Killjoy (PROOF COPY -- Not for distribution.) # # Chapter ... · My primary assignment is your partner’s name. Save me and yourself time and pain. Tell me your partner’s name.”

Hindsley / Aeroplane City / 1

PROOF COPY -- Not for distribution

(Chapter ONE)# # Chapter One # #

(PROOF COPY -- Not for distribution.)

Killjoy

LarsH

Draft



Chapter One: Killjoy

Baxter Robertson came to, lying on his side wrestling for his

life; hogtied -- his hands and feet were now bound behind his

body. As if the throbbing from his head wasn't enough Baxter

knew he had been knocked out for some time because a chest

harness made of rope now bound much of his body. It created a

fulcrum he wouldn't want to test nor could be reached with his

hands. Rolling his body side-to-side brought pain but the

importance of freeing himself cast off all thoughts further

injury. He sensed something worse. He wasn't in complete command

of his body. Baxter would soon realize that after being knocked

out he had been injected with a temperamental truth serum meant

to loosen his tongue. As beat up as he was now, there was

absolutely no way of knowing he'd been stuck. His restraints

threw his soul into a desperate panic. After all, losing the

fight meant his life was about to end. An out-of-place

instrument resting on the counter in front of him made it

obvious. To someone in Baxter's line of work, the obscure object

implied finality. It rested far less innocently than the toaster

and French press behind it. It had the form of a misshapen bolt

shot but the tiny barb hidden in the recess of the barrel made

it clear to Baxter the questions he had been refusing to answer

meant he was about to offer up answers with a side of scrambled

brains.

Just yards away outside his home the busy suburban



Just yards away outside his home the busy suburban

neighborhood lives continued, ignorant of the riotous violence

taking place behind the walls of a home just like their own.

Baxter's internal crisis morphed to terror. Once again he

thrashed his body. The result was a reminder that he was already

injured and bruised so badly the only part of his body still in

command was his mind. At any moment Baxter's intruder would

return to where he left him. There was no sound in the house but

the sight of the red jacket slung over the chair beside him

served as a warning. Don't touch that dial kids, we'll return to

your regularly scheduled interrogation in just a moment.

Baxter's mind screamed for a solution. He looked about again,

his eyes popping as he froze himself in silence listening for a

hint of his recent assailant. He could hear nothing. “Comm dial

-- Slinger.” Said Baxter. He waited. He repeated, “Comm dial --

Jacob Slinger.” Then a third and last time -- nothing. It was

no use, his custom alloy reinforced wrist comm was somehow

busted in the fight.

Distant sounds in the home gave way as the spy hunter, Tesher

Soyleme, was returning from his scavenger hunt. He was here in

search of bona fides. Tesher had been surveilling Baxter for

some time but Baxter’s time and Tesher’s patience wore out.

Tesher walked back in the room with a small fingernail-sized

drive instead. Tesher would later learn the file was a full

dummy file loaded with data in a programming language unique

from any other. As for the raw data, it too was useless. It was



from any other. As for the raw data, it too was useless. It was

encrypted, that he expected. No more than a consolation prize.

He held it up between forefinger and thumb with mock

disappointment painted across his ragged jawline. “It's genius

-- using outmoded tech. I'm going to have a hell of a time

finding equipment to pull the data off this, but I will. My

employer insisted I'd find a cache of hardware, but you have

nothing. Fortunately for Baxter, Tesher didn’t find his lab

behind a false wall in the basement.

Tesher continued to monologue. “There’s a large transfer

history on your home network that refers to this file. What

could be on here that you needed to keep it off the comm grids?

You even deleted your log files from local outbound routing

before transferring whatever it is you have on this old memory

disc. Whoever sent them downstream is still a mystery --” He

paused and looked at Baxter. “For now.” Tesher cut to the chase.

“Baxter. I don’t care about what’s on this disc. My primary

assignment is your partner’s name. Save me and yourself time and

pain. Tell me your partner’s name.” Tesher slid the item into a

slot on his jacket. Now less dazed, Baxter’s blank stare

answered Tesher. He wasn’t talking. Tesher returned to

diplomacy. “You're an engineer. Let's speak in the language. Do

you see this?” Tesher waved a small wand-like rod with specs of

lights along its shaft. “I had this custom made. It detects

magnetic particle fields. I think it's the most sensitive gauss

meter in the world.” Baxter snorted in response. “You don’t



meter in the world.” Baxter snorted in response. “You don’t

agree? That’s okay. You don’t have to. You see while I left you

here staring at that killjoy, I made myself to home ...This

brings us back to my concern of your uncooperative position Mr.

Van Dam. Let's start with your real name. We both know it's not

Desmond Van Dam. Think about it. Fighting the Armbatrol over

every question will only make you suffer. My employer directed

me to your home with your real name. Of all things to lie about,

please don’t waste your time. I know your name. Let’s build some

trust, shall we? Just say it.” Tesher raised his eyes to the

counter. “Get this right and I don't immediately shoot that

killjoy through your skull.” Tesher's captive slowly raised his

chin. The absence of communication between them was aggrieved.

As if fighting against an exhale of breath he wanted to draw

back in he let it out, “Baxter -- Baxter Robertson.”

“That’s a good start, Baxter. Good names are hard to come

by. I wanted to become a contractor you know? I was told I

didn't have the disposition for law. So here I am with you. Do

you know the first rule of law contractors?” Baxter rested his

head back peering up at Tesher in resignation. Tesher looked

back at him. There was no derision. “I'll tell you -- Never ask

a question you don't already know the answer to. That is how I

knew you were lying when I first questioned you.”

