeah, I'd pick up something better than this Norinco 1911, and go look for Revy.

* * *

"Ninja Arms. Looks like my kinda place," I said to myself, looking at the sign over the door, and those metal grills, you'd need a bulldozer to rip those out. Opened the door, and there was a guard there, shotgun pointing right at me.

"Yeah. Watcha want?"

"Weapons," I said. "And I'm paying. Cash."

"Do come in, Madame," another voice said, very politely, followed by a loud buzz, and then, rather more sharply. "Let the lady through, Somchai."

I walked through, the guard closing the door behind me. The voice belonged to an old man, who'd been sitting behind a glass counter, but now he was standing. Behind him were racks of guns, the glass countertop displayed handguns, accessories, all those little things that made a girl's heart pitter and patter. You know, mags, boxes of ammo, holsters, shooting gloves, ear protectors, suppressors, cleaning kits, slings, cases, laser sights. Be still my beating heart.

"Tea, Madame?" he asked, gesturing, and an old lady, as old as he was, appeared through the doorway behind him with a tray, a teapot, and small chinese tea cups. Jasmine tea, too.

"Thank you," I said, taking the seat before the counter, waiting as he seated himself and poured, and we sipped tea, silently, eyeing each other. I knew what he saw. A chinese whore. I had that look down to a fine art. But what did I see? An old man who dealt arms in Roanapur, and he might have been old, but he was here, and alive, and obviously running a successful business in a city where the law was whatever the police said it was, and the police were corrupt.

On a section of the wall behind him were half a dozen framed certificates, and I recognized a couple of them. Advanced Handgun, and Submachine gun, both from Front Sight Firearms Training in Las Vegas, and I'd been there, done those, plus a couple more. Tactical Explosive Entry Course from the Thai Police, which was interesting. A few more, all professional, a Bachelor of Science degree from the Chulachomklao Royal Military Academy, and three certificates appointing Mr. Bennie Thanarat as a Second Lieutenant, a Lieutenant, and then a Captain in the Royal Thai Marine Corps.

He smiled. "You can call me Mr. Bennie," he said at last.

"Trexy," I said, and I smiled. "Just Trexy." Good a name as any, and it'd do for today.

"And what can I do for you, Just Trexy?" he asked. "A little personal protection? We have some discrete handguns for ladies."

I smiled. "I'm not after discrete," I said, sipping. "This jasmine tea is wonderful, Mr. Bennie. I'm in the market for firepower. 1911's if you have them, point four five, and a short-barrelled rifle or two."

"If you don't mind me asking, Madame, how're you paying for this?"

"Cash," I said, opening my handbag, peeling out five thousand bucks, and placing them on the counter between us. "US dollars." That stash of Morty's was coming in sooooo useful. "Five kay deposit, and let's keep a running total. I'll keep topping it up as we work through this."

"It's a pleasure doing business with a decisive woman, Madame," Mr. Bennie said, like he really meant it, and the size of that pile of dollars on the counter, he probably did. "Why don't we start with the 1911's." He stood, and I was really beginning to like the way the old guy did business. Start with the stuff that filled a girl's heart with joy. "If you'd like to come this way, I can show you what we have available."

Les Baer. Ruger. Colt. Well, half a dozen different Colt 1911's, and they weren't bad. I'd used the Colt 1991 Commander a time or two. Kimber. Always liked Kimbers, and old Bennie had a few of them. American Tactical. Sig Sauer. Smith & Wesson. Browning. Remington. Metro Arms. Taurus. Walther. Wilson Combat. Citadel. Cimarron. Norinco. Rock Island. Springfield, and I did like Springfields, but really, there wasn't a shitty 1911 out there, which is why I liked them. Reliable. Sorta business I was in, or had been in, would likely get back into, you needed reliable.

"Oh man," I said. "You've got everything."

"This is Roanapur, Madame," Mr. Bennie said, and I knew without looking that he'd be smiling. "Chief Watsup's remarkably tolerant when it comes to personal defence."

