Post by Dorling on Jun 10, 2018 3:57:28 GMT -5
Luke’s Bar, Las Vegas. 30th May, 2100HRS.
Dorling smirked as he looked across the table at Esparza. Her baseball cap was pulled down low and she had tied her hair in a ponytail
‘You’re really looking incognito there.’
‘This really is no laughing matter, Dorling. You realise that you just waltzed into the hideout of one of the most surveilled individuals in the US and then shot off to China without a word to anyone? You’re all over several different RADARs now.’
‘So you’re wearing a baseball cap because?’
‘Because it would look less than acceptable to my employers – the FBI, remember them? – to be seen meeting somebody like you off the books.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘So what did you and Tasacs discuss? Why didn’t he hurt you? I assume that he wasn’t the one who tried to kill you? If he was you gave him an easy second shot and he didn’t take it.’
‘Well, he says he wasn’t. But then again, if he knows that you guys and god knows whoever else are watching him, he wouldn’t let me be seen entering his premises, never to be seen again alive.’
‘I suppose. What did he say then?’
‘He said that me helping put Santoro in jail has had very little effect on his business, and that if anything he’ll probably do pretty well out of it.’
‘So you think he’s looking to expand his business into areas left vacant by Santoro’s disappearance?’
‘I don’t know, that’s something for you guys to look into. I don’t care what he does as long as he doesn’t try to kill me, again or not.’
‘Anything else?’
‘He said that he thought Gutierrez is a more likely villain here. He has lost a big customer and a big supply chain with Santoro hitting the slammer. He said I should go see him.’
‘And that’s all he said?’
Dorling lied. He had to. He wasn’t going to tell Carmen about the potential delivery to Gutierrez no matter how many questions she asked.
‘Yep, nothing else.’
‘And then he just let you go?’
‘Yeah, even referred to me as ‘friend.’ Don’t worry, I know gangsters kill their friends but he was really trying to sell the fact that he didn’t try to kill me.’
‘Which makes you think that maybe he did?’
‘Won’t know until I speak to all of the suspects.’
‘There’s no way that you can do that. Gutierrez is a psychopath – I don’t want you going anywhere near him.’
‘Aw, that’s cute. You’re really worried about me huh? I always do what I told, you know that.’
‘Dorling, I’m serious. This guy won’t hesitate to kill you, even if he hasn’t tried to already. Think about your friends. Think about Katy and April. Don’t be reckless.’
Ah yes, Katy. Dorling had been making daily visits to see her every time he was in Vegas. She had shown few signs of improvement, though the staff at the hospital had been very supportive and optimistic about her eventual recovery. He was sceptical about how much of their optimism was rooted in medical science, however, as every time he was in the hospital he felt little more than depression and despair. He wished with all of his heart that there was something he could do but wasn’t sure his abilities stretched beyond attempting to make sure he wasn’t killed. Cable’s offer still loomed in the background, but Dorling was equally as sceptical of an offer of the ‘best doctors’ considering the ones in Vegas seemed pretty bloody competent and, besides keeping her alive, they seemed completely lost with regards to any kind of curative measures.
‘I am thinking about Katy and April, I rarely think about anything else. I can’t protect them if I’m dead, and I stand less chance of staying alive if those that are out to kill me can continue with their plans.’
‘Dorling. Be careful.’
Shake shack parking lot, Las Vegas. 31st May, 2030HRS.
Having received the not-so-subtle text message indicating that he should be in the parking lot (in his hastily purchased and not very reliable Ford Pinto – that’s what happens when assassins destroy your ride), Dorling arrived 5 minutes early and was expecting to be met by some Eastern European henchmen with a cache of weapons for him to take to Gutierrez. However, he was taken aback when Viktor Tasacs himself knocked on the passenger window and took a seat beside him in the car.
‘This car is a piece of shit.’
‘Somebody exploded my Jeep, you probably heard about it.’
‘Now, now Mr Dorling. I have already told you that I had nothing to do with that.’
‘And I already told you that I don’t really believe you on that matter.’
‘That is your choice, my conscience is clear.’
‘I find that very hard to believe.’
‘You can believe what you want to, I came here because you agreed to do a job for me and do a job you must.’
‘I want it placed on record that I agreed under duress.’
‘The record does not care about that. Now shut up and listen.’
