Cavalry Track Fifty-Six had stood since the earliest days of New Jericho, and had been decommissioned from active use before I ever put a foot in a stirrup. The building looked at least as old as New Jericho itself, paint peeled from every surface. The metal frame sat rusting underneath a rotten wooden exterior. The tracks around the building had gone to seed and were nearly lost under generations of wild grasses and unrelenting invasions by wind borne weeds. But the whole site didn't match the expected state of a decomissioned and abandoned military structure. Somebody had replaced all of the doors. Paint had been scraped off the new doors to give the impression of age, but the paint had not faded and the wood underneath had not rotted. Somebody had also replaced the hinges with new steel hinges, and the same person had likely been the one to add new locks to all the door and bars to the ground floor windows. The walk in front of the main gates showed recent use however. The grass lay bent and trodd down, ruts and exposed earth spoke of fairly recent foot traffic. We weren't close enough for me to be certain, but the earth seemed from a distance to wear the tracks of many different sets of feet. These were the tracks of a crowd.
The whole tableau screamed of something not right, something hidden or concealed. And then, of course, there were the thugs patrolling with machetes. That certainly looked out of place on government property.
harbigner nodded to me, "Time for you to put that rifle to good use."
I flipped the Mosin-Hayha from it's case and brought it up to my shoulder, "I want to be clear here," I said as I took aim on the woman with the shaved head carrying the machete, "You're telling me to shoot somebody preemptively, not in defense, from concealment and with now military or police authority to back us up if we're caught. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Harbinger said, "People are dying here, on the whim of the powerful to entertain other bored rich people. As I see it, our duty as honorable people is fairly clear. We must do what is right, not necessarily what is just and not what will keep us safe. Any disagreement?"
"That's why they kicked my out of the military. I will always do what is right, not what is ordered."
"Then you've found where you belong, and we're probably about to die. Now, be a dear and cripple those guards please."
I squeezed the trigger and the woman's lead knee exploded, she fell to the ground and dropped the machete. I looked up from the scope and spotted the nearest two thugs. A big black man and a small caucasian man with a rat like nose had heard the gun shot and were looked at their fallen companion. I worked the bolt action, and sighted the closer man first. I fired, taking out another knee. I opened the action and ejected the spent round, closed the action and sighted the smaller remaining thug. I fired a third shot and took a third knee as a trophy.
"Time to move," I said, snapping the safety on the rifle and crouching low as I hustled for a different collection of discarded barrels.
Harbinger caught up and dropped into a crouch beside me, "Why are we moving?" He asked.
I peeked out at the three injured thugs and watched as several more thugs arrived on the scene. The woman who had shot me first pointed back towards our previous position.
"So they can't pin us down." I said and hustled further away from our original position. The next set of cover I settled behind was a moldering pile of discarding hay, hardly what I would consider good cover. But I had taken us in a half circle arc around the building, and people were looking for us in entirely the wrong direction.
I flipped the safety off, and then sighted the thugs scouting our old position. Four men and three woman all carrying machetes were milling around the old steel drums we had started behind. I chose my target and collected my kneecap. Ejecting the spent round, I acquired a new target and shot out another thug's knee. The thugs panicked, dropping to the ground or seeking cover behind the drums.
Harbinger watched through a small spotting scope, "Why knees?"
"None of them are carrying pistols," I said, "You can't close the distance necessary to use a machete if you can't walk."
"Sound logic," Harbinger said and then clapped me on the shoulder, "Dahlia, bring me their kneecaps!"
"Nope," I said, "We need to move while they're still cowering, before they have a chance to spot us."
I flicked the safety on and then ran again, continuing to circle clockwise around the building. I knew that the predictable pattern presented a risk. But I needed to move in a way that wouldn't keep in the same line of sight from the entrance. I was gambling. That was the nature of war. I ducked behind a disused chain link fence with white plastic slats. The cover provided by the fence was purely visual and poor by even that metric.
"Lay on you belly," I ordered Harbinger, directing him by hand behind the fence. I dropped flat so that I could look past the fence, while keeping most of me behind visual cover. I flipped the safety and fired two rounds, striking two more thugs.
"And move!" I commanded, safety on, already running in a low crouch for the best cover thus far, a set of small sheck built from corrugated steel and heavy black plastic, surrounded by abandoned steel drums and an assortment for horse and cavalry equipment. I dropped behind the cover, and slipped down to my belly. I looked through my scope to assess the situation as Harbinger dropped down beside me.
I paused, watching the group of injured and uninjured, trying to gauge their condition and reactive ability. Then my soldier senses began to tingle.
"Do you smell that?" I asked sniffing the air. I rose to a crouch, and then stood up.
"No sense of smell remember?" He said, turning his head towards me.
"Cloves and tobacco, somebody smoking Jakarta Blacks."
"We know several people who smoke that brand," Harbinger said, standing up beside me.
"There's something else," I added, "It's masked by the cloves, but that smell of a human body that has forgotten to bathe.
Harbinger opened his mouth when a blackjack swung out from the shadows and struck Harbinger on his blindside. Harbinger collapsed to the ground in a limp heap like a burlap sack filled with bones. The familiar figure of Buster Brand stepped into view. Instead of his previous Gemsbok cigarette, a Jakarta Black hung from his lips. He grinned and three more figures stepped from the shadows. I recognized the figures of Jaromir Hus and his boss Gunter Albrecht, the third man was a big man of Indian descent dressed much the same as Hus.
I raised my rifle, and Hus lifted and tossed one of the steel drums into me, sending my sprawling to the ground and the rifle skittering out of reach across across the hard packed dirt.