"Chief Watsup?" I said, and yeah, I'd met him when I'd had dim sum with Mr. Chang, that morning I was leaving, but I wasn't mentioning that to Mr. Bennie. I did remember Watsup though. Head of Roanapur's police force, and he'd dropped by to collect his payoff from Mr. Chang, and they'd chatted about golf.

"Roanapur Police," Mr. Bennie said, and now I did glance at him.

He eyed me blandly. "We never discuss our customers, Madame," he said, and he smiled. "With anyone."

I looked at him, our eyes holding each others', and neither of us blinked. I nodded.

"I'd like to look at a couple of these," I said, but I already knew, and I did look. I tried a dozen, going over them, broke down a couple to check the works, and they were pristine, straight outa the factory from the look of if, but those Springfields. I'd always liked them, and these were good. Really good.

"I'll take two of these Springfield Army 1911's, the Ronin one's, twelve mags, and a thousand rounds, and yeah, that little Ruger SR9, six mags, better make it another thousand rounds. That's a nice little gun for concealed carry. Now, whaddaya got that's compact, and puts it out? We'll do something bigger after that."

Because if anyone came after me, I wanted firepower. Massive firepower. Enough firepower to blow my way out of hell if I needed to, and I was gonna setup a couple of different escape routes, that's for sure. Find somewhere close by I could stash a boat, to start with. Make sure the boat was equipped as well. With what Morty'd donated to my start-up fund, I was good for it, and I'd already sorted out taking over the lease from my boyfriend.

Never did know his name, he'd gone from my life too fast, and I'd been all teary about him leaving, when I was talking to the old Thai guy that owned the building and lived at the back of his shop on the ground floor.

"Good fucking riddance to that piece of eurotrash," the old dude'd said, and he'd smiled when I'd carefully counted out that first and last month's rent, plus another month as a damage deposit.

"Oh boy," I said, looking at those rifles, the cute little compact ones that fired lots of rounds, very very fast, and aiyaaahhh, I did love this shop. "You've got Heckler and Koche? The MP5?" Okay, now I was excited. I loved those little H&K's. I'd used them a coupla times down in New Mexico sorting out a problem or two for Mr. Ong. Local chapter, they'd got a bit uppity, and I'd had to reorganize the command chain a little.

"I'll take two, and I'd like that little Brugger and Thomet APC9." There was only one, and I wanted it. Lovely when you were in a tight spot, and easy to tuck away in a little ruck with a few mags. "And an Uzi of course."

"And throw in one of those Saiga-12's." Hard to beat those Saiga tactical shotguns. "Now, what rounds have you got for it?" I was gonna have to make a couple of trips to get this stuff back to the apartment, but hey, why not. Have to do something about security too. Steel doors, reinforced frames, security grills, check out the ceilings, the floors. Booby traps. Monitoring systems. Escape routes. Lot of work to do, but if I was gonna stay here, no harm in taking precautions.

"Let's make that three Uzi's and a second Saiga-12, and I better take two more of the 1911's," because it'd be good to have one of each in that boat, and another in a safe house I could use as a bolt hole... I better get a couple more 1911's too. Or maybe I'd just come back in a few days. "No, make it one Uzi to go, but I'd like to put the other two on layby."

Yeah, Mr. Bennie was looking real happy now, smiling away as I counted out a few more notes, quite a few more, and then I turned to see what else they had, because this was the kinda shopping I loved.

* * *

Hot. That was me, and I kinda snickered as I looked in the mirror. Black tanktop, loose and light black linen jacket, tight red shorts, cheap Nikes, and I'd had my hair styled and bleached blonde. Sort of a blonde asian Harley Quinn look, and I rather liked it. Blue contact lenses, makeup, and I didn't look like me at all, but then, I hardly ever did. It'd do until I could sort out some plastic surgery, and the mirror aviator shades I'd picked up from that stall down the road were just a little extra insurance.