Dorling looked intently at Tasacs. He made himself remember how dangerous the man facing him could be.’
‘Good, you are silent. You must take this package to Teofilo Gutierrez and he must know that it is from me – he will be expecting it.’
Dorling looked down into the passenger foot well. A package around about the size you’d need to fit a magic 8 ball in was at Tasacs’ feet.
‘You will not open the package, you will not examine the package. You will hand the package to Teofilo Gutierrez and he will open it, you will not open it for him. Do you understand?’
‘This seems like a straightforward plan, but I seem to remember a lot of people telling me how unpredictable our friend Teo can be – what if he wants to change the plan?’
‘Then it is up to you to keep things on track.’
‘Right, I’ll use my powers of persuasion to tell a crazy Colombian drug lord what to do in his own premises.’
‘That is your job.’
‘And where will I find Mr Gutierrez?’
‘You will not. I have made it clear that you are looking to meet with him, I am confident that he will find you.’
‘Any idea when? You realise I’m wrestling in France in less than 2 weeks?’
‘Oh it will not be long, I have made it clear that you carry for me something that he will be very interested in.’
‘Made it clear to who, exactly?’
‘The mythical criminal underground of course. You ask too many questions. Mr Dorling, trust me.’
‘I don’t want to offend you Viktor but you know that’s not going to happen.’
‘Perhaps you are not so stupid after all. Good luck Mr Dorling.’
And with that, Tasacs got out of the car and went on his way. Dorling looked at the package.
‘Fuck.’
Somewhere in Vegas, some time on 2nd June.
Dorling didn’t expect his meeting with Gutierrez to go smoothly. He didn’t expect it to be an enjoyable experience. He also didn’t think that it would be a polite ‘hello, how are you’ kind of deal and, well, he was right on all counts.
Gutierrez and his gang are known for being wealthy and, despite his reputation for being a complete psychopath, they are pretty organised. They were obviously aware that Dorling would be a hard man to meet without somebody wanting to watch, and they had taken extreme steps to prevent that.
It was with resigned surprise, if that is even a thing, that Dorling observed four people loading his Pinto into the back of a panel truck in the underground parking lot at his gym. Clever, he thought – this would mean that anybody tailing him wouldn’t think he’d left. He smiled awkwardly as he approached and was about to talk when a hood was thrust over his head and he was bundled into the back of the van alongside his car.
He tried to get some conversation from his captors but, of course, they were tight-lipped, so he leaned back on the side of the truck and tried to relax as it bumped along undetermined roads for an undetermined amount of time. He might have even fallen asleep. He was expecting a beating at some point so he decided to relax into it.
When he was shaken awake he was gruffly handled through a few doorways and dumped on to a chair. The hood was pulled from his head and, after his eyes adjusted to the sudden inrush of light, he saw that he was sitting in what looked like a stock room. Where exactly, he had no idea. He was between two rows of metal shelving, various car parts upon them. A quick turn of his head revealed that there were several more rows both to the left and right.
In front of him, sitting on a chair of his own and smoking what was clearly a ‘marijuana cigarette’ was Teofilo Gutierrez. He as a fairly skinny man, with an unkempt mousy brown goatee on his skinny, tattooed face. He was shirtless, showing off the tattoos that covered most of his torso. In his lap was the package, which he’d obviously liberated from the trunk of the Pinto. He was fiddling with it but put it on the shelving unit next to him when he realised Dorling was looking at him.
‘You know what is in there?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You didn’t take a peek?’
‘Tasacs told me not to.’
‘And that’s who you are? A little lapdog for the Hungarian pig? I expected more of you.’
‘Well, sorry to disappoint.’
Gutierrez leapt from his seat and hit Dorling with a solid right hook.
‘I don’t want none of your shit. You shut the fuck up unless I ask you a damned question.’
Dorling raised an eyebrow and spat the blood from his mouth on to the floor.
‘I know your deal. You think I tried to kill you and you’ve come here to get your revenge or beg me to stop or some shit like that. I don’t care about your reasons, I don’t want you here. You come with attention. Why do you think somebody like me would give a shit about some loser like you?’
‘I put your buddy Santoro in jail. I ended his organisation.’
