killjoy (proof copy -- not for distribution.) # # chapter ... · my primary assignment is your...
TRANSCRIPT
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(Chapter ONE)# # Chapter One # #
(PROOF COPY -- Not for distribution.)
Killjoy
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Chapter One: Killjoy
Baxter Robertson came to, lying on his side wrestling for his
life; hogtied -- his hands and feet were now bound behind his
body. As if the throbbing from his head wasn't enough Baxter
knew he had been knocked out for some time because a chest
harness made of rope now bound much of his body. It created a
fulcrum he wouldn't want to test nor could be reached with his
hands. Rolling his body side-to-side brought pain but the
importance of freeing himself cast off all thoughts further
injury. He sensed something worse. He wasn't in complete command
of his body. Baxter would soon realize that after being knocked
out he had been injected with a temperamental truth serum meant
to loosen his tongue. As beat up as he was now, there was
absolutely no way of knowing he'd been stuck. His restraints
threw his soul into a desperate panic. After all, losing the
fight meant his life was about to end. An out-of-place
instrument resting on the counter in front of him made it
obvious. To someone in Baxter's line of work, the obscure object
implied finality. It rested far less innocently than the toaster
and French press behind it. It had the form of a misshapen bolt
shot but the tiny barb hidden in the recess of the barrel made
it clear to Baxter the questions he had been refusing to answer
meant he was about to offer up answers with a side of scrambled
brains.
Just yards away outside his home the busy suburban
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Just yards away outside his home the busy suburban
neighborhood lives continued, ignorant of the riotous violence
taking place behind the walls of a home just like their own.
Baxter's internal crisis morphed to terror. Once again he
thrashed his body. The result was a reminder that he was already
injured and bruised so badly the only part of his body still in
command was his mind. At any moment Baxter's intruder would
return to where he left him. There was no sound in the house but
the sight of the red jacket slung over the chair beside him
served as a warning. Don't touch that dial kids, we'll return to
your regularly scheduled interrogation in just a moment.
Baxter's mind screamed for a solution. He looked about again,
his eyes popping as he froze himself in silence listening for a
hint of his recent assailant. He could hear nothing. “Comm dial
-- Slinger.” Said Baxter. He waited. He repeated, “Comm dial --
Jacob Slinger.” Then a third and last time -- nothing. It was
no use, his custom alloy reinforced wrist comm was somehow
busted in the fight.
Distant sounds in the home gave way as the spy hunter, Tesher
Soyleme, was returning from his scavenger hunt. He was here in
search of bona fides. Tesher had been surveilling Baxter for
some time but Baxter’s time and Tesher’s patience wore out.
Tesher walked back in the room with a small fingernail-sized
drive instead. Tesher would later learn the file was a full
dummy file loaded with data in a programming language unique
from any other. As for the raw data, it too was useless. It was
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from any other. As for the raw data, it too was useless. It was
encrypted, that he expected. No more than a consolation prize.
He held it up between forefinger and thumb with mock
disappointment painted across his ragged jawline. “It's genius
-- using outmoded tech. I'm going to have a hell of a time
finding equipment to pull the data off this, but I will. My
employer insisted I'd find a cache of hardware, but you have
nothing. Fortunately for Baxter, Tesher didn’t find his lab
behind a false wall in the basement.
Tesher continued to monologue. “There’s a large transfer
history on your home network that refers to this file. What
could be on here that you needed to keep it off the comm grids?
You even deleted your log files from local outbound routing
before transferring whatever it is you have on this old memory
disc. Whoever sent them downstream is still a mystery --” He
paused and looked at Baxter. “For now.” Tesher cut to the chase.
“Baxter. I don’t care about what’s on this disc. My primary
assignment is your partner’s name. Save me and yourself time and
pain. Tell me your partner’s name.” Tesher slid the item into a
slot on his jacket. Now less dazed, Baxter’s blank stare
answered Tesher. He wasn’t talking. Tesher returned to
diplomacy. “You're an engineer. Let's speak in the language. Do
you see this?” Tesher waved a small wand-like rod with specs of
lights along its shaft. “I had this custom made. It detects
magnetic particle fields. I think it's the most sensitive gauss
meter in the world.” Baxter snorted in response. “You don’t
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meter in the world.” Baxter snorted in response. “You don’t
agree? That’s okay. You don’t have to. You see while I left you
here staring at that killjoy, I made myself to home ...This
brings us back to my concern of your uncooperative position Mr.
Van Dam. Let's start with your real name. We both know it's not
Desmond Van Dam. Think about it. Fighting the Armbatrol over
every question will only make you suffer. My employer directed
me to your home with your real name. Of all things to lie about,
please don’t waste your time. I know your name. Let’s build some
trust, shall we? Just say it.” Tesher raised his eyes to the
counter. “Get this right and I don't immediately shoot that
killjoy through your skull.” Tesher's captive slowly raised his
chin. The absence of communication between them was aggrieved.
As if fighting against an exhale of breath he wanted to draw
back in he let it out, “Baxter -- Baxter Robertson.”
“That’s a good start, Baxter. Good names are hard to come
by. I wanted to become a contractor you know? I was told I
didn't have the disposition for law. So here I am with you. Do
you know the first rule of law contractors?” Baxter rested his
head back peering up at Tesher in resignation. Tesher looked
back at him. There was no derision. “I'll tell you -- Never ask
a question you don't already know the answer to. That is how I
knew you were lying when I first questioned you.”
Baxter wondered how long he was out and what this man could
have found that he was going on with such confidence.
The condescension Tesher’s voice dropped. “I’ve never once
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The condescension Tesher’s voice dropped. “I’ve never once
seen a V.I. like this one. You are special.” Then it returned.
“Do you want to know my name?” The spy hunter asked. Baxter's
eyes lit in horror. He did not want to know this man's name.
Tesher could see it in Baxter's eyes. Tesher seemed almost kind
as he continued. “No? Okay. This line of work gets an unfair
rap. You went to school for engineering. Me, I was schooled in
forensics. I’d say we are both trained to think in the same
analytical manner. Do you know what I'm saying, Baxter? What I'm
saying is the fight is over. Let's handle this professionally.
