A Quick Job, Chapter 2

We get back home and carry the crate inside - and inspect the MG-12. It's one hell of a beauty; clean and oiled; the fuel cell for the barrel spinning motor is filled up, and the starter battery fully charged. Yoko can carry the gun and all the ammo without any effort... I should get a friggin' cyborg body for myself too. If I can save that half a million quid, and Yoko can contact the right folks, that's it. One day, one friggin' day.

Then we just go to sleep: tomorrow it's going to be hard work. I hold her hand while we fall asleep. So fucking sue me. The alarm clock rings at 06:00, and I wake up ready to kick ass. An energetic breakfast, a visit to the loo, then I'm ready to don my semi-armored combat suite, more than enough to stop teeth and claws of the bloody zombies. It's not like that crap in the B-movies that being bitten by a zombie turns you into another friggin' one, but zombies carry a lot of godawful diseases. Yoko does not have these problems, so she dons a skin-tight fatigue. Very cyberpunk, and clad in that outfit she almost gives me a boner. And she straps her katana at her waist: a scary black blade with a core of titanium alloy covered in nanostructured silicon carbide, she told me. Whatever it is, it can cut right through fucking steel.

I may be a hitman, but I don't like living in filth: I've got a nice detached house in the eastern outskirts of the city: No punks bothering me and crap like that. Quickly, I and Yoko load our stuff into the replica Land Cruiser, and this time she drives. The weather is even more miserable, if fucking possible: a steady wind is blowing specks of heavy, damp sleet against our windscreen, while dark clouds race low overhead.
"How many suckers do we have to dispatch?" I ask.
"They couldn't tell exactly; between twenty and thirty"
"It's not that bad then"
The research facility is a few kilometrs inland - at least they got this straight. We're following a secondary road climbing up the hills, and from here I can see the sea: like a goddamn wrinkled sheet of lead.
"Winter up here is absolute crap" I state.
"So let's go somewhere nicer. What keeps us here?"
Yeah, what the fuck? I can't really tell.
I look into Yoko's beautiful slanted eyes and what I see is... well, you know, she isn't a stupid chick talking about feelings and crap like that all the time. But neither a ice-cold, almost scary character like my old time business partner Sara. What I see in Yoko's eyes is a deep, sincere affection. I stroke lightly her cheek with my hand, and that's all I can do to answer her. She smiles, and speeds up a bit.

We get at the lab a few minutes before eight, and avery nervous, uneasy guy wearing a smart winter coat lets us through a solid gate and in front of sort of guard post near the high fence. The rest of the compound is less than one hundred meter away, surrounded by security guards wielding riot control rifles. Well, it's up to us dogs of war to clean up the mess another time. Now and the fucking centuries of motherfucking centuries, we do the dirty work and nobody even says "Thanks". Amen. The guy in the coat introduces himself as Professor Murphy - he is the one who talked to Yoko yesterday. And boy, I've seen people in front of the firing squad less nervous than him.

He leads us into the guard post and introduces the others, two of them sitting around a table in front of coffee cups: Mr Bondi, a fat-ass chap in the security uniform, and a totally fucking clueless look on his face. Dr Bahir, a young bloke with long hair and a scraggy beard, wearing faded jeans and with an intent look in his eyes. And in the shadows at the back of the room, an unnamed man with broad shoulders and a straight spine, black suit, crew cut hair and a shaved face as expressive as a block of granite. I can tell he's military special projects from a mile away. Fucking great, this is really the company of the special occasions. Anyway, I and Yoko have been in far tighter spots than this.
"Can we see the money first?"
"Sure... here..." Murphy takes a bag from a cupboard, and with almost shaking hands shows us the wads of banknotes. We're traditionalists and work with cash as much as possible.
I take five thousand Sovereign, and put them in my pocket.
"Now, let's debrief this goddamn mission."
Bahir pulls out a big sheet of paper, and eagerly unfolds it on the table.
Bondi begins:
"My men are securing the perimeter, and no zombie can get out", and he points vaguely at the area around the central compound. There isn't a marker, a sign on the blueprint indicating where the perimeter is, the access and exit routes, the number and position of men. Fucking amateur.
"But we did not try to go inside... anyway this blueprint is very detailed; it should be really helpful"
I am close to snap, really. This Bondi is even more an asshole than I suspected. I shot a glance to Yoko, and she shakes her head.
"This is helpful my ass. We need to know a lot more before we fucking go in!" I almost yell.
Bondi looks at me with a panicked, pitiful expression. Murphy turns white, dispaired. The shady chap does not move a muscle... and finally Bahir speaks out, looking at me with an unwavering gaze:
"I think I can help"
"Go on then" I encourage him.
He takes another sheet out of a bag on the floor, and unfolds it covering the previous one. It's the same blueprint, but with red and green marks and annotations. Maybe this guy understands something about the job.