Mark Robson
Dragon Writer
Here it is after I finished messing with it:
‘Just leave it on the table, Jack. The money will be in your bank account by nine tomorrow.’
‘Don’t you even want to see it before I go, Mr. Solaris?’ he replied. ‘That’s very trusting of you considering we’ve never met.’
Neil Solaris looked up from his computer screen. The businessman’s lips twisted into a grin. ‘No need,’ he said glibly. ‘It’s a fake, Jack. Why would I need to look at a fake?’
For a moment, the thief was speechless. The quiet sound of Solaris laughing could barely be heard above the rain drumming on the glass wall of the twelfth floor office. However, the fury of the howling wind and driving rain was but a pale reflection of the rage brewing within his employee’s gut.
‘A fake! You had me rob Don Verrido of a fake?’ he hissed. ‘Why?’
Images flashed through his mind as he pictured entering the Don’s mansion: a single drip of sweat running down his temple as he hacked into the system that electrified Don Verrido’s outer perimeter fence; the surge of panic as his clothing tangled on the fence wire; the fear twisting his belly when he realised the guards were armed with semi-automatic weapons. Then, the chalice was in his hands. Despite the odds he had got it, and all he had to do was to get away. All he had to do. The words mocked him as details of the flight from Don Verrido’s residence sprang into his mind.
‘You there! Halt, or I fire.’
Jack hadn’t stopped to think. He launched into a sprint across the lawn. Bullets ripped through the air around him as he zigzagged in a random pattern, ducking and weaving all the way to his hole in the fence. He dived through, pushing the bundle containing the chalice ahead of him. The cut wire caught his trousers, tearing his skin as he ripped himself free. Scrambling to his feet he was running again, oblivious to the pain.
More gunfire. A bullet grazed his arm. He clamped his free hand over the line of pain and glanced down as he ran. Blood welled between his fingers. Whining projectiles ricocheted from branches and thudded into tree trunks as he made it to the relative safety of the woods. But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the terror had only just begun.
It was not far to Jack’s car, but it was far enough for the guards to get there ahead of him. As soon as the alarm had been raised, groups of armed guards had left the Don’s residence in 4 x 4’s. The Don was clearly not inclined to let intruders get away easily. They had found his car quickly and were waiting for him as he came racing through the trees. Before Jack knew what was happening, bullets were coming at him from all angles. Whether it was luck on his part, or the bad aim of the hunters that saved him being hit again, Jack would never know. Still running hard, he veered away from his car and plunged deeper into the woods.
Rain made the ground treacherous. His feet slipped with every stride, but it was as much of an inconvenience to the hunters as it was to Jack. He skidded and stumbled along at a breakneck pace, his breath ragged as he fought to stay ahead of his pursuers. Then – a moment of sheer terror. He burst through a screen of bushes only to have the ground drop away from under his feet. Jack’s slide into the ravine, smashing against rocks and tree trunks seemed to last forever. All the way to the bottom he used his body to shield the bag containing the chalice, for fear of damaging it. What a farce!
‘Why, Solaris?’ he repeated. ‘Why did you send me to steal the fake?’
Neil Solaris turned for a moment and looked out over the city at the miserable evening weather. ‘Because you’re the best, Jack,’ he replied. ‘Everyone says so. And because I didn’t want Don Verrido to realise he didn’t have the genuine chalice. The Don would never expect me to pay your fee to go after a fake. Naturally he would assume he had the real chalice. To be honest, I didn’t fancy your chances, but you’ve lived up to your reputation, Jack. You really are the best.’
‘So if that’s a fake, then where’s the real one?’
‘It’s not even locked away,’ Solaris laughed. ‘It’s in my drinks cabinet over there.’
‘May I have a look?’
‘Why not? Go ahead.’
Sure enough, there in the cabinet was a silver chalice identical to the one in the bag. He lifted it out reverently and turned to face Solaris.
It took a second for the smug businessman to register the gun.
‘What the hell is going on, Jack?’ Solaris yelled, standing up behind his desk, his face a mask of outrage.
‘Your chalice isn’t the only fake here,’ he replied, his own smile far more chilling than that of Solaris. ‘Jack Ferret died trying to escape with the chalice. I killed him. He fell into a ravine and I put him out of his misery. Don Verrido sent me here to pass on his compliments.’
The rain pounding on the glass wall drowned out the spitting sound of three silenced bullets fired in quick succession. The man walked forward to inspect the body. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he picked up the phone and dialled a number using the muzzle of his pistol.
