Sam put the last of the cases in the lift and sent it down to his waiting men.
There was something bothering him.
He ran back to his apartment and threw some weapons in a bag for his team, taking a quick glance as the Elevator as it made its long descent.
“Only one can ride The Elevator.”
On the desk sat an open oak box. Inside was a revolver. Sam paused. Could he really go through with it?
Could he –
It was something with the elevator that bothered him. What the fuck was it?
He grabbed the revolver, slipped it into the back of his trousers and headed down.
***
Once in the car, he opened the bag of weapons, signaling for silence, one last time, in case the car was bugged.
Allan and Eddie reached in, grabbing pistols, automatics and ammo clips.
Finally Sam coughed. “Right. It’s not everyday that thing comes down. Let’s go see what’s going on.”
***
It seemed that Sam wasn’t the only one wanting to see “what’s going on,” and so the roads to The Elevator were quite busy.
“Look at them. They clearly forget the only thing connected with The Elevator is death.”
Sam shook his head.
It would appear that Sam’s final act of betrayal would be his gift to the people of The Tow. How kindly would they think on him then?
Christ. It was going to be ugly.
***
Eddie swung the car into the final approach. Already a small crowd had gathered, but they were keeping a respectful distance.
“What’s… going on here?” Sam muttered.
The base of the Elevator was surrounded by armed guards. They clearly weren’t going to let anyone on rr, for that matter, off it.
Which was a bad thing. The Elevator was nearly at the bottom and Sam wanted to be on his way.
Christ. The Elevator. It was something about The Elevator.
A thought grew in Sam’s mind.
“Stop the car.”
It was huge.
Eddie looked back. “What?”
The small crowd stopped talking amongst themselves and watched.
Only one can ride The Elevator.
“Stop the fucking car!” Sam yelled.
They screeched to a halt.
“It’s a set up.”
The Elevator stopped. Pinged. A muffled voice said “Ground Floor.”
It grew clearer as the doors opened. “Have a nice day.”
She stood, encased in black. It absorbed the muted sunlight, giving her an edged outline. In the time it took the guards to react, two were dead.
As one, the crowd screamed. You could see the wave of panic spread through them.
The weapon was perfect. Silent, no recoil. She stepped from The Elevator.
The crowd fled.
Sam heard his breath catch. She was beautiful. No movement was wasted. A third guard dropped.
A ballet of death. She spun, avoiding the clumsy attack from a fourth guard – letting the bullets fired rip into his team mate – before firing and taking the attacker out.
Sam stepped from the car, revolver in his hand. He aimed over the door, watching her dance. Counting her steps, waiting for the moment until –
He squeezed the trigger.
The revolver roared. The assassin danced to the left, her body weight committed, pulling her into the path of the incoming bullet. He head snapped backwards and she crumpled to the floor.
Sam stuck his head in the car. “Bring the cases. I’ve been fucked.”
His crew looked at him, clearly confused. “If The Elevator coming down causes all this madness. The guards, the rubber neckers. How the hell did my visitor get here? We need to keep our eyes open.”
***
Sam tried to kick the guns from the figures hands, only to discover they were grafted on. He crouched and checked them out. The seams were flawless, as if she had been born with guns for hands. Jefe’s words echoed in his head – “If that’s how they let us live; how they choose to whittle us down; what place do we have up there?”
None of the guards had survived her attack. Sam approached the elevator. Empty, the doors kept open by the slumped body of a guard.
Eddie arrived with the cases, which Sam slid into place. “We good?”
A car screeched to a halt, doors slammed. Sam stuck his head out and had a look.
It was Jefe.
Sam looked up at Eddie and shook his head.
“No, my friend. We are not. Not good at all.”