‘My buddy? MY BUDDY? Do you know something about the fucking asshole Santoro that I didn’t my man? Because that piece of shit was a low-balling, money grabbing, slimy little Italian whore and I’m glad he’s gone. I didn’t like him. I didn’t need him. I tolerated him. I tolerated him paying low for my merchandise because he was one of the few cockroaches around here that was too big for me to step on. But you took care of that for me cabron. You think I would kill you for that?’
‘You’re the second person who has said something similar.’
‘You gotta learn, gangsters are never friends.’
‘So you don’t think that Tasacs tried to kill me?’
‘I don’t give a fuck. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s like me, he likes to kill.’
Well that made Dorling feel a little uneasy.
‘If I were you I’d look at the cops hombre – they are the biggest crooks in this city.’
‘You’re not the first person to tell me that either.’
‘But I will be the last if you don’t get your ass up and walk out of here. If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand?’
‘I get it.’
‘Show this dipshit out of here.’
Two big Colombians grabbed Dorling under the armpits and hauled him from the chair. As he was being dragged away, he turned his head to see Gutierrez take the package from the shelf.
The next few moments were a bit of a blur. As Dorling was – literally – thrown from the building he was aware of a great rush of air and a moment of intense heat. He hadn’t even figured out where he was geographically before he as flung in the air by the force of the blast.
As he straightened his vision he realised that he was at some old garage in the desert. There was now a large hole in the side of it and, unfortunately, a wrecked Pinto sitting just inside it. His hearing started to come back in as a LOT of Colombians appeared and started to stare at first the building, and then him.
‘Oh shit.’
He got to his feet and leapt over a pile of tyres as the gunfire started to kick up the dust around him. The sun was starting to go down. He sat there for a moment, not sure what to do. Out of nowhere, a red Mercedes slid to a halt next to him. The door flung open and the driver yelled to him ‘get the fuck in’ or something similar.
It was Carmen. He scrambled into the door and she buried the accelerator.
‘What the hell are you doing here Esparza?’
‘Obviously somebody has to look out for you. What the fuck just happened?’
‘Well, I delivered a package to Gutierrez.’
‘Who the fuck from?!’
‘Tasacs.’
She leaned over and slapped him on the back of the head.
‘What did I say? WHAT DID I SAY?’
‘Yeah yeah alright, I get it.’
‘No, you don’t. You just assassinated the biggest drug dealer in Las Vegas on behalf of the biggest weapons dealer.’
‘Shit.’
‘That doesn’t even begin to cover it. Look behind you.’
As the Mercedes lurched from the dirt road on to the highway, four vehicles followed. They were all Escalades or similar, and the sound of gunfire hitting the paintwork of the Mercedes was frequent. Carmen looked over at Dorling.
‘If we don’t make it out of this alive, I’m going to kill you.’
‘I fully expect you to fulfil that promise!’
Carmen handed Dorling a pistol and instructed him to shoot back, and he reacted with surprise.
‘Really?’
‘It doesn’t matter if you hit anything, just do something to put them off!’
Dorling was about to lean out of the window, but before he got the chance he felled a bang and a judder.
‘Shit, they’ve got one of the tyres!’
And then another one. Carmen tried her best to control the Mercedes but she was losing the battle, and she finally lost it as they came up on an abandoned rest stop. The car spun from the road, smashed through a wire fence and slammed, driver side first, into the side of the abandoned building.
It was several moments before Dorling was able to figure out what happened. Carmen was unconscious and slumped over the wheel. His seatbelt was jammed. He ducked as some bullets shattered the window next to him. Carmen stirred. He peeked out and saw 10 or so men step out of the SUVs and surround them, high powered rifles ready to finish the job. He looked at Carmen.
‘I’m sorry.’
The bullet storm began and ended in the space of 20 seconds. The noises stopped and Dorling felt his body for wounds. He looked at Carmen, her eyes barely open. Not a scratch. He slowly looked out of the car and saw the inexplicable. All of Gutierrez’s guys were down.
Every. Single. One.
Two figures emerged from behind one of the vehicles and walked slowly through the settling dust towards the Mercedes. They were wearing tactical gear but pulled the masks down from their noses and mouths as they got near. One man, one woman. Dorling frowned
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
The man raised an eyebrow and the woman smiled.
‘Marshall Akers and Simone fucking Vancek.’
The woman nodded.
‘One and the same old buddy.’
Akers grinned.
‘Didn’t expect to see us did you?’
‘No, I really bloody didn’t. What are you doing here?’