Baxter wondered how long he was out and what this man could

have found that he was going on with such confidence.

The condescension Tesher’s voice dropped. “I’ve never once



The condescension Tesher’s voice dropped. “I’ve never once

seen a V.I. like this one. You are special.” Then it returned.

“Do you want to know my name?” The spy hunter asked. Baxter's

eyes lit in horror. He did not want to know this man's name.

Tesher could see it in Baxter's eyes. Tesher seemed almost kind

as he continued. “No? Okay. This line of work gets an unfair

rap. You went to school for engineering. Me, I was schooled in

forensics. I’d say we are both trained to think in the same

analytical manner. Do you know what I'm saying, Baxter? What I'm

saying is the fight is over. Let's handle this professionally.

I'm not going to leave here without your partner's name.” Tesher

leaned against the counter of the kitchen. The killjoy rested

near his side. “That is the only remaining tally on my agenda.”

Baxter remained quiet. The spy hunter began piecing together

what was going on. Each man speculated what the other was

thinking.

Baxter was the first to break the silence. “I know how this

will go. I'm trained to face this moment that I never wanted to

come. But I'd like to know one thing.”

Tesher was bemused. He paused his work. “What's that?”

“How did you find me? How do you know anything about me? How

did you know who I am?”

Tesher thought a moment before answering. To tell Baxter the

answer is his employer sent a spy hunter to find out who his

partner is would only spook him. In his mind, he played out the

reasons Baxter would ask this question and how it could harm any



reasons Baxter would ask this question and how it could harm any

future questions. In deciding it was indeed a question that

could build rapport between the two, he answered. “Facial scan

...all I had. That impress you?” He sighed. This lie didn’t

satisfy Baxter, it tipped him off.

Baxter aimed his eyes at Tesher. Searching for humanity, he

found none. The tall brute wasn't the commando Baxter expected.

Brawny, but unassuming. His boxy frame suited his personality.

Tesher's drab skin wasn’t leathery, he was strickly and

urbanite. His light hair didn't have any direction, maybe due to

their fight but it looked intentionally tussled but not spiked.

It seemed an educated demeanor held a monster in check as if

something was waiting to get out and kill. Baxter could tell,

this a man who enjoys taking a life.

“You will kill me.” Stated Baxter. He was solemn.

“Did I say that? Answered Tesher.

“No, you didn’t need to.” Answers Baxter. “But you are a

liar. Your story doesn’t add up. You are given no more than a

scan of my facial features and asked to retrieve a name. You

don’t know what you are looking for.”

Tesher took a few confident steps around Baxter to exhibit

his dominant position. “So, let’s get on with it. Who is Logan?”

Baxter’s face turned to Tesher's. His reaction to turn was no

less a confession than the size of his widened eyes. Logan was a

name he only uttered over a private network. Baxter quickly

realized what this was all about. To his dying breath, he had to



realized what this was all about. To his dying breath, he had to

keep Logan’s real name from leaving his lips. Tesher was in the

dark.

Tesher went to work. “You know I wasted a lot of days in that

van across the street monitoring your calls. Nothing. Then one

day, by complete and utter luck I saw you through your window

talking on your comm. I turn to my equipment and your call

didn't register or exist. How you selectively blocked

radiofrequency is genius! I knew then if I could break that

call, I’d have my name. I scanned over 500 known transmission

protocols and still, your conversation was spaghetti. If I

didn’t know better I’d say you and your caller were on your own

private telecom system. How is that possible? But it must be

because there you were, talking freely. Now if I’m right -- and

I am, I'm betting you built it with proprietary encryption too.

I may as well toss this data card in the trash.” Tesher had it

right. He was getting closer but he had no name.

Baxter felt good to know Tesher was in the dark. He stared

intently at Tesher.

Tesher continued, “It was then I understood why the money for

one name. You're no bum and gun job, Baxter. This isn't a

product I'm after, its corporate warfare way over middle

management.” Tesher twisted his head to his side placing two

fingers on his mouth as he was only now deducing the meaning. He

paused curiously as if to think. “Baxter, you've made me resort

to some less than standard tools. I waited four days for your



to some less than standard tools. I waited four days for your

next call with him. That's a lot of long boring hours waiting

for you to finish fucking your wife and doting on your daughter

over dinner. Kids. Their drama never ends. You know the boy

she's interested in -- he has a girlfriend. You should tell her.

Of course, she is kinda young for boys now isn’t she? And how do

you find time to stay up so late playing video games? Those

conversations! But you weren’t trading any information over a

gaming system either. So I scanned your online conversations for

even the most cryptic communications and still nothing. Then

finally I got you. I watched you answer your comm. Despite only

being able to pick up your audio all I have is a vague

conversation. You two are clandestine. I bet his number is

shielded. coded, untraceable, because it’s as if you two are

using your own floating remote private telecom relays to

transmit your conversations over a great distance. You couldn’t

be more secure if you had your own satellites.” The answer hit

him. “-- or your own satellite signal...” He paused and the

thought hit him. “You do!” He said in revelation. “Don’t you?

How is that even possible? Who has that kind of network access?

Really Baxter, how do you do it? But seriously, you two are the

most sophisticated men I've ever crossed, and I meant that.” And

he did. Tesher’s deduction was deadly close. Baxter and his

partner didn’t have private satellites, and Tesher guessed

right. They borrowed their companies' satellites by secretly

transmitting a private channel for their comms. Despite Tesher’s



transmitting a private channel for their comms. Despite Tesher’s

expert reasoning, he wasn't tipping his hand as much as he was

proud to tell Baxter how he began to trace the radio signal to

his location.