I'm not going to leave here without your partner's name.” Tesher
leaned against the counter of the kitchen. The killjoy rested
near his side. “That is the only remaining tally on my agenda.”
Baxter remained quiet. The spy hunter began piecing together
what was going on. Each man speculated what the other was
thinking.
Baxter was the first to break the silence. “I know how this
will go. I'm trained to face this moment that I never wanted to
come. But I'd like to know one thing.”
Tesher was bemused. He paused his work. “What's that?”
“How did you find me? How do you know anything about me? How
did you know who I am?”
Tesher thought a moment before answering. To tell Baxter the
answer is his employer sent a spy hunter to find out who his
partner is would only spook him. In his mind, he played out the
reasons Baxter would ask this question and how it could harm any
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reasons Baxter would ask this question and how it could harm any
future questions. In deciding it was indeed a question that
could build rapport between the two, he answered. “Facial scan
...all I had. That impress you?” He sighed. This lie didn’t
satisfy Baxter, it tipped him off.
Baxter aimed his eyes at Tesher. Searching for humanity, he
found none. The tall brute wasn't the commando Baxter expected.
Brawny, but unassuming. His boxy frame suited his personality.
Tesher's drab skin wasn’t leathery, he was strickly and
urbanite. His light hair didn't have any direction, maybe due to
their fight but it looked intentionally tussled but not spiked.
It seemed an educated demeanor held a monster in check as if
something was waiting to get out and kill. Baxter could tell,
this a man who enjoys taking a life.
“You will kill me.” Stated Baxter. He was solemn.
“Did I say that? Answered Tesher.
“No, you didn’t need to.” Answers Baxter. “But you are a
liar. Your story doesn’t add up. You are given no more than a
scan of my facial features and asked to retrieve a name. You
don’t know what you are looking for.”
Tesher took a few confident steps around Baxter to exhibit
his dominant position. “So, let’s get on with it. Who is Logan?”
Baxter’s face turned to Tesher's. His reaction to turn was no
less a confession than the size of his widened eyes. Logan was a
name he only uttered over a private network. Baxter quickly
realized what this was all about. To his dying breath, he had to
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realized what this was all about. To his dying breath, he had to
keep Logan’s real name from leaving his lips. Tesher was in the
dark.
Tesher went to work. “You know I wasted a lot of days in that
van across the street monitoring your calls. Nothing. Then one
day, by complete and utter luck I saw you through your window
talking on your comm. I turn to my equipment and your call
didn't register or exist. How you selectively blocked
radiofrequency is genius! I knew then if I could break that
call, I’d have my name. I scanned over 500 known transmission
protocols and still, your conversation was spaghetti. If I
didn’t know better I’d say you and your caller were on your own
private telecom system. How is that possible? But it must be
because there you were, talking freely. Now if I’m right -- and
I am, I'm betting you built it with proprietary encryption too.
I may as well toss this data card in the trash.” Tesher had it
right. He was getting closer but he had no name.
Baxter felt good to know Tesher was in the dark. He stared
intently at Tesher.
Tesher continued, “It was then I understood why the money for
one name. You're no bum and gun job, Baxter. This isn't a
product I'm after, its corporate warfare way over middle
management.” Tesher twisted his head to his side placing two
fingers on his mouth as he was only now deducing the meaning. He
paused curiously as if to think. “Baxter, you've made me resort
to some less than standard tools. I waited four days for your
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to some less than standard tools. I waited four days for your
next call with him. That's a lot of long boring hours waiting
for you to finish fucking your wife and doting on your daughter
over dinner. Kids. Their drama never ends. You know the boy
she's interested in -- he has a girlfriend. You should tell her.
Of course, she is kinda young for boys now isn’t she? And how do
you find time to stay up so late playing video games? Those
conversations! But you weren’t trading any information over a
gaming system either. So I scanned your online conversations for
even the most cryptic communications and still nothing. Then
finally I got you. I watched you answer your comm. Despite only
being able to pick up your audio all I have is a vague
conversation. You two are clandestine. I bet his number is
shielded. coded, untraceable, because it’s as if you two are
using your own floating remote private telecom relays to
transmit your conversations over a great distance. You couldn’t
be more secure if you had your own satellites.” The answer hit
him. “-- or your own satellite signal...” He paused and the
thought hit him. “You do!” He said in revelation. “Don’t you?
How is that even possible? Who has that kind of network access?
Really Baxter, how do you do it? But seriously, you two are the
most sophisticated men I've ever crossed, and I meant that.” And
he did. Tesher’s deduction was deadly close. Baxter and his
partner didn’t have private satellites, and Tesher guessed
right. They borrowed their companies' satellites by secretly
transmitting a private channel for their comms. Despite Tesher’s
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transmitting a private channel for their comms. Despite Tesher’s
expert reasoning, he wasn't tipping his hand as much as he was
proud to tell Baxter how he began to trace the radio signal to
his location.
“You are doing a great job here.” Quipped Baxter. “What do you
need me for?”
Tesher shot at him in rage, “Don’t make that mistake Baxter!
This isn’t a joke! I’m telling you I respect you, don’t insult
me.” Baxter’s eyes shrunk. It did seem momentarily he wouldn’t
die. That reality screamed back at him. Baxter just closed his
eyes as if his soul was giving up.
Tesher continued once again. “You two are talking on your
private network. I'm as impressed as I am intent on finding this
man. In the ten years, I've been a professional, no one has ever
come this close to the level of security you two employ. Now
Baxter it's your turn. Fill in the blanks for me.” Tesher set
down his gauss-wand and picked up the killjoy. His eyes poured
over the instrument with admiration. “You see I'm not relying on
the truth serum alone. I rely on the rarity of family love to
draw out what I need to know. Tell me -- or I leave you in a
pool of your own blood.” The threat now leveled.
Baxter said nothing. Instead, the lids of his eyes fell with
the weight of a heavy sigh. There was no fight left. He knew
round two means the killjoy. Baxter intended to protect this man
in even in death but a killjoy takes that freewill away. Its
sole purpose is truth by death. Its reliability is legendary.