Vancek slung her rifle over her back.
‘We were hired. Well, we saw the job was going and we took it.’
‘Who hired you?’
‘A Miss April Jones.’
Akers opened the passenger door and pulled Dorling from the car. He pressed a business card into his hand.
LOCKDOWN SECURITY.
Dorling looked at them both.
‘Cable.’
<><><><><><><><>
‘Once again it’s been a hell of a couple of weeks, and to top it off I have to go to France to face the former former World Heavyweight champion.
It must be hard to watch your name drop so far down the former list of champions in the space of 5 minutes, Slater. And trust me, I get it that you’re going to be pissed off, and I’m sure you’re not going to be happy about facing me off the back of it, but such is life.
Normally I’d be looking forward to going back to mainland Europe, especially France. It’s only a short hop over the channel to my homeland after all, but I’m not sure I’m going to get to visit this time. There’s a lot of shit happening back in Vegas that probably requires my attention, although I’m looking forward to seeing a certain Mr Cable in France.
But that’s by the by. I have to face Slater.
You know, I have a bit of respect for somebody that includes ‘THE’ as part of their name, and there was a time when I did something similar but let’s be honest – you have to grow out of that at some point. Maybe losing the belt will give you the introspection required. If not, maybe losing to me will.
Make no mistake, I’ m aiming to make you feel a bit more miserable about what happened last time out and I’ll happily do it. I don’t really have any personal beef with you, but I have professional beef with anybody over the other side of the ring and that’s more than good enough a motivation to do what has to be done.
There’s a different level of fight in me to what you’ve experienced before. I don’t lie down for anybody, least of all you. The brutality within me is shined up with a veneer of finesse and, to be completely honest, you have very little chance of anticipating what I’m going to do next because I rarely have fuck all idea myself.
Everything in my life is a hectic fireball right now, but when I get in that ring I can switch it all off and slow time down. I’ve got as long as it takes to take you apart if that’s what I need to do. Let’s be honest, that shit show of a private life isn’t going anywhere and will still be there when I’m done with you, no matter how long it takes.
Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Slater. I want a good fight, and if you assume that you need to bring anything less than 100% to this match, I’ll be more than happy to remind you that you’re not the champ anymore, in the most satisfying of ways.'
Dorling smirked as he looked across the table at Esparza. Her baseball cap was pulled down low and she had tied her hair in a ponytail
‘You’re really looking incognito there.’
‘This really is no laughing matter, Dorling. You realise that you just waltzed into the hideout of one of the most surveilled individuals in the US and then shot off to China without a word to anyone? You’re all over several different RADARs now.’
‘So you’re wearing a baseball cap because?’
‘Because it would look less than acceptable to my employers – the FBI, remember them? – to be seen meeting somebody like you off the books.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘So what did you and Tasacs discuss? Why didn’t he hurt you? I assume that he wasn’t the one who tried to kill you? If he was you gave him an easy second shot and he didn’t take it.’
‘Well, he says he wasn’t. But then again, if he knows that you guys and god knows whoever else are watching him, he wouldn’t let me be seen entering his premises, never to be seen again alive.’
‘I suppose. What did he say then?’
‘He said that me helping put Santoro in jail has had very little effect on his business, and that if anything he’ll probably do pretty well out of it.’
‘So you think he’s looking to expand his business into areas left vacant by Santoro’s disappearance?’
‘I don’t know, that’s something for you guys to look into. I don’t care what he does as long as he doesn’t try to kill me, again or not.’
‘Anything else?’
‘He said that he thought Gutierrez is a more likely villain here. He has lost a big customer and a big supply chain with Santoro hitting the slammer. He said I should go see him.’
‘And that’s all he said?’
Dorling lied. He had to. He wasn’t going to tell Carmen about the potential delivery to Gutierrez no matter how many questions she asked.
‘Yep, nothing else.’
‘And then he just let you go?’
‘Yeah, even referred to me as ‘friend.’ Don’t worry, I know gangsters kill their friends but he was really trying to sell the fact that he didn’t try to kill me.’
‘Which makes you think that maybe he did?’
‘Won’t know until I speak to all of the suspects.’
‘There’s no way that you can do that. Gutierrez is a psychopath – I don’t want you going anywhere near him.’
‘Aw, that’s cute. You’re really worried about me huh? I always do what I told, you know that.’