“You are doing a great job here.” Quipped Baxter. “What do you

need me for?”

Tesher shot at him in rage, “Don’t make that mistake Baxter!

This isn’t a joke! I’m telling you I respect you, don’t insult

me.” Baxter’s eyes shrunk. It did seem momentarily he wouldn’t

die. That reality screamed back at him. Baxter just closed his

eyes as if his soul was giving up.

Tesher continued once again. “You two are talking on your

private network. I'm as impressed as I am intent on finding this

man. In the ten years, I've been a professional, no one has ever

come this close to the level of security you two employ. Now

Baxter it's your turn. Fill in the blanks for me.” Tesher set

down his gauss-wand and picked up the killjoy. His eyes poured

over the instrument with admiration. “You see I'm not relying on

the truth serum alone. I rely on the rarity of family love to

draw out what I need to know. Tell me -- or I leave you in a

pool of your own blood.” The threat now leveled.

Baxter said nothing. Instead, the lids of his eyes fell with

the weight of a heavy sigh. There was no fight left. He knew

round two means the killjoy. Baxter intended to protect this man

in even in death but a killjoy takes that freewill away. Its

sole purpose is truth by death. Its reliability is legendary.



sole purpose is truth by death. Its reliability is legendary.

The killjoy would steal Baxter’s best intentions and turn them

on himself. Love was no match for the killjoy. However, some

spilled salt from the previous fight was a contender to the

Armbatrol 88. Lying face down in salt was Baxter’s only stroke

of luck. It would combat the truth serum and neutralize any

effect Tesher planned. Tesher didn’t notice in the least as

Baxter licked up large swaths of salt into his mouth. He’d

continue each time Tesher turned his back to Baxter.

“No, it's okay really.” Said Tesher as he began to work

around Baxter. “You'll talk anyway. I know you will.”

Baxter knew. Unless someone burst into his home to save him

-- and no one would, his life was about to end in a bloody mess

on the kitchen floor. He had an answer to the Armbatrol, would

he have another equal to the killjoy? He had never seen a

killjoy in person but from his office desk and incessant curious

nature to solve problems, Baxter had ample opportunity to access

an old web archive where information still flowed freely, even

if much of it was often false. He studied this fascinating,

gruesome instrument. Baxter knew of their lethal outcome. Once a

spy hunter runs it through your skull you enter a state of

euphoria. It lasts only a few minutes. In that time you have

left, you will answer any question asked of you. No amount of

salt will stop a killjoy. There is no surviving it. There is

little time for the victim to answer. For some it’s thirty

seconds, others have minutes. As your blood drains from your



seconds, others have minutes. As your blood drains from your

ears you feel utter peace and joy. The instability of time to

ask questions makes the killjoy a last resort. A reliable means

to only a few answers. In the end, you die. But in that window

of questioning nothing goes unanswered. Every answer is true.

Most believe it's the blood loss that kills you. Others will

tell you it's just the final outcome of your brain being

scrambled by a buzzing wire shot through your lobes. Baxter's

natural curiosity as an engineer always questioned this; could

any person defeat such an instrument? Long ago, he determined

there might be a way, but who would ever want to find out? In

his research, he surmised that even if you could defeat the

instrument you couldn't defeat death. Now he was facing this

baneful device. Who would find him first? His wife? Please not

his daughter!

It was this moment of weakness Baxter blurted out an unforced

truth. “His name is Logan Ollera.” Tesher recognized this name,

but now he knew it was as unreal as the name Desmond Van Damn.

The Armbatrol 88 was generally effective, but seeing that Baxter

could spite it and relinquish what was probably a fake name

impressed Tesher.

“And.” prompted Tesher playing along patiently. There was no

response. Unknown to Tesher, Baxter’s solution gave him ample

strength to fight off the drug. Tesher knew with 88, the

questions must be direct to elicit a specific answer. “What does

he look like?” Tesher waited.



“He...” Baxter fought. “He...”

“Describe him to me, Baxter.” Prompted Tesher.

“He has...” Tesher appreciated Baxter’s resolve over the

drug. Tesher stared at Baxter’s lips. It was all about to come

rolling out of Baxter’s mouth. Tesher anticipated a full

description of his face, height, along with everything he needed

to know about his next target. Then it came. “He has...”

Tesher’s eyes lit up as Baxter coughed up the answer.

“C....c....confident hair.” Tesher’s head twisted in a knot as

he couldn’t help but laugh. This answer quickly made it clear.

Baxter’s fate couldn’t come quick enough. Tesher turned to his

tool kit.

With little hope, Tesher asked an open-ended question while

he secured anchor screws into the kitchen wall. “Make the wise

decision. Tell me what he is working on.”

“How do you find a wise man?” Answered Baxter.

“Don’t play games. You won’t like my toys.”

“Look for a fool.” Finished Baxter.

“What -- is he -- working on?” Tesher repeated. He knew he

was onto something if Baxter was offering up gibberish.

Baxter had him here. He answered the question truthfully

without answering the real question. “He's solely responsible

for a project requiring that data you are holding be kept

secure. Should anything happen to him, no one he is dealing with

will work with my company to move the project forward without



will work with my company to move the project forward without

starting completely from base level...”

“Base level?” Tesher wanted clarification.