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sole purpose is truth by death. Its reliability is legendary.
The killjoy would steal Baxter’s best intentions and turn them
on himself. Love was no match for the killjoy. However, some
spilled salt from the previous fight was a contender to the
Armbatrol 88. Lying face down in salt was Baxter’s only stroke
of luck. It would combat the truth serum and neutralize any
effect Tesher planned. Tesher didn’t notice in the least as
Baxter licked up large swaths of salt into his mouth. He’d
continue each time Tesher turned his back to Baxter.
“No, it's okay really.” Said Tesher as he began to work
around Baxter. “You'll talk anyway. I know you will.”
Baxter knew. Unless someone burst into his home to save him
-- and no one would, his life was about to end in a bloody mess
on the kitchen floor. He had an answer to the Armbatrol, would
he have another equal to the killjoy? He had never seen a
killjoy in person but from his office desk and incessant curious
nature to solve problems, Baxter had ample opportunity to access
an old web archive where information still flowed freely, even
if much of it was often false. He studied this fascinating,
gruesome instrument. Baxter knew of their lethal outcome. Once a
spy hunter runs it through your skull you enter a state of
euphoria. It lasts only a few minutes. In that time you have
left, you will answer any question asked of you. No amount of
salt will stop a killjoy. There is no surviving it. There is
little time for the victim to answer. For some it’s thirty
seconds, others have minutes. As your blood drains from your
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seconds, others have minutes. As your blood drains from your
ears you feel utter peace and joy. The instability of time to
ask questions makes the killjoy a last resort. A reliable means
to only a few answers. In the end, you die. But in that window
of questioning nothing goes unanswered. Every answer is true.
Most believe it's the blood loss that kills you. Others will
tell you it's just the final outcome of your brain being
scrambled by a buzzing wire shot through your lobes. Baxter's
natural curiosity as an engineer always questioned this; could
any person defeat such an instrument? Long ago, he determined
there might be a way, but who would ever want to find out? In
his research, he surmised that even if you could defeat the
instrument you couldn't defeat death. Now he was facing this
baneful device. Who would find him first? His wife? Please not
his daughter!
It was this moment of weakness Baxter blurted out an unforced
truth. “His name is Logan Ollera.” Tesher recognized this name,
but now he knew it was as unreal as the name Desmond Van Damn.
The Armbatrol 88 was generally effective, but seeing that Baxter
could spite it and relinquish what was probably a fake name
impressed Tesher.
“And.” prompted Tesher playing along patiently. There was no
response. Unknown to Tesher, Baxter’s solution gave him ample
strength to fight off the drug. Tesher knew with 88, the
questions must be direct to elicit a specific answer. “What does
he look like?” Tesher waited.
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“He...” Baxter fought. “He...”
“Describe him to me, Baxter.” Prompted Tesher.
“He has...” Tesher appreciated Baxter’s resolve over the
drug. Tesher stared at Baxter’s lips. It was all about to come
rolling out of Baxter’s mouth. Tesher anticipated a full
description of his face, height, along with everything he needed
to know about his next target. Then it came. “He has...”
Tesher’s eyes lit up as Baxter coughed up the answer.
“C....c....confident hair.” Tesher’s head twisted in a knot as
he couldn’t help but laugh. This answer quickly made it clear.
Baxter’s fate couldn’t come quick enough. Tesher turned to his
tool kit.
With little hope, Tesher asked an open-ended question while
he secured anchor screws into the kitchen wall. “Make the wise
decision. Tell me what he is working on.”
“How do you find a wise man?” Answered Baxter.
“Don’t play games. You won’t like my toys.”
“Look for a fool.” Finished Baxter.
“What -- is he -- working on?” Tesher repeated. He knew he
was onto something if Baxter was offering up gibberish.
Baxter had him here. He answered the question truthfully
without answering the real question. “He's solely responsible
for a project requiring that data you are holding be kept
secure. Should anything happen to him, no one he is dealing with
will work with my company to move the project forward without
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will work with my company to move the project forward without
starting completely from base level...”
“Base level?” Tesher wanted clarification.
“To us, it has no price you could pay. For others...Billions
lost. He is the trusted architect of something unimaginable. You
do realize if he doesn't make contact with me, he'll know to
make changes in his plans. Whatever you think you are after, you
will never find it. By killing me, you will trigger the end to
your trail.” Baxter just told Tesher everything without giving
up anything. It wasn’t the everything Tesher was commissioned to
find. It also frustrated Tesher because he was given vague
instructions from his employer. He resolved that if he ends up
killing both his targets and his employer is left with lost
billions, it’s his damn fault for not being specific. Although
-- Tesher was instructed not to kill the targets. Tesher had
never been the type to compromise his means of operation. His
next move was hardly risky. The killjoy would ensure the
outcome. Still, Tesher thought about his special instructions
which were more an empty threat. His employer knew he was hiring
a particularly lethal spy hunter. Tesher Soleme smiled to
himself. He truly enjoyed killing people. This job made it
harder for him and that suited him just fine.
Tesher figured he now had something to start from. He tried
once again to ease Baxter into his answers through conversation.
“Yes, but I will still know who he is, and he won't know who I
am.” It pleased Tesher to say that. His own eyes turned towards
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am.” It pleased Tesher to say that. His own eyes turned towards
Baxter as he smiled, and yet Tesher’s smile never reached his
eyes.
Tesher’s hardened features would allow no more than a smug
stare which was met with equal defiance. “Are you not listening?
I'm not going to tell you who he is. You know that.”
Tesher taunted him back enunciating, “What is his real name
Bax-ter?”
“Nndddd, nnnnnnnnddd.” Baxter fought with gnashing teeth and
pain throughout his jaw. His head began to throb as if a warning
it would burst if he didn't answer.
Sensing Baxter may break, Tesher asked again. “What is your
friend's name?”
Baxter told himself, he wasn't protecting a friend. What he
was protecting amounted to a brother, Baxter fought again.