‘Dorling, I’m serious. This guy won’t hesitate to kill you, even if he hasn’t tried to already. Think about your friends. Think about Katy and April. Don’t be reckless.’
Ah yes, Katy. Dorling had been making daily visits to see her every time he was in Vegas. She had shown few signs of improvement, though the staff at the hospital had been very supportive and optimistic about her eventual recovery. He was sceptical about how much of their optimism was rooted in medical science, however, as every time he was in the hospital he felt little more than depression and despair. He wished with all of his heart that there was something he could do but wasn’t sure his abilities stretched beyond attempting to make sure he wasn’t killed. Cable’s offer still loomed in the background, but Dorling was equally as sceptical of an offer of the ‘best doctors’ considering the ones in Vegas seemed pretty bloody competent and, besides keeping her alive, they seemed completely lost with regards to any kind of curative measures.
‘I am thinking about Katy and April, I rarely think about anything else. I can’t protect them if I’m dead, and I stand less chance of staying alive if those that are out to kill me can continue with their plans.’
‘Dorling. Be careful.’
Shake shack parking lot, Las Vegas. 31st May, 2030HRS.
Having received the not-so-subtle text message indicating that he should be in the parking lot (in his hastily purchased and not very reliable Ford Pinto – that’s what happens when assassins destroy your ride), Dorling arrived 5 minutes early and was expecting to be met by some Eastern European henchmen with a cache of weapons for him to take to Gutierrez. However, he was taken aback when Viktor Tasacs himself knocked on the passenger window and took a seat beside him in the car.
‘This car is a piece of shit.’
‘Somebody exploded my Jeep, you probably heard about it.’
‘Now, now Mr Dorling. I have already told you that I had nothing to do with that.’
‘And I already told you that I don’t really believe you on that matter.’
‘That is your choice, my conscience is clear.’
‘I find that very hard to believe.’
‘You can believe what you want to, I came here because you agreed to do a job for me and do a job you must.’
‘I want it placed on record that I agreed under duress.’
‘The record does not care about that. Now shut up and listen.’
Dorling looked intently at Tasacs. He made himself remember how dangerous the man facing him could be.’
‘Good, you are silent. You must take this package to Teofilo Gutierrez and he must know that it is from me – he will be expecting it.’
Dorling looked down into the passenger foot well. A package around about the size you’d need to fit a magic 8 ball in was at Tasacs’ feet.
‘You will not open the package, you will not examine the package. You will hand the package to Teofilo Gutierrez and he will open it, you will not open it for him. Do you understand?’
‘This seems like a straightforward plan, but I seem to remember a lot of people telling me how unpredictable our friend Teo can be – what if he wants to change the plan?’
‘Then it is up to you to keep things on track.’
‘Right, I’ll use my powers of persuasion to tell a crazy Colombian drug lord what to do in his own premises.’
‘That is your job.’
‘And where will I find Mr Gutierrez?’
‘You will not. I have made it clear that you are looking to meet with him, I am confident that he will find you.’
‘Any idea when? You realise I’m wrestling in France in less than 2 weeks?’
‘Oh it will not be long, I have made it clear that you carry for me something that he will be very interested in.’
‘Made it clear to who, exactly?’
‘The mythical criminal underground of course. You ask too many questions. Mr Dorling, trust me.’
‘I don’t want to offend you Viktor but you know that’s not going to happen.’
‘Perhaps you are not so stupid after all. Good luck Mr Dorling.’
And with that, Tasacs got out of the car and went on his way. Dorling looked at the package.
‘Fuck.’
Somewhere in Vegas, some time on 2nd June.
Dorling didn’t expect his meeting with Gutierrez to go smoothly. He didn’t expect it to be an enjoyable experience. He also didn’t think that it would be a polite ‘hello, how are you’ kind of deal and, well, he was right on all counts.
Gutierrez and his gang are known for being wealthy and, despite his reputation for being a complete psychopath, they are pretty organised. They were obviously aware that Dorling would be a hard man to meet without somebody wanting to watch, and they had taken extreme steps to prevent that.
It was with resigned surprise, if that is even a thing, that Dorling observed four people loading his Pinto into the back of a panel truck in the underground parking lot at his gym. Clever, he thought – this would mean that anybody tailing him wouldn’t think he’d left. He smiled awkwardly as he approached and was about to talk when a hood was thrust over his head and he was bundled into the back of the van alongside his car.