“To us, it has no price you could pay. For others...Billions

lost. He is the trusted architect of something unimaginable. You

do realize if he doesn't make contact with me, he'll know to

make changes in his plans. Whatever you think you are after, you

will never find it. By killing me, you will trigger the end to

your trail.” Baxter just told Tesher everything without giving

up anything. It wasn’t the everything Tesher was commissioned to

find. It also frustrated Tesher because he was given vague

instructions from his employer. He resolved that if he ends up

killing both his targets and his employer is left with lost

billions, it’s his damn fault for not being specific. Although

-- Tesher was instructed not to kill the targets. Tesher had

never been the type to compromise his means of operation. His

next move was hardly risky. The killjoy would ensure the

outcome. Still, Tesher thought about his special instructions

which were more an empty threat. His employer knew he was hiring

a particularly lethal spy hunter. Tesher Soleme smiled to

himself. He truly enjoyed killing people. This job made it

harder for him and that suited him just fine.

Tesher figured he now had something to start from. He tried

once again to ease Baxter into his answers through conversation.

“Yes, but I will still know who he is, and he won't know who I

am.” It pleased Tesher to say that. His own eyes turned towards



am.” It pleased Tesher to say that. His own eyes turned towards

Baxter as he smiled, and yet Tesher’s smile never reached his

eyes.

Tesher’s hardened features would allow no more than a smug

stare which was met with equal defiance. “Are you not listening?

I'm not going to tell you who he is. You know that.”

Tesher taunted him back enunciating, “What is his real name

Bax-ter?”

“Nndddd, nnnnnnnnddd.” Baxter fought with gnashing teeth and

pain throughout his jaw. His head began to throb as if a warning

it would burst if he didn't answer.

Sensing Baxter may break, Tesher asked again. “What is your

friend's name?”

Baxter told himself, he wasn't protecting a friend. What he

was protecting amounted to a brother, Baxter fought again.

“Nnnnnddd aaaaah.”

“What is the project? Does it have a code name?” Projects

always have code names. This leading question was another tactic

Tesher had lined up to draw out answers or clues ahead of the

killjoy. Silence. Baxter was now able to fight back with

silence.

Tesher now wondered why Baxter fought so hard to suppress the

name while answering other questions. Nothing could be gained

from the position Baxter was in. Tesher continued to read

Baxter’s answers and actions. Baxter wasn't being forthright, he

may be mixing truth with lies.



Fighting through the stress Baxter continued. “I d-d-don't

know. You've eavesdropped our c-c-comms. You know I d-d-don't

know.”

“Why is this project in the hands of one man?” Asked Tesher.

He leaned over and removed Baxter's broken comm from his wrist

and slipped it into his pocket. It may be useful later.

Baxter was a dead man, and he knew it. But he also deduced

that the spy hunter didn't know what he was ultimately searching

for. He was obviously on a haystack assignment in which Baxter

had a bounty of information the spy hunter was unaware of. They

don't come often but when they do, haystacks test the patience

of even the best spy hunters. It's when an employer doesn't give

you specific details of what you are after, keeping much need-

to-know information out of a spy hunter's hands. Baxter took no

joy in answering Tesher's probing questions except for this one.

“Because every acquisition he's ever made has been kept

secret -- he's an itinerant phantom in the industry. He's a face

with no soul.” Could Baxter keep Tesher focused on his chase and

not the goal? He needed to keep Tesher from learning more than

he was bargaining for. Baxter knew success was in achieving one

goal. He could not give up Dalton’s real name. Tesher could

never have the next target. Baxter counted on that. He

understood Tesher’s plan. Now he had his own plan. If only he

could live to see the look on Tesher’s face if it succeeds.

Baxter continued to feed Tesher bits and pieces and his last



Baxter continued to feed Tesher bits and pieces and his last

sentence was cut short by what now appeared Tesher’s

frustration, “He’s alone and lives...”

“He lives alone. A lonely life. Give me a break Baxter, this

is a soulless world. Save philosophy for someone with a

conscience.”

“He's the best there is at keeping a secret; a soulless

peripatetic.” Baxter further explained. Everything he just said

was literal truth. His hope was to tell as much truth without

saying anything of relevance. He knew now remnants of the

Armbatrol 88 were in his system and forcing him to speak. He

focused to subvert it as best he could through controlled

compliance.

“A man like that lives a lonely life. Boo-hoo. I'm not

impressed. We all live lonely lives. But let's assume you are

telling the truth, Baxter.” Tesher laughed as he went on, “Ha!

Of course, you're telling the truth! Even lonely men give up

secrets Baxter.” It was becoming clear to Tesher the truth serum

was opening Baxter up. He quickly spun a chair and sat at full

attention prompting Baxter to continue.

“Logan is a stolid man. Friends in every city but the company

knows he's indiscernible.”

“What is the company name?”

“Vee-vee-vee.” He sighed as if he needed to recover.

“Ooo. VPS.” This new information stunned Tesher. VPS was the

last name on his list if he had one. Yet this new starting point



last name on his list if he had one. Yet this new starting point

made sense. In the farthest back of his mind, it made sense. It

confirmed his wildest speculation. It is just gone to prove

one’s instincts are always best. Tesher’s confidence showed in

his commentary. “The most private of the big ten. You two are

well vested. He must have one place he travels he calls home?”

Tesher questioned.

“Yes!” Baxter felt his head splitting from his fight against

the Armbatrol 88.

“Where is the place your friend calls home?” Asked Tesher.

“He’s not my friend.” Baxter glared.

“Not your friend.” Tesher immediately answered aloud.

“Not my friend,” Baxter repeated. He knew the next question.

And it would be hell to dodge.

“Is this person family?” Suddenly Baxter loved this question.

He could answer this truthfully. In doing so, this spy hunter

would never be able to find him.

“No.” Answered Baxter. And despite it being the truth, it was

also a lie.

The frustration returned to Tesher’s face. He tried to

disguise it. “Let’s go back then. What city does this person

call home?”