“Nnnnnddd aaaaah.”
“What is the project? Does it have a code name?” Projects
always have code names. This leading question was another tactic
Tesher had lined up to draw out answers or clues ahead of the
killjoy. Silence. Baxter was now able to fight back with
silence.
Tesher now wondered why Baxter fought so hard to suppress the
name while answering other questions. Nothing could be gained
from the position Baxter was in. Tesher continued to read
Baxter’s answers and actions. Baxter wasn't being forthright, he
may be mixing truth with lies.
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Fighting through the stress Baxter continued. “I d-d-don't
know. You've eavesdropped our c-c-comms. You know I d-d-don't
know.”
“Why is this project in the hands of one man?” Asked Tesher.
He leaned over and removed Baxter's broken comm from his wrist
and slipped it into his pocket. It may be useful later.
Baxter was a dead man, and he knew it. But he also deduced
that the spy hunter didn't know what he was ultimately searching
for. He was obviously on a haystack assignment in which Baxter
had a bounty of information the spy hunter was unaware of. They
don't come often but when they do, haystacks test the patience
of even the best spy hunters. It's when an employer doesn't give
you specific details of what you are after, keeping much need-
to-know information out of a spy hunter's hands. Baxter took no
joy in answering Tesher's probing questions except for this one.
“Because every acquisition he's ever made has been kept
secret -- he's an itinerant phantom in the industry. He's a face
with no soul.” Could Baxter keep Tesher focused on his chase and
not the goal? He needed to keep Tesher from learning more than
he was bargaining for. Baxter knew success was in achieving one
goal. He could not give up Dalton’s real name. Tesher could
never have the next target. Baxter counted on that. He
understood Tesher’s plan. Now he had his own plan. If only he
could live to see the look on Tesher’s face if it succeeds.
Baxter continued to feed Tesher bits and pieces and his last
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Baxter continued to feed Tesher bits and pieces and his last
sentence was cut short by what now appeared Tesher’s
frustration, “He’s alone and lives...”
“He lives alone. A lonely life. Give me a break Baxter, this
is a soulless world. Save philosophy for someone with a
conscience.”
“He's the best there is at keeping a secret; a soulless
peripatetic.” Baxter further explained. Everything he just said
was literal truth. His hope was to tell as much truth without
saying anything of relevance. He knew now remnants of the
Armbatrol 88 were in his system and forcing him to speak. He
focused to subvert it as best he could through controlled
compliance.
“A man like that lives a lonely life. Boo-hoo. I'm not
impressed. We all live lonely lives. But let's assume you are
telling the truth, Baxter.” Tesher laughed as he went on, “Ha!
Of course, you're telling the truth! Even lonely men give up
secrets Baxter.” It was becoming clear to Tesher the truth serum
was opening Baxter up. He quickly spun a chair and sat at full
attention prompting Baxter to continue.
“Logan is a stolid man. Friends in every city but the company
knows he's indiscernible.”
“What is the company name?”
“Vee-vee-vee.” He sighed as if he needed to recover.
“Ooo. VPS.” This new information stunned Tesher. VPS was the
last name on his list if he had one. Yet this new starting point
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last name on his list if he had one. Yet this new starting point
made sense. In the farthest back of his mind, it made sense. It
confirmed his wildest speculation. It is just gone to prove
one’s instincts are always best. Tesher’s confidence showed in
his commentary. “The most private of the big ten. You two are
well vested. He must have one place he travels he calls home?”
Tesher questioned.
“Yes!” Baxter felt his head splitting from his fight against
the Armbatrol 88.
“Where is the place your friend calls home?” Asked Tesher.
“He’s not my friend.” Baxter glared.
“Not your friend.” Tesher immediately answered aloud.
“Not my friend,” Baxter repeated. He knew the next question.
And it would be hell to dodge.
“Is this person family?” Suddenly Baxter loved this question.
He could answer this truthfully. In doing so, this spy hunter
would never be able to find him.
“No.” Answered Baxter. And despite it being the truth, it was
also a lie.
The frustration returned to Tesher’s face. He tried to
disguise it. “Let’s go back then. What city does this person
call home?”
Baxter's head dropped with shame, “Aeroplane City.” He was
beginning to have trouble keeping the words inside himself. His
struggle to give up some information the Armbatrol demanded
began to create more and more physical pain by withholding it.
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began to create more and more physical pain by withholding it.
The salt he licked off the floor had counteracted the drug some,
but the drug still had a lot of bite.
Seizing the opportunity Tesher interjected, “What's his name?
What’s his fucking name, Baxter!”
Nothing. Baxter shut down. The pain of withholding Dalton’s
real name made him all but pass out completely. The sweat on his
face was pooling. The remaining salt on the floor made his face
burn in the sweat as he collapsed. Tesher needed to get his prey
back on track before he simply passed out from stress. He
returned to his leading questions to prevent Baxter from
blacking out.
“Why is Aeroplane City the truth?” Asked Tesher.
“Because it is true. And because you won't be able to track
him there, you know that. Aeroplane City is the one place no spy
hunter wants to track a man.” Baxter didn’t stammer on this
answer.
Tesher felt the burden of his prey passing out was no longer
an immediate concern. “You have a point,” Tesher answered. “But
I'm not your typical spy hunter. I’ll take that challenge.”
Tesher leaned back cocking his head in satisfaction.
“You? One man?” Baxter began to laugh with what satisfaction
he had left in life.
Tesher’s body turned in agreement. “You’re right.” Then he
smiled a knowing smile.
“What does he look like? When will he be there again?”
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“Will you let me go? Just leave me tied up somewhere a week,
but let me live!”
“I'm sorry. Did I say that?” But the idea did fit in with
Tesher’s instructions to get his information without killing his
targets. He turned his head towards Baxter as if he was
considering it. Then he taunted him. He turned his head just a
bit further once again to demonstrate he was never serious. This
may have broken Baxter.