He tried to get some conversation from his captors but, of course, they were tight-lipped, so he leaned back on the side of the truck and tried to relax as it bumped along undetermined roads for an undetermined amount of time. He might have even fallen asleep. He was expecting a beating at some point so he decided to relax into it.
When he was shaken awake he was gruffly handled through a few doorways and dumped on to a chair. The hood was pulled from his head and, after his eyes adjusted to the sudden inrush of light, he saw that he was sitting in what looked like a stock room. Where exactly, he had no idea. He was between two rows of metal shelving, various car parts upon them. A quick turn of his head revealed that there were several more rows both to the left and right.
In front of him, sitting on a chair of his own and smoking what was clearly a ‘marijuana cigarette’ was Teofilo Gutierrez. He as a fairly skinny man, with an unkempt mousy brown goatee on his skinny, tattooed face. He was shirtless, showing off the tattoos that covered most of his torso. In his lap was the package, which he’d obviously liberated from the trunk of the Pinto. He was fiddling with it but put it on the shelving unit next to him when he realised Dorling was looking at him.
‘You know what is in there?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You didn’t take a peek?’
‘Tasacs told me not to.’
‘And that’s who you are? A little lapdog for the Hungarian pig? I expected more of you.’
‘Well, sorry to disappoint.’
Gutierrez leapt from his seat and hit Dorling with a solid right hook.
‘I don’t want none of your shit. You shut the fuck up unless I ask you a damned question.’
Dorling raised an eyebrow and spat the blood from his mouth on to the floor.
‘I know your deal. You think I tried to kill you and you’ve come here to get your revenge or beg me to stop or some shit like that. I don’t care about your reasons, I don’t want you here. You come with attention. Why do you think somebody like me would give a shit about some loser like you?’
‘I put your buddy Santoro in jail. I ended his organisation.’
‘My buddy? MY BUDDY? Do you know something about the fucking asshole Santoro that I didn’t my man? Because that piece of shit was a low-balling, money grabbing, slimy little Italian whore and I’m glad he’s gone. I didn’t like him. I didn’t need him. I tolerated him. I tolerated him paying low for my merchandise because he was one of the few cockroaches around here that was too big for me to step on. But you took care of that for me cabron. You think I would kill you for that?’
‘You’re the second person who has said something similar.’
‘You gotta learn, gangsters are never friends.’
‘So you don’t think that Tasacs tried to kill me?’
‘I don’t give a fuck. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s like me, he likes to kill.’
Well that made Dorling feel a little uneasy.
‘If I were you I’d look at the cops hombre – they are the biggest crooks in this city.’
‘You’re not the first person to tell me that either.’
‘But I will be the last if you don’t get your ass up and walk out of here. If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand?’
‘I get it.’
‘Show this dipshit out of here.’
Two big Colombians grabbed Dorling under the armpits and hauled him from the chair. As he was being dragged away, he turned his head to see Gutierrez take the package from the shelf.
The next few moments were a bit of a blur. As Dorling was – literally – thrown from the building he was aware of a great rush of air and a moment of intense heat. He hadn’t even figured out where he was geographically before he as flung in the air by the force of the blast.
As he straightened his vision he realised that he was at some old garage in the desert. There was now a large hole in the side of it and, unfortunately, a wrecked Pinto sitting just inside it. His hearing started to come back in as a LOT of Colombians appeared and started to stare at first the building, and then him.
‘Oh shit.’
He got to his feet and leapt over a pile of tyres as the gunfire started to kick up the dust around him. The sun was starting to go down. He sat there for a moment, not sure what to do. Out of nowhere, a red Mercedes slid to a halt next to him. The door flung open and the driver yelled to him ‘get the fuck in’ or something similar.
It was Carmen. He scrambled into the door and she buried the accelerator.
‘What the hell are you doing here Esparza?’
‘Obviously somebody has to look out for you. What the fuck just happened?’
‘Well, I delivered a package to Gutierrez.’
‘Who the fuck from?!’
‘Tasacs.’
She leaned over and slapped him on the back of the head.
‘What did I say? WHAT DID I SAY?’
‘Yeah yeah alright, I get it.’
‘No, you don’t. You just assassinated the biggest drug dealer in Las Vegas on behalf of the biggest weapons dealer.’