Baxter's head dropped with shame, “Aeroplane City.” He was

beginning to have trouble keeping the words inside himself. His

struggle to give up some information the Armbatrol demanded

began to create more and more physical pain by withholding it.



began to create more and more physical pain by withholding it.

The salt he licked off the floor had counteracted the drug some,

but the drug still had a lot of bite.

Seizing the opportunity Tesher interjected, “What's his name?

What’s his fucking name, Baxter!”

Nothing. Baxter shut down. The pain of withholding Dalton’s

real name made him all but pass out completely. The sweat on his

face was pooling. The remaining salt on the floor made his face

burn in the sweat as he collapsed. Tesher needed to get his prey

back on track before he simply passed out from stress. He

returned to his leading questions to prevent Baxter from

blacking out.

“Why is Aeroplane City the truth?” Asked Tesher.

“Because it is true. And because you won't be able to track

him there, you know that. Aeroplane City is the one place no spy

hunter wants to track a man.” Baxter didn’t stammer on this

answer.

Tesher felt the burden of his prey passing out was no longer

an immediate concern. “You have a point,” Tesher answered. “But

I'm not your typical spy hunter. I’ll take that challenge.”

Tesher leaned back cocking his head in satisfaction.

“You? One man?” Baxter began to laugh with what satisfaction

he had left in life.

Tesher’s body turned in agreement. “You’re right.” Then he

smiled a knowing smile.

“What does he look like? When will he be there again?”



“Will you let me go? Just leave me tied up somewhere a week,

but let me live!”

“I'm sorry. Did I say that?” But the idea did fit in with

Tesher’s instructions to get his information without killing his

targets. He turned his head towards Baxter as if he was

considering it. Then he taunted him. He turned his head just a

bit further once again to demonstrate he was never serious. This

may have broken Baxter.

“Why is this important to you?” Baxter demanded. Meanwhile,

his mind raced to the end of every possible outcome in extending

this conversation. Nothing could save him. Every outcome was

death. The only choice left was how to die. People die in

accidents never knowing their time had come, others die from

disease in a fading life but with the opportunity to have

dignity. This short notice was as close as Baxter would get to

have a choice. Baxter’s mind raced. Tesher was right, most

everyone on the planet lives an isolated existence within their

soul. Then there were those like himself. Those with families,

fortunate enough to have blood relatives with emotional

attachments. Baxter felt he had little time to make choices. He

looked off in the distance at his daughter’s guitar resting in

its stand. He’ll never see her play it again. She’ll never have

him to play for. Baxter knew she would find him. He knew how he

wanted her to find him, with a shred of dignity. In this choice,

he would also save the one person this man was out to find --



he would also save the one person this man was out to find --

and if the mood struck, kill. In all this Baxter accepted he was

about to die. Baxter could have one element of satisfaction. He

could take control of one last thing in his life. His death.

This situation was without precedent. Tesher decided to

violate his creed of being the one to give up information. “I

know you’ve been telling me the truth for good reason. My

employer did tell me it's worth a lifetime of money for several

entities. You’ve confirmed that. He also told me that you two

would most likely separate the information between you two as a

safeguard. I need what both of you have. I’m certain what’s on

this data dot is half of a complete set. You two are just too

smart to keep what I need all in one place.” Tesher paused

pretending he didn't mean to share that information. “Damn. Now

there is the reason why you will die.”

“But I'm telling you what you want to know!” Baxter lashed.

What Baxter could not comprehend was that he was as vital a

prize as the person Tesher was in search of. It seemed this spy

hunter was asking the wrong questions, starting at the end

instead of the beginning. This made it easier to lie with the

Armbatrol 88 in his system. He simply did not realize Tesher was

sent to find what Baxter had been blackmailed over once before.

Years before.

Now all these years later, a lethal spy hunter was given

vague instructions to get whatever Baxter Robertson and his

partner were responsible for creating. Tesher was told so little



partner were responsible for creating. Tesher was told so little

of what he was looking for, it’s impossible to find. Tesher felt

pressure of his own from this job. He was given credit for being

able to find information without knowing what it was he was

looking for. Tesher recalled the last words of his meeting with

his employer. “Give me more than this. You want me to track one

man to another and bring you what both of them are hiding.”

“Look. Mr. Soleme. It may take weeks. Surveillance of Baxter

Robertson could take months to yield results. But eventually,

Baxter will make contact with his counterpart. By that time, he

and his partner should give you a clear idea of what it is you

need to bring back to me. And let me be clear. If you poke

around to learn more than you should -- if you run with my

assets, I have the resources to pay every merc on the planet to

bring you back to me in a thousand pieces. It’s advisable you

learn just enough to bring me what I need from Baxter and his

counterpart. Despite your propensity for killing, do not retire

these targets without retrieving my assets first.”

Tesher looked down at Baxter. “Yes, and for a moment there I

thought I could trust what you were saying was true. Now you've

left me with the difficult task of finding out what parts of

that story are true.” Tesher couldn’t get the read on Baxter he

needed. Baxter was protecting this man. A man that was neither

friend nor family, who does that? He deduced that Baxter was

willing to lie for a man he had to care for. He must work with

this person inside the company. It’s not someone outside his



this person inside the company. It’s not someone outside his

company. Tesher thought of the call from this man. The comm call

Tesher intercepted was free and easy except for the cryptic

discussion. When it came to interrogating subjects, Tesher had

never seen anyone put another life ahead of their own; meaning

only one thing. These two men were close. Very close. Blood

close? So who is this man? He has no living relatives. Even his

father is dead. All his research into the background of both

Baxter and his alias Desmond came up empty. The why no longer

mattered to Tesher. What it did mean is Tesher's hand has now

been forced.