"I thought you were going to ground?" I said to Brand, drawing out my sabre in a cut to drive the men back standing up and stepping backward to gain measure on the men, blade pointed forward in a medium guard, "Not taking the fall for this, and other tactics to save your skin."
Brand smiled and took a drag from his cigarette, "Honesty is the best policy in all things."
"And because you decided not to hide, I have to fight," I said.
Albrecht spoke, "I've heard that you didn't fight Miss Crowe. Word has reached my ears that killing is your art, and yet I've yet to find a single dead body of which you are to blame."
"Are you volunteering?" I asked.
"If you think you can manage the task, certainly."
He drew a Highland style broadsword and advanced flanked by Hus with his Bowie Knife and the Indian man with a pair of billy clubs. Albrecht threw a cut which I parried, but that left me vulnerable to his men. Hus moved to cut as my off hand while the gentleman with the clubs swung in from the outside of my sword arm. I withdrew away from Albrecht and Hus, given that their weapons would very likely kill me if they hit. But my retreat forced me to veer into range of the third man's clubs, and he took advantage of that sacrifice on my part and struck at me landing three blows before I was far enough out of Albrecht's measure to drive my pommel into the face of the Indian gentleman, just above the bridge of the nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils and he staggered back. He wasn't a threat compared to the other two. His blows had hurt, but I'd taken them on the arm and shoulder, and nothing felt broken. He could conceivably give me a concussion, but the real danger lay in him distracting me and leaving my open to a fatal cut or thrust from the other two. And so, as he staggered back I re-positioned and thrust the sabre straight into his midsection and quickly withdrew backing away from the other two men and behind the falling body of the man I had just stabbed. He was probably dead. I couldn't spare a glance to be sure, and moved my sword arm and maintained a medium guard. The shoulder had began to ache, the clubs may have hit something important after all.
"You can just give up, you know." Hus called to me.
I calculated to myself. Hus' comment made it seem like they wanted me alive, but didn't want me to know it. Maybe I could push that. Maybe they'd hold back if I pressed. Hus seemed the most hesitant from his body language. His blade was also the shortest, only really dangerous to me if I got engaged with Albrecht's heavier broadsword. I thrust in at Hus as suddenly as I could, aimed from his knife hand, it being the closest target. Hus howled as I ran the blade through his hand and he dropped the knife. I moved to regain a useful defensive guard against Albrecht, but discovered that I hadn't surprised him. He brought a heavy cut down which I was out of position to parry well. I managed to block it, but my position was weak and my block collapsed. I instinctively moved to avoid being cut, but Hus wasn't out of the fight. The man tackled me to the ground, which probably saved my life. My sabre flew from my hand and Hus got clubbed on the forehead by basket hilt of Albrecht's sword. And I found myself on the floor with three hundred pounds of angry gang member kneeling on me. He threw a series of hammering blows with his off hand, of which I managed to block a few before taking a blow to the nose that probably broke it. The blow to my nose cause my eyes to water, preventing me from accurately blocking and the next blow hit my right eye, followed quickly be a wild blow that struck my temple and left me dazed.
Brand moved in towards me, evidently planning to look good for his boss. He scooped up Hus' fallen Bowie knife as he passed the fallen thug. I extended my arm towards him and flipped my wrist to activate the wrist holster. The Pepperbox extended into my wobbling hand and I squeezed the trigger as fluidly as I could manage. I had aimed for his knife hand, instead I hit his knee- which exploded in a cherry blossom of blood. Brand stumbled to the ground and dropped the knife, which skittered towards me. I reached for it, only to get struck from behind by the pommel of Albrecht's broadsword again. I blacked out for an instant, and came to pinned hard with Hus having applied a front forearm choke to my neck. I drew my Ehrenfeld from its holster, and was in the process of flicking the safety off when Hus noticed.
"Gun," He called to Albrecht, who quickly kicked the pistol from my hands with the aid of his heavy boots.
"I can crush your windpipe before you can do anything to me," Hus said applying more force to make his point, "Don't make me do it. You lost. It took all of us, but we thrashed you."
I felt my eye's closing again and fought to remain conscious.
"Enough," An emotionless voice said, "She is down. She is defeated. Take them into custody."
I forced my eyes open enough to see Blackwater standing above me.
"I assume that none of the people you spoke with were brave enough to name me as the Hummingbird. So I assume that this may be something of a surprise. Not unlike pulling back a curtain to reveal the little man hidden in the mechanical chess player."
"I knew it was you," I answered, "Even when I saw Brand with the Jakarta, I still knew it was you."
"Mr. Brand can't afford such cigarettes," Blackwater answered, "That was his reward for providing me with useful information regarding your investigation. Information that you should have already provided to me, I might add."
"I'm pretty sure Harbinger suspected you as well."
"The man is clever, but this is checkmate. And unlike in chess, I do insist on watching my executions."
"Spoken like a true sadist." I answered as Hus and Albrecht hauled me to my feet. I staggered a little as they did, and said to Hus, "I think you paid me back that concussion I gave you earlier."
He looked upset by that, which surprised me. Blackwater shook his head.
"No sadism, this is still chess. Everything is part of the great game, only now you will be a demonstration of my power, a method of enforcing obedience among my new associates, and proving my control over my enterprises to my clientele. I am making an example out of you. you wanted to get to the bottom of my shadow business endeavors. Well now you have. Not only will you get to see the Russian Duel, you'll get to participate. And you'll be playing against each other."
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