“Why is this important to you?” Baxter demanded. Meanwhile,
his mind raced to the end of every possible outcome in extending
this conversation. Nothing could save him. Every outcome was
death. The only choice left was how to die. People die in
accidents never knowing their time had come, others die from
disease in a fading life but with the opportunity to have
dignity. This short notice was as close as Baxter would get to
have a choice. Baxter’s mind raced. Tesher was right, most
everyone on the planet lives an isolated existence within their
soul. Then there were those like himself. Those with families,
fortunate enough to have blood relatives with emotional
attachments. Baxter felt he had little time to make choices. He
looked off in the distance at his daughter’s guitar resting in
its stand. He’ll never see her play it again. She’ll never have
him to play for. Baxter knew she would find him. He knew how he
wanted her to find him, with a shred of dignity. In this choice,
he would also save the one person this man was out to find --
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he would also save the one person this man was out to find --
and if the mood struck, kill. In all this Baxter accepted he was
about to die. Baxter could have one element of satisfaction. He
could take control of one last thing in his life. His death.
This situation was without precedent. Tesher decided to
violate his creed of being the one to give up information. “I
know you’ve been telling me the truth for good reason. My
employer did tell me it's worth a lifetime of money for several
entities. You’ve confirmed that. He also told me that you two
would most likely separate the information between you two as a
safeguard. I need what both of you have. I’m certain what’s on
this data dot is half of a complete set. You two are just too
smart to keep what I need all in one place.” Tesher paused
pretending he didn't mean to share that information. “Damn. Now
there is the reason why you will die.”
“But I'm telling you what you want to know!” Baxter lashed.
What Baxter could not comprehend was that he was as vital a
prize as the person Tesher was in search of. It seemed this spy
hunter was asking the wrong questions, starting at the end
instead of the beginning. This made it easier to lie with the
Armbatrol 88 in his system. He simply did not realize Tesher was
sent to find what Baxter had been blackmailed over once before.
Years before.
Now all these years later, a lethal spy hunter was given
vague instructions to get whatever Baxter Robertson and his
partner were responsible for creating. Tesher was told so little
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partner were responsible for creating. Tesher was told so little
of what he was looking for, it’s impossible to find. Tesher felt
pressure of his own from this job. He was given credit for being
able to find information without knowing what it was he was
looking for. Tesher recalled the last words of his meeting with
his employer. “Give me more than this. You want me to track one
man to another and bring you what both of them are hiding.”
“Look. Mr. Soleme. It may take weeks. Surveillance of Baxter
Robertson could take months to yield results. But eventually,
Baxter will make contact with his counterpart. By that time, he
and his partner should give you a clear idea of what it is you
need to bring back to me. And let me be clear. If you poke
around to learn more than you should -- if you run with my
assets, I have the resources to pay every merc on the planet to
bring you back to me in a thousand pieces. It’s advisable you
learn just enough to bring me what I need from Baxter and his
counterpart. Despite your propensity for killing, do not retire
these targets without retrieving my assets first.”
Tesher looked down at Baxter. “Yes, and for a moment there I
thought I could trust what you were saying was true. Now you've
left me with the difficult task of finding out what parts of
that story are true.” Tesher couldn’t get the read on Baxter he
needed. Baxter was protecting this man. A man that was neither
friend nor family, who does that? He deduced that Baxter was
willing to lie for a man he had to care for. He must work with
this person inside the company. It’s not someone outside his
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this person inside the company. It’s not someone outside his
company. Tesher thought of the call from this man. The comm call
Tesher intercepted was free and easy except for the cryptic
discussion. When it came to interrogating subjects, Tesher had
never seen anyone put another life ahead of their own; meaning
only one thing. These two men were close. Very close. Blood
close? So who is this man? He has no living relatives. Even his
father is dead. All his research into the background of both
Baxter and his alias Desmond came up empty. The why no longer
mattered to Tesher. What it did mean is Tesher's hand has now
been forced.
Tesher used the Armbatrol 88 effectively, subjects talk when
you bait them and trick them. Yet direct questions allowed
Baxter to win the war against the truth serum when he knew what
questions he wanted to fight from within. As long as Baxter
answered questions with truths in them, his body experienced
some relief. To lie would cause pain so Baxter’s responses were
just enough for him to withstand the drugs force.
Baxter struggled in his ropes. Knowing he wouldn't get far,
Tesher let him. It took several failed attempts but he managed
to flip his body over to his back. With his head no longer
twisted to one side his eyes met Tesher's. This time there was
anguish in a fading voice. “I am telling you what you need to
know.”
Tesher began to screw an anchor into the wall. Squeezing the
eyelet of the anchor screw left dimples on the flesh of his
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eyelet of the anchor screw left dimples on the flesh of his
fingers as he twisted it.
Tesher muted his frustration in the failing truth serum. Once
again he returned to Baxter's bindings. “You are neither telling
me what I need to know, nor telling me the truth. You would
think a man whose life was hanging in the balance would spill
his guts. Instead, I'm going to have to spill your brains.
Ollera could be a common name, thanks for nothing. I don't know
of any vested citizens with common names. It's impossible the
man you described has the surname of Ollera.” He turned to
think. “You screwed up Baxter,” said Tesher. Baxter was about to
futilely strain against his bonds but at that moment Tesher
jerked Baxter's body to one side as the binding of rope was
looped through the first wall anchor. The spy hunter had begun
the process of immobilizing Baxter's head. “This isn't personal
Baxter. Tell me what I need to know and make it true and I will
just snap your neck. Your family won't have to come home to a
mess.”
“Does life mean that little to you? Where is your humanity?”
Asked Baxter.
“I am a spy hunter Baxter. This trade is not for the weak of
heart, and I lead a lonely life.” He mocked. “And how dare you
speak of humanity. What era are you living in? Next, you'll try
having me believe you love your wife. You could have won that
fight and I would be dead. You would have drug me out to your
curb with the garbage and no one would have asked why. Would you
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curb with the garbage and no one would have asked why. Would you
care? No. You'd just want answers and move your family.”
“You broke into my home!”