Tesher used the Armbatrol 88 effectively, subjects talk when

you bait them and trick them. Yet direct questions allowed

Baxter to win the war against the truth serum when he knew what

questions he wanted to fight from within. As long as Baxter

answered questions with truths in them, his body experienced

some relief. To lie would cause pain so Baxter’s responses were

just enough for him to withstand the drugs force.

Baxter struggled in his ropes. Knowing he wouldn't get far,

Tesher let him. It took several failed attempts but he managed

to flip his body over to his back. With his head no longer

twisted to one side his eyes met Tesher's. This time there was

anguish in a fading voice. “I am telling you what you need to

know.”

Tesher began to screw an anchor into the wall. Squeezing the

eyelet of the anchor screw left dimples on the flesh of his



eyelet of the anchor screw left dimples on the flesh of his

fingers as he twisted it.

Tesher muted his frustration in the failing truth serum. Once

again he returned to Baxter's bindings. “You are neither telling

me what I need to know, nor telling me the truth. You would

think a man whose life was hanging in the balance would spill

his guts. Instead, I'm going to have to spill your brains.

Ollera could be a common name, thanks for nothing. I don't know

of any vested citizens with common names. It's impossible the

man you described has the surname of Ollera.” He turned to

think. “You screwed up Baxter,” said Tesher. Baxter was about to

futilely strain against his bonds but at that moment Tesher

jerked Baxter's body to one side as the binding of rope was

looped through the first wall anchor. The spy hunter had begun

the process of immobilizing Baxter's head. “This isn't personal

Baxter. Tell me what I need to know and make it true and I will

just snap your neck. Your family won't have to come home to a

mess.”

“Does life mean that little to you? Where is your humanity?”

Asked Baxter.

“I am a spy hunter Baxter. This trade is not for the weak of

heart, and I lead a lonely life.” He mocked. “And how dare you

speak of humanity. What era are you living in? Next, you'll try

having me believe you love your wife. You could have won that

fight and I would be dead. You would have drug me out to your

curb with the garbage and no one would have asked why. Would you



curb with the garbage and no one would have asked why. Would you

care? No. You'd just want answers and move your family.”

“You broke into my home!”

“You have nothing left to negotiate Baxter. Don't cave on me

now and leave this world without your dignity. You've been lying

to me to protect this man. You know I'm not going to let you

live. We've both run out of options.” Said Tesher. Both men

understood each other.

Baxter found it impossible to believe this moment was taking

place. Just an hour ago he was about to cook eggs and a waffle.

Every particle of his being begged to wake up from a horrible

nightmare. “You're a philistine. What do you know of dignity?”

Tesher continued his work. “See that is where you are wrong

Baxter. You expected some Neanderthal. We are not lumbering

brutes, we are called spy hunters for good reason. We need to be

as cunning as we are cold. I can't say I'm sorry Baxter. This is

my job. I'm not as angry as when we fought but you won't make me

feel guilty that I must take your life. This is my job. Don't

expect me to care. I don't. But if you tell me what parts of

that story were true, I'll kill you quickly and give you a bit

of respect as you exit this earth.”

“Respect?” Baxter's eyes emptied and descended to the

ground. The answer told his assailant what that offer meant to

him in a time like this. He did not want to accept that he had

to die yet he understood that this man would not let him live no

matter what truth he revealed. Baxter's only choice now was how



matter what truth he revealed. Baxter's only choice now was how

to die. Would it be with dignity or shame? And which shame was

worse? Was it better to tell this spy hunter what he needed to

know dying a clean death, or death by killjoy? Both deaths would

be unbearable for his family when they found him. The killjoy

would mean they would find him in a pool of blood and that he

died through forced interrogation on the worst of terms. Baxter

fought to collect his voice through anguished sobs. “I'm not

going to tell you.”

“Why are this man's secrets important to you?” Tesher asked.

But he had already considered that question before asking.

“Baxter, you're a fool to protect this man. You have a family. I

could kill them too you know. This world has no value for human

life, yet in my line of work for all the killing that we do, we

do have our ethics you know. Without them, our line of work

would be foul and reprehensible, no one would pay us, that's for

certain. I'm going to kill you, don't make me kill your family

too.” As Tesher said this his skill as a detective was computing

on the fly. All this talk about family made him think. What

makes a man's life important to another man beyond the grave?

Tesher began to think aloud “...Family.” He realized. “I am all

he has.”

Baxter looked at Tesher without answering. Tesher knew he was

right.

“You do realize what's next?” Said Tesher rhetorically. His

voice was as unsympathetic as the cold floor pressed up against



voice was as unsympathetic as the cold floor pressed up against

Baxter's battered face. He shifted his body again to speak

clearly.

“You tell me I should die with dignity. Dead is dead. Blood

or no blood.” Just then Baxter spits blood from his mouth to the

floor.

“I go where the hard money leads me, Baxter.” Tesher had just

finished setting the second anchor in the opposing wall. Now he

methodically placed a reinforced synthetic ring around Baxter's

head. It sat on his head like a crown but snugly in place, the

crown below the apex of Baxter's cranium. On each side was a

large ring. Tesher fed the cord through them, then he ran the

binding cord through the first anchor eyelet. “You should be

proud. This job is paying more than any other in my career. I've

never worked on contingency before but the amount of gold marks

this will pay -- it was impossible to say no.”

“I know what you don’t. If you kill me, I take a secret to

the grave that can never be brought back. There is no way you

are being paid to kill me.”

“No, I'm not. As of now, you are, 'out-of-pocket'. So why

make yourself a wasted expense? Tell me who Logan is. I want his

real name.”

