In Plain Sight

“I heard it from someone who wishes to remain anonymous.” Alex said. He didn’t even have to lie. Brewer’s face grew angry and he nodded to his bald-headed companion.

“Search him,” he said. The flat-faced goon pulled Alex’s arms in tighter as the big man began patting Alex down.

“What’s this?” he asked, pulling the brass knuckles out of Alex’s pocket. Alex smiled at him as his cigarette touched the flash paper in his left hand.

“Insurance,” he said.

The paper erupted in fire and light, but it didn’t stop. The light exploded into the room, flowing like water until it filled every crack. The second Alex felt the paper burn, he’d shut his eyes tight.

It didn’t help much.

The light from the flash rune burned brighter than staring at the sun, but only for an instant. He hoped the people in the club below would think the light was just one of the overhead magelights burning out.

The hands holding him let go and the three men not expecting the flash started to swear. When Alex opened his eyes, bright dots swam in his vision, but he had no time to worry about that. Bending over, he picked up the brass knuckles where the bald man had dropped them. Slipping them over his right fingers, he turned to find the flat-faced man and Brewer on the floor; the bald man, however, had pulled a snub-nosed .38 from his waistband. Alex strode over to him and unceremoniously punched him in the arm with the brass knuckles. The runes on the metal flared into sudden life and the man howled in pain, the gun falling from his nerveless fingers.

Alex grinned. The rune was one of his own invention. It delivered a shock that felt like a dozen bee stings and left the area numb.

Without stopping to admire his work, Alex pulled back and slugged the bald man in the gut, sending him down on the floor in a gasping heap. He only had another minute or so before they regained their vision, so he had to work fast. Dropping the brass knuckles in his pocket, he took out the piece of chalk and drew the door to his vault on the wall. Next he stuck the second piece of flash paper in his pocket to the wall and lit it, bringing his vault door from chalk to reality. Taking out his key and opening the door, Alex retrieved the bottle of chloroform and rag he’d left on the table just inside and set to work.

The Broker was shaking his head, trying to clear his vision, when Alex tackled him and jammed the chloroformed rag over his face. Once he stopped struggling, Alex stood and dragged him into the vault where he had a pair of handcuffs ready. The Broker thus secured, Alex closed the vault and the door disappeared, leaving only the chalk outline on the wall.

He turned in time to see the flat-faced man pull a pistol from a holster inside his jacket. It was clear he still couldn’t see, but that didn’t seem to stop him. He fired three shots before Alex punched him in the face with the brass knuckles. Flat-face went down hard.

“That was close,” he said, kicking the gun away from the unconscious man.

“Got you,” a snarling voice said, and the bald man drove his fist into Alex’s back.

Alex stumbled forward, losing the brass knuckles but catching himself on one of the couches. Turning just in time, he ducked an uppercut that would have laid him out and landed two hits to the bald man’s solar plexus. Baldy grunted but didn’t give ground, driving his fist into Alex’s jaw so hard he knocked out a tooth.

Alex staggered back, but the bald man still couldn’t see well and his next punch missed. He lunged forward, trying to tackle Alex to the ground where his lack of vision wouldn’t be a hindrance. Bringing up his foot, Alex managed to kick the man away, but both of them went down. As the bald man groped for him, Alex rolled out of his grip, his hand landing on the brass knuckles. He slipped them on and scrambled to his feet, intending to put the big man down for good. When he turned, Alex found that baldy had found a weapon too, the flat-faced man’s pistol.

The bald man brought the pistol up and fired. His vision must have gotten better because the bullet hit Alex in the side. Gasping in barely-controlled pain, Alex stepped forward before the other man could fire again and drove the brass knuckles into his jaw so hard he heard it crack.

Finally the bald man went down like a sack of flour. For his part, Alex just stood there gasping, as fire and pain spread through his torso. Grunting, he pressed his hand against his side and it came away soaked in blood.

“Good thing…” he gasped, “I live with a doctor.”

17 The Connection

“Alex?” Iggy’s voice came over the phone before Alex could speak.

“Yeah,” he said, wheezing like a bellows. “It’s me.”

“Thank God. I’ve been worried.” The relief in the old man’s voice was palpable. Alex imagined he could hear Iggy’s muscles relaxing through the phone. “Everything go as planned?”

Alex started to laugh but the wound in his side flared into agony and he groaned.

“Not exactly,” he said, his voice a whisper. “One of the Broker’s men shot me.”