“You have nothing left to negotiate Baxter. Don't cave on me
now and leave this world without your dignity. You've been lying
to me to protect this man. You know I'm not going to let you
live. We've both run out of options.” Said Tesher. Both men
understood each other.
Baxter found it impossible to believe this moment was taking
place. Just an hour ago he was about to cook eggs and a waffle.
Every particle of his being begged to wake up from a horrible
nightmare. “You're a philistine. What do you know of dignity?”
Tesher continued his work. “See that is where you are wrong
Baxter. You expected some Neanderthal. We are not lumbering
brutes, we are called spy hunters for good reason. We need to be
as cunning as we are cold. I can't say I'm sorry Baxter. This is
my job. I'm not as angry as when we fought but you won't make me
feel guilty that I must take your life. This is my job. Don't
expect me to care. I don't. But if you tell me what parts of
that story were true, I'll kill you quickly and give you a bit
of respect as you exit this earth.”
“Respect?” Baxter's eyes emptied and descended to the
ground. The answer told his assailant what that offer meant to
him in a time like this. He did not want to accept that he had
to die yet he understood that this man would not let him live no
matter what truth he revealed. Baxter's only choice now was how
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matter what truth he revealed. Baxter's only choice now was how
to die. Would it be with dignity or shame? And which shame was
worse? Was it better to tell this spy hunter what he needed to
know dying a clean death, or death by killjoy? Both deaths would
be unbearable for his family when they found him. The killjoy
would mean they would find him in a pool of blood and that he
died through forced interrogation on the worst of terms. Baxter
fought to collect his voice through anguished sobs. “I'm not
going to tell you.”
“Why are this man's secrets important to you?” Tesher asked.
But he had already considered that question before asking.
“Baxter, you're a fool to protect this man. You have a family. I
could kill them too you know. This world has no value for human
life, yet in my line of work for all the killing that we do, we
do have our ethics you know. Without them, our line of work
would be foul and reprehensible, no one would pay us, that's for
certain. I'm going to kill you, don't make me kill your family
too.” As Tesher said this his skill as a detective was computing
on the fly. All this talk about family made him think. What
makes a man's life important to another man beyond the grave?
Tesher began to think aloud “...Family.” He realized. “I am all
he has.”
Baxter looked at Tesher without answering. Tesher knew he was
right.
“You do realize what's next?” Said Tesher rhetorically. His
voice was as unsympathetic as the cold floor pressed up against
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voice was as unsympathetic as the cold floor pressed up against
Baxter's battered face. He shifted his body again to speak
clearly.
“You tell me I should die with dignity. Dead is dead. Blood
or no blood.” Just then Baxter spits blood from his mouth to the
floor.
“I go where the hard money leads me, Baxter.” Tesher had just
finished setting the second anchor in the opposing wall. Now he
methodically placed a reinforced synthetic ring around Baxter's
head. It sat on his head like a crown but snugly in place, the
crown below the apex of Baxter's cranium. On each side was a
large ring. Tesher fed the cord through them, then he ran the
binding cord through the first anchor eyelet. “You should be
proud. This job is paying more than any other in my career. I've
never worked on contingency before but the amount of gold marks
this will pay -- it was impossible to say no.”
“I know what you don’t. If you kill me, I take a secret to
the grave that can never be brought back. There is no way you
are being paid to kill me.”
“No, I'm not. As of now, you are, 'out-of-pocket'. So why
make yourself a wasted expense? Tell me who Logan is. I want his
real name.”
“I don't want to die,” Baxter whispered to himself, feeling his
humanity was being stolen from him.
Tesher heard him. “No one does Baxter.” He continued his
work. “Where can I find him?” Tesher asked. There was a pause of
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work. “Where can I find him?” Tesher asked. There was a pause of
expectation.
“Highwind.”
“Is he there now?” Asked Tesher.
“No. He's not. No one knows his itinerary but me. Logan
Ollera is his travel V.I.” Giving up this information devastated
Baxter inside but the pain was excruciating. He needed relief.
“You -- How are you doing this? I have to give you credit.
88 delivers piercing pain. You just take it!” Sang Tesher.
“Although I do believe you that he's only using his alias to
travel. You put up a good fight Baxter. I'll give you that. I
shall give you one last chance to clean up this story.” Tesher
held out his wrist and tapped out the command. A recording of a
conversation began from one of Tesher's intercepted calls over a
parabolic mic. The call was clear but the recording hissed and
scratched over the words.
“Mr. Van Dam.” spoke a careful voice. (Static)
“We have a problem.” Answered Baxter. (Hiss)
“We?” Answered the voice.
“Yes. Remember that perfect batch of cookies.” (More static)
“Yeah. I do.” Replied the voice.
“We need to use your oven.” Said Baxter.
“I thought we agreed the recipe and cookware would remain
separated...”
Tesher paused the recording, “Well, Baxter. Where’s the
cookware?” Tesher was proud at this moment. He truly believed he
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cookware?” Tesher was proud at this moment. He truly believed he
had solved his employer's tricky riddle. “No, don’t tell me yet
Baxter! You will!” Tesher began to smile that turned into a
silent laugh. He pressed play again.
“You can’t say no,” Baxter stated through his alias.
“If it’s that serious...”
“It is.” Answered Baxter.
“I won’t be back in town for over a month. Can it wait that
long?” Asked the voice.
“Yes. But if sooner...”
“Ship it to me.”
“Are you sure.”
“If it’s serious....”
“It’s serious,” Answered Baxter as Desmond.
“When can you send it?”
“I already did.”
“Perfect.”
Tesher stopped the recording and now Tesher's voice climbed.