“I don't want to die,” Baxter whispered to himself, feeling his

humanity was being stolen from him.

Tesher heard him. “No one does Baxter.” He continued his

work. “Where can I find him?” Tesher asked. There was a pause of



work. “Where can I find him?” Tesher asked. There was a pause of

expectation.

“Highwind.”

“Is he there now?” Asked Tesher.

“No. He's not. No one knows his itinerary but me. Logan

Ollera is his travel V.I.” Giving up this information devastated

Baxter inside but the pain was excruciating. He needed relief.

“You -- How are you doing this? I have to give you credit.

88 delivers piercing pain. You just take it!” Sang Tesher.

“Although I do believe you that he's only using his alias to

travel. You put up a good fight Baxter. I'll give you that. I

shall give you one last chance to clean up this story.” Tesher

held out his wrist and tapped out the command. A recording of a

conversation began from one of Tesher's intercepted calls over a

parabolic mic. The call was clear but the recording hissed and

scratched over the words.

“Mr. Van Dam.” spoke a careful voice. (Static)

“We have a problem.” Answered Baxter. (Hiss)

“We?” Answered the voice.

“Yes. Remember that perfect batch of cookies.” (More static)

“Yeah. I do.” Replied the voice.

“We need to use your oven.” Said Baxter.

“I thought we agreed the recipe and cookware would remain

separated...”

Tesher paused the recording, “Well, Baxter. Where’s the

cookware?” Tesher was proud at this moment. He truly believed he



cookware?” Tesher was proud at this moment. He truly believed he

had solved his employer's tricky riddle. “No, don’t tell me yet

Baxter! You will!” Tesher began to smile that turned into a

silent laugh. He pressed play again.

“You can’t say no,” Baxter stated through his alias.

“If it’s that serious...”

“It is.” Answered Baxter.

“I won’t be back in town for over a month. Can it wait that

long?” Asked the voice.

“Yes. But if sooner...”

“Ship it to me.”

“Are you sure.”

“If it’s serious....”

“It’s serious,” Answered Baxter as Desmond.

“When can you send it?”

“I already did.”

“Perfect.”

Tesher stopped the recording and now Tesher's voice climbed.

“I’m impressed. I am! An encrypted call and you’re still talking

in double-speak! You two are really paranoid. As if that wasn’t

a problem enough I need an answer to, both Logan Ollera and

Desmond Van Dam's identities go back ten years! I stopped

crosschecking from there. That means if Desmond Van Dam is you,

Baxter, then who is Logan Ollera really? You two are operating

the most complex virtual I.D.'s I've ever crossed. Any spy

hunter including myself would have never questioned the



hunter including myself would have never questioned the

authenticity of these I.D.'s. -- and that has never been done

before. Never. Shit like this created my trade! Sure, people

using bogus identities to start a new life with or live a second

life with are the reason spy hunters exist but we haven’t had a

challenge in forever. You two are an impressive pair. And you’re

both into something huge Baxter. Either you and this Logan

Ollera stole someone’s identity or these are the world’s only

passable V.I.’s.” Uttering these words blew Tesher’s mind. He

leaned his head back and closed his eyes to concentrate. He

began to think aloud. “You can only be one person so logically

it's obvious. Despite these V.I.'s being perfect -- they are

still V.I.'s. You've done it, Baxter. You two are the only men

in existence to pass off a V.I. as real. And for that alone, I

just can’t allow you to live, nor him. You both need to go. My

employer is going to pissed that I’m violating a non-kill order

but this is for the good of society. On principle, you and your

partner need to go. I was warned you may have offer something

tangible in return for your life so...”

Baxter cut in. “I can give you one.” By that he meant a V.I.

for Tesher himself.

“Wow.” This honestly stunned Tesher. “That’s tempting.” He

thought. “Honest.” And then the gears stopped turning in

Tesher's mind. “No. And while I’d love to have a dual identity

like you, this is for the greater good. And frankly, I like my

name. It has an ominous ring. So I’m Sorry Baxter. Nice play.



name. It has an ominous ring. So I’m Sorry Baxter. Nice play.

Damn nice play. Back to business. You going to give me his name

and I end you with dignity or do you want your family to find

you in a mess?”

Baxter chose his answer. “No.”

Tesher looked at the killjoy. “For such a smart man you make

no sense. That threat on the counter is now a guarantee.” Tesher

was now finishing up fully immobilizing Baxter. He passed the

time offering one final praise to Baxter. “I couldn't crack your

V.I.'s. Not in a hundred years” Tesher said openly musing. “Not

to me -- and to my knowledge no one will.” Tesher couldn't help

himself. He had to give Baxter and his mystery man credit for

possessing the only two virtual I.D.'s he could never crack and

still this wasn't what he was sent to find. Tesher's mood broke

back to the present. “I'm leaving here with his real name

Baxter, and I'm leaving with what you are hiding. Give me those

answers. I don’t want to do it this way.”

Baxter was thinking ahead of how this situation would end. It

was now Baxter decided to give the spy hunter a measured amount

of information. Dalton would dispose of the V.I. the moment he

learned of his death. He won’t ever track Logan Ollera. All he

has to do is keep the name Dalton Vrees from leaving his lips

and he will die in peace. What remained to motivate Baxter to

talk could only be attributed to the anxiety and shock his body

was experiencing.

Baxter began, “Logan Ollera is a Virtual Identity I created



Baxter began, “Logan Ollera is a Virtual Identity I created

for someone... he's a brother to me.” Here again, Baxter was

able to concede to the truth serum and keep enough truth hidden

in those words.