‘Shit.’
‘That doesn’t even begin to cover it. Look behind you.’
As the Mercedes lurched from the dirt road on to the highway, four vehicles followed. They were all Escalades or similar, and the sound of gunfire hitting the paintwork of the Mercedes was frequent. Carmen looked over at Dorling.
‘If we don’t make it out of this alive, I’m going to kill you.’
‘I fully expect you to fulfil that promise!’
Carmen handed Dorling a pistol and instructed him to shoot back, and he reacted with surprise.
‘Really?’
‘It doesn’t matter if you hit anything, just do something to put them off!’
Dorling was about to lean out of the window, but before he got the chance he felled a bang and a judder.
‘Shit, they’ve got one of the tyres!’
And then another one. Carmen tried her best to control the Mercedes but she was losing the battle, and she finally lost it as they came up on an abandoned rest stop. The car spun from the road, smashed through a wire fence and slammed, driver side first, into the side of the abandoned building.
It was several moments before Dorling was able to figure out what happened. Carmen was unconscious and slumped over the wheel. His seatbelt was jammed. He ducked as some bullets shattered the window next to him. Carmen stirred. He peeked out and saw 10 or so men step out of the SUVs and surround them, high powered rifles ready to finish the job. He looked at Carmen.
‘I’m sorry.’
The bullet storm began and ended in the space of 20 seconds. The noises stopped and Dorling felt his body for wounds. He looked at Carmen, her eyes barely open. Not a scratch. He slowly looked out of the car and saw the inexplicable. All of Gutierrez’s guys were down.
Every. Single. One.
Two figures emerged from behind one of the vehicles and walked slowly through the settling dust towards the Mercedes. They were wearing tactical gear but pulled the masks down from their noses and mouths as they got near. One man, one woman. Dorling frowned
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
The man raised an eyebrow and the woman smiled.
‘Marshall Akers and Simone fucking Vancek.’
The woman nodded.
‘One and the same old buddy.’
Akers grinned.
‘Didn’t expect to see us did you?’
‘No, I really bloody didn’t. What are you doing here?’
Vancek slung her rifle over her back.
‘We were hired. Well, we saw the job was going and we took it.’
‘Who hired you?’
‘A Miss April Jones.’
Akers opened the passenger door and pulled Dorling from the car. He pressed a business card into his hand.
LOCKDOWN SECURITY.
Dorling looked at them both.
‘Cable.’
<><><><><><><><>
‘Once again it’s been a hell of a couple of weeks, and to top it off I have to go to France to face the former former World Heavyweight champion.
It must be hard to watch your name drop so far down the former list of champions in the space of 5 minutes, Slater. And trust me, I get it that you’re going to be pissed off, and I’m sure you’re not going to be happy about facing me off the back of it, but such is life.
Normally I’d be looking forward to going back to mainland Europe, especially France. It’s only a short hop over the channel to my homeland after all, but I’m not sure I’m going to get to visit this time. There’s a lot of shit happening back in Vegas that probably requires my attention, although I’m looking forward to seeing a certain Mr Cable in France.
But that’s by the by. I have to face Slater.
You know, I have a bit of respect for somebody that includes ‘THE’ as part of their name, and there was a time when I did something similar but let’s be honest – you have to grow out of that at some point. Maybe losing the belt will give you the introspection required. If not, maybe losing to me will.
Make no mistake, I’ m aiming to make you feel a bit more miserable about what happened last time out and I’ll happily do it. I don’t really have any personal beef with you, but I have professional beef with anybody over the other side of the ring and that’s more than good enough a motivation to do what has to be done.
There’s a different level of fight in me to what you’ve experienced before. I don’t lie down for anybody, least of all you. The brutality within me is shined up with a veneer of finesse and, to be completely honest, you have very little chance of anticipating what I’m going to do next because I rarely have fuck all idea myself.
Everything in my life is a hectic fireball right now, but when I get in that ring I can switch it all off and slow time down. I’ve got as long as it takes to take you apart if that’s what I need to do. Let’s be honest, that shit show of a private life isn’t going anywhere and will still be there when I’m done with you, no matter how long it takes.
Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Slater. I want a good fight, and if you assume that you need to bring anything less than 100% to this match, I’ll be more than happy to remind you that you’re not the champ anymore, in the most satisfying of ways.'