“I’m impressed. I am! An encrypted call and you’re still talking
in double-speak! You two are really paranoid. As if that wasn’t
a problem enough I need an answer to, both Logan Ollera and
Desmond Van Dam's identities go back ten years! I stopped
crosschecking from there. That means if Desmond Van Dam is you,
Baxter, then who is Logan Ollera really? You two are operating
the most complex virtual I.D.'s I've ever crossed. Any spy
hunter including myself would have never questioned the
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hunter including myself would have never questioned the
authenticity of these I.D.'s. -- and that has never been done
before. Never. Shit like this created my trade! Sure, people
using bogus identities to start a new life with or live a second
life with are the reason spy hunters exist but we haven’t had a
challenge in forever. You two are an impressive pair. And you’re
both into something huge Baxter. Either you and this Logan
Ollera stole someone’s identity or these are the world’s only
passable V.I.’s.” Uttering these words blew Tesher’s mind. He
leaned his head back and closed his eyes to concentrate. He
began to think aloud. “You can only be one person so logically
it's obvious. Despite these V.I.'s being perfect -- they are
still V.I.'s. You've done it, Baxter. You two are the only men
in existence to pass off a V.I. as real. And for that alone, I
just can’t allow you to live, nor him. You both need to go. My
employer is going to pissed that I’m violating a non-kill order
but this is for the good of society. On principle, you and your
partner need to go. I was warned you may have offer something
tangible in return for your life so...”
Baxter cut in. “I can give you one.” By that he meant a V.I.
for Tesher himself.
“Wow.” This honestly stunned Tesher. “That’s tempting.” He
thought. “Honest.” And then the gears stopped turning in
Tesher's mind. “No. And while I’d love to have a dual identity
like you, this is for the greater good. And frankly, I like my
name. It has an ominous ring. So I’m Sorry Baxter. Nice play.
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name. It has an ominous ring. So I’m Sorry Baxter. Nice play.
Damn nice play. Back to business. You going to give me his name
and I end you with dignity or do you want your family to find
you in a mess?”
Baxter chose his answer. “No.”
Tesher looked at the killjoy. “For such a smart man you make
no sense. That threat on the counter is now a guarantee.” Tesher
was now finishing up fully immobilizing Baxter. He passed the
time offering one final praise to Baxter. “I couldn't crack your
V.I.'s. Not in a hundred years” Tesher said openly musing. “Not
to me -- and to my knowledge no one will.” Tesher couldn't help
himself. He had to give Baxter and his mystery man credit for
possessing the only two virtual I.D.'s he could never crack and
still this wasn't what he was sent to find. Tesher's mood broke
back to the present. “I'm leaving here with his real name
Baxter, and I'm leaving with what you are hiding. Give me those
answers. I don’t want to do it this way.”
Baxter was thinking ahead of how this situation would end. It
was now Baxter decided to give the spy hunter a measured amount
of information. Dalton would dispose of the V.I. the moment he
learned of his death. He won’t ever track Logan Ollera. All he
has to do is keep the name Dalton Vrees from leaving his lips
and he will die in peace. What remained to motivate Baxter to
talk could only be attributed to the anxiety and shock his body
was experiencing.
Baxter began, “Logan Ollera is a Virtual Identity I created
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Baxter began, “Logan Ollera is a Virtual Identity I created
for someone... he's a brother to me.” Here again, Baxter was
able to concede to the truth serum and keep enough truth hidden
in those words.
“Ollera? Robertson? I assume his real name is Robertson?”
Said Tesher.
“Our Virtual Identity has been like magic until now. You are
the only man to know the complexity of these dual identities.”
Tesher continued his work, thinking over the potential truth
of Baxter's words. He stared at Baxter deciding the truth. He
needed the name. The real name.
Baxter had a harder time delivering his next lie. “I'm the
sole programmer who has built numerous virtual identities no spy
hunter will ever crack. Believe it, spy hunter, killing me will
put a price on your head. To a handful of men at VPS, I'm a
commodity of extreme value. They'll want retribution once you
kill me.” Tesher knew for a fact this was an empty threat. He
knew why it was an empty threat. And even if the threat had
merit, fees to collect on spy hunters are never claimed. Spy
hunters don't hunt spy hunters, they are not only ethically
bound to that creed, but they also honor it in self-
preservation. It's a line spy hunters refuse to cross.
The tidbit of information about programming impenetrable
virtual identities Baxter fed to Tesher was interesting.
Normally he'd extract more about it from Baxter. He was too
focused on his present task. The enormity of finding Baxter’s
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focused on his present task. The enormity of finding Baxter’s
partner overshadowed the clue lying before him. Tesher would
later regret this oversight. The spy hunter had one more man to
catch and find some sort of private tech these two have created.
His tunnel vision in looking for hardware obscured the fact that
hardware was how Baxter and his partner created their
unbreakable aliases. Tesher didn’t want to rely on finding
Baxter’s partner through his alias, but Tesher had spent days
researching everyone connected to Baxter Robertson as Mr.
Desmond Van Dam. Those interviews proved him out and passed that
name off as a real identity -- something Tesher never
encountered before. He had no idea he was communicating with a
machine running complex artificial intelligence programmed to
protect those identities.
Tesher reasoned whoever Logan Ollera really is, he most likely
works at VPS with Baxter. If true, it isn’t the filter he had
hoped for. VPS is a legacy from the Pan Global Era. It’s one of
the few companies spanning cities, teeming with thousands of
employees, each with their own research and development,
engineering departments. Delivering this information to his
contact would not be enough to warrant payment. It will be
better to chase this lead. With the target working for the same
organization he can’t break into the VPS network. It’s a
blessing in disguise. VPS has a formidably secure network no one
breaches. Even for a spy hunter, it would come at great risk.
Baxter needs to either give up Logan Ollera’s real name or
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Baxter needs to either give up Logan Ollera’s real name or
confirm other vitals. This trail can’t dead-end here.
Baxter would meet an ugly end but Tesher knew clear the first
and only question he planned to ask once he fired the Killjoy
through Baxter's ears. What is Logan Ollera’s real name?
Tesher had now finished mounting the two eye-hooks. A
separate cord was bound to each side of Baxter's head. Each side
ran to opposite sides of the room and back to the center where
Tesher could draw his hogtied victim tight and tie it off.
Baxter's body would be completely immobile. There will be no way
to twist and turn to avoid the killjoy. Tesher only needed to
hold the gun’s spring-loaded wire to one ear and shoot it
through the other. As the wire fried his brain, Baxter would
answer any question with a joyful smile until suddenly, he’ll
collapse dead.