‘Boss? Yeah, it’s me. It’s done. Hey, and you’ll never guess what …’
‘Just leave it on the table, Jack. The money will be in your bank account by nine tomorrow.’
‘Don’t you even want to see it before I go, Mr. Solaris?’ he replied. ‘That’s very trusting of you considering we’ve never met.’
Neil Solaris looked up from his computer screen. The businessman’s lips twisted into a grin. ‘No need,’ he said glibly. ‘It’s a fake, Jack. Why would I need to look at a fake?’
For a moment, the thief was speechless. The quiet sound of Solaris laughing could barely be heard above the rain drumming on the glass wall of the twelfth floor office. However, the fury of the howling wind and driving rain was but a pale reflection of the rage brewing within his employee’s gut.
‘A fake! You had me rob Don Verrido of a fake?’ he hissed. ‘Why?’
Images flashed through his mind as he pictured entering the Don’s mansion: a single drip of sweat running down his temple as he hacked into the system that electrified Don Verrido’s outer perimeter fence; the surge of panic as his clothing tangled on the fence wire; the fear twisting his belly when he realised the guards were armed with semi-automatic weapons. Then, the chalice was in his hands. Despite the odds he had got it, and all he had to do was to get away. All he had to do. The words mocked him as details of the flight from Don Verrido’s residence sprang into his mind.
‘You there! Halt, or I fire.’
Jack hadn’t stopped to think. He launched into a sprint across the lawn. Bullets ripped through the air around him as he zigzagged in a random pattern, ducking and weaving all the way to his hole in the fence. He dived through, pushing the bundle containing the chalice ahead of him. The cut wire caught his trousers, tearing his skin as he ripped himself free. Scrambling to his feet he was running again, oblivious to the pain.
More gunfire. A bullet grazed his arm. He clamped his free hand over the line of pain and glanced down as he ran. Blood welled between his fingers. Whining projectiles ricocheted from branches and thudded into tree trunks as he made it to the relative safety of the woods. But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the terror had only just begun.
It was not far to Jack’s car, but it was far enough for the guards to get there ahead of him. As soon as the alarm had been raised, groups of armed guards had left the Don’s residence in 4 x 4’s. The Don was clearly not inclined to let intruders get away easily. They had found his car quickly and were waiting for him as he came racing through the trees. Before Jack knew what was happening, bullets were coming at him from all angles. Whether it was luck on his part, or the bad aim of the hunters that saved him being hit again, Jack would never know. Still running hard, he veered away from his car and plunged deeper into the woods.
Rain made the ground treacherous. His feet slipped with every stride, but it was as much of an inconvenience to the hunters as it was to Jack. He skidded and stumbled along at a breakneck pace, his breath ragged as he fought to stay ahead of his pursuers. Then – a moment of sheer terror. He burst through a screen of bushes only to have the ground drop away from under his feet. Jack’s slide into the ravine, smashing against rocks and tree trunks seemed to last forever. All the way to the bottom he used his body to shield the bag containing the chalice, for fear of damaging it. What a farce!
‘Why, Solaris?’ he repeated. ‘Why did you send me to steal the fake?’
Neil Solaris turned for a moment and looked out over the city at the miserable evening weather. ‘Because you’re the best, Jack,’ he replied. ‘Everyone says so. And because I didn’t want Don Verrido to realise he didn’t have the genuine chalice. The Don would never expect me to pay your fee to go after a fake. Naturally he would assume he had the real chalice. To be honest, I didn’t fancy your chances, but you’ve lived up to your reputation, Jack. You really are the best.’
‘So if that’s a fake, then where’s the real one?’
‘It’s not even locked away,’ Solaris laughed. ‘It’s in my drinks cabinet over there.’
‘May I have a look?’
‘Why not? Go ahead.’
Sure enough, there in the cabinet was a silver chalice identical to the one in the bag. He lifted it out reverently and turned to face Solaris.
It took a second for the smug businessman to register the gun.
‘What the hell is going on, Jack?’ Solaris yelled, standing up behind his desk, his face a mask of outrage.
‘Your chalice isn’t the only fake here,’ he replied, his own smile far more chilling than that of Solaris. ‘Jack Ferret died trying to escape with the chalice. I killed him. He fell into a ravine and I put him out of his misery. Don Verrido sent me here to pass on his compliments.’
The rain pounding on the glass wall drowned out the spitting sound of three silenced bullets fired in quick succession. The man walked forward to inspect the body. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he picked up the phone and dialled a number using the muzzle of his pistol.
‘Boss? Yeah, it’s me. It’s done. Hey, and you’ll never guess what …’
D ), or that you've tried to be too clever either.