“Ollera? Robertson? I assume his real name is Robertson?”

Said Tesher.

“Our Virtual Identity has been like magic until now. You are

the only man to know the complexity of these dual identities.”

Tesher continued his work, thinking over the potential truth

of Baxter's words. He stared at Baxter deciding the truth. He

needed the name. The real name.

Baxter had a harder time delivering his next lie. “I'm the

sole programmer who has built numerous virtual identities no spy

hunter will ever crack. Believe it, spy hunter, killing me will

put a price on your head. To a handful of men at VPS, I'm a

commodity of extreme value. They'll want retribution once you

kill me.” Tesher knew for a fact this was an empty threat. He

knew why it was an empty threat. And even if the threat had

merit, fees to collect on spy hunters are never claimed. Spy

hunters don't hunt spy hunters, they are not only ethically

bound to that creed, but they also honor it in self-

preservation. It's a line spy hunters refuse to cross.

The tidbit of information about programming impenetrable

virtual identities Baxter fed to Tesher was interesting.

Normally he'd extract more about it from Baxter. He was too

focused on his present task. The enormity of finding Baxter’s



focused on his present task. The enormity of finding Baxter’s

partner overshadowed the clue lying before him. Tesher would

later regret this oversight. The spy hunter had one more man to

catch and find some sort of private tech these two have created.

His tunnel vision in looking for hardware obscured the fact that

hardware was how Baxter and his partner created their

unbreakable aliases. Tesher didn’t want to rely on finding

Baxter’s partner through his alias, but Tesher had spent days

researching everyone connected to Baxter Robertson as Mr.

Desmond Van Dam. Those interviews proved him out and passed that

name off as a real identity -- something Tesher never

encountered before. He had no idea he was communicating with a

machine running complex artificial intelligence programmed to

protect those identities.

Tesher reasoned whoever Logan Ollera really is, he most likely

works at VPS with Baxter. If true, it isn’t the filter he had

hoped for. VPS is a legacy from the Pan Global Era. It’s one of

the few companies spanning cities, teeming with thousands of

employees, each with their own research and development,

engineering departments. Delivering this information to his

contact would not be enough to warrant payment. It will be

better to chase this lead. With the target working for the same

organization he can’t break into the VPS network. It’s a

blessing in disguise. VPS has a formidably secure network no one

breaches. Even for a spy hunter, it would come at great risk.

Baxter needs to either give up Logan Ollera’s real name or



Baxter needs to either give up Logan Ollera’s real name or

confirm other vitals. This trail can’t dead-end here.

Baxter would meet an ugly end but Tesher knew clear the first

and only question he planned to ask once he fired the Killjoy

through Baxter's ears. What is Logan Ollera’s real name?

Tesher had now finished mounting the two eye-hooks. A

separate cord was bound to each side of Baxter's head. Each side

ran to opposite sides of the room and back to the center where

Tesher could draw his hogtied victim tight and tie it off.

Baxter's body would be completely immobile. There will be no way

to twist and turn to avoid the killjoy. Tesher only needed to

hold the gun’s spring-loaded wire to one ear and shoot it

through the other. As the wire fried his brain, Baxter would

answer any question with a joyful smile until suddenly, he’ll

collapse dead.

Tesher had a plan. He knows Baxter wants to keep the name.

But once the killjoy is fired into Baxter’s thick skull, that

name is all Tesher’s. Why not get the ancillary answers for

free?

“Baxter, I have to hand it to you. You are smart. You know

once I shoot this killjoy through your ears, I have a very

limited amount of time to get the truth out of you. I need to

make my questions count as some people die quickly, while others

take longer. I can't be sure just how many questions I'll get to

ask – I may only get one. I'll make a special arrangement with

you. On the honor of my trade I promise you, if you tell me



you. On the honor of my trade I promise you, if you tell me

where this man is going, I will not wait around and kill your

family when they get home.”

Baxter and Tesher locked eyes. Tesher gave Baxter the time he

needed to decide if he was going to accept the deal. It seemed

Tesher was about to lose patience when Baxter answered. “Okay.”

Baxter took the bait.

“Tell me which flight manifests. Is Logan's real name on a

manifest? What does he look like? Tell me -- and your family

lives.”

Baxter paused. A true pause that Tesher knew was being

thought out. He had to risk this one truth in trade of his wife

and daughter's life. Baxter knew this spy hunter could never

catch his prey. “You swear on your trade you won’t harm my

family?”

“As much as I do like killing Baxter. I have no interest in

killing your family. On the honor of my trade, if you answer

this question. They are in the clear. No games. No one else will

touch them either.”

Baxter answered. “He's due to arrive in Aeroplane City in two

weeks, I don't know the manifest because I don't know what city

he's in now. I only know that in two weeks he has a meeting

August 2nd.”

“That’s a Monday.” Considered Tesher. “I need a description,

what does he look like?”

“165 centimeters, dark hair with sideburns that end in



“165 centimeters, dark hair with sideburns that end in

daggers.”

The threat and the promise, combined with the truth serum

jarred some much-needed information for Tesher. “I need a name

Baxter. I need his real name.”

“I told you. You are on your honor not to kill my family.”

Intensity and perspiration displayed Baxter’s stress from not

spitting out Dalton’s real name.

“What does D-Res mean?” Asked Tesher. His patience was gone.

“What?” Baxter's answer couldn't have been more surprised. It

was a question not driven by Tesher’s employer but curiosity

from overhearing it in his private conversations with the

mysterious Logan caller. Tesher looked at Baxter as if about to

kill him. There was a long hard stare from Tesher. Could it be

that Baxter had no