Tesher had a plan. He knows Baxter wants to keep the name.
But once the killjoy is fired into Baxter’s thick skull, that
name is all Tesher’s. Why not get the ancillary answers for
free?
“Baxter, I have to hand it to you. You are smart. You know
once I shoot this killjoy through your ears, I have a very
limited amount of time to get the truth out of you. I need to
make my questions count as some people die quickly, while others
take longer. I can't be sure just how many questions I'll get to
ask – I may only get one. I'll make a special arrangement with
you. On the honor of my trade I promise you, if you tell me
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you. On the honor of my trade I promise you, if you tell me
where this man is going, I will not wait around and kill your
family when they get home.”
Baxter and Tesher locked eyes. Tesher gave Baxter the time he
needed to decide if he was going to accept the deal. It seemed
Tesher was about to lose patience when Baxter answered. “Okay.”
Baxter took the bait.
“Tell me which flight manifests. Is Logan's real name on a
manifest? What does he look like? Tell me -- and your family
lives.”
Baxter paused. A true pause that Tesher knew was being
thought out. He had to risk this one truth in trade of his wife
and daughter's life. Baxter knew this spy hunter could never
catch his prey. “You swear on your trade you won’t harm my
family?”
“As much as I do like killing Baxter. I have no interest in
killing your family. On the honor of my trade, if you answer
this question. They are in the clear. No games. No one else will
touch them either.”
Baxter answered. “He's due to arrive in Aeroplane City in two
weeks, I don't know the manifest because I don't know what city
he's in now. I only know that in two weeks he has a meeting
August 2nd.”
“That’s a Monday.” Considered Tesher. “I need a description,
what does he look like?”
“165 centimeters, dark hair with sideburns that end in
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“165 centimeters, dark hair with sideburns that end in
daggers.”
The threat and the promise, combined with the truth serum
jarred some much-needed information for Tesher. “I need a name
Baxter. I need his real name.”
“I told you. You are on your honor not to kill my family.”
Intensity and perspiration displayed Baxter’s stress from not
spitting out Dalton’s real name.
“What does D-Res mean?” Asked Tesher. His patience was gone.
“What?” Baxter's answer couldn't have been more surprised. It
was a question not driven by Tesher’s employer but curiosity
from overhearing it in his private conversations with the
mysterious Logan caller. Tesher looked at Baxter as if about to
kill him. There was a long hard stare from Tesher. Could it be
that Baxter had no idea what this question meant? Baxter was
committed to saving everyone but himself.
The two men locked eyes. It was clear. This time Baxter would
not answer. Just then Tesher pulled the cord around Baxter's
head snapping his body upright and vertical. Baxter's eyes
became wider than any other moment in his life. Baxter continued
in a resigned hush. “I love you, Sarah.”
“How quaint.” Said Tesher in disgust. He began to talk aloud
as if talking to himself. “People spend lifetimes in selfish
narcissism. Only in their dying breath do they ever think of
anyone but themselves.” Tesher lowered the killjoy to Baxter's
left ear taking his time to ensure the shot was on the mark. If
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left ear taking his time to ensure the shot was on the mark. If
not precise it would not exit the right ear rendering the
killjoy useless. The demeanor of both men changed in an instant.
Tesher became vexed while Baxter stopped fighting as if his soul
had spoken. A part of Baxter wished beyond reason this could be
a nightmare. He was entering a state of shock from the intense
fear of what was about to happen to his body. He closed his eyes
and softly repeated his love for his wife. “Sarah...Sarah...”
The words died in a whisper.
“I respect you Baxter but you did not choose a dignified
exit.” Said the spy hunter.
As Tesher delivered the shot Baxter stuck out his tongue. The
wire hit the dense tissue of Baxter's brain yet could not travel
to the other side gently ending its trajectory missing its
expected path of exiting his left ear canal. There was no quiet
hum from the buzzing wire. He was dead. Baxter's timing was
flawless. It needed to be flawless, and his theory was correct.
Baxter's jaw and teeth reflexively shut on his tongue diverting
the barbed wire errantly into his skull killing him instantly.
His biting motion extended his jaw – the killjoy missed its
mark. Baxter had left this earth on his terms, with his self-
respect. Tesher was every bit astonished. The surprise left him
angry enough to kill Baxter's wife and daughter were it not for
the honor of his trade. He looked down at Baxter’s dead body,
“You better hope they don’t come home before I leave.”
Yes, spy hunters kill without remorse but they do kill with
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Yes, spy hunters kill without remorse but they do kill with
purpose. If you carry a sloppy record, new employers come few
and far. And although this job would pay enough to retire on, he
had not earned a fraction of a gold bar yet. Right now, he
couldn't justify killing Baxter's family to his contact. All the
more reason they would live. Perhaps when the job is done he'll
come back and settle it. For all his rational thinking the
monster within him wanted out. “Dammit!” Cried out Tesher as he
threw the killjoy at the floor. It skidded into pieces. He
stopped himself quickly to collect his thoughts taking a huge
breath through his nostrils. In a calming moment, Tesher
considered what he had to work with. He was paid to get a real
name, but he had enough to use. He collected some information
that he could report to his client. It was enough to keep the
assignment going. Tesher took this personal. He needed the
satisfaction of killing this guy Baxter died for. Tesher even
felt a sense of intellectual greatness as he convinced himself
that had he not used every other means to gather information
from Baxter, he would have walked away with nothing. This
outcome meant Tesher would have to cast a wider net to catch his
prey. He will even need help. Turning to the lifeless body
Tesher shook his head in disbelief. He witnessed the impossible
with his own eyes. He had never known a killjoy to fail. What he
witnessed by Baxter's intelligence was a secret that not only
Baxter took to his grave, so would Tesher. To be sure, Tesher
pulled the killjoy from Baxter’s lifeless body. He made a crude
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pulled the killjoy from Baxter’s lifeless body. He made a crude
exit hole out his other ear and cut out his tongue. He must have
tripped an alarm when ransacking the house. Security sirens were
wailing in the distance. It was time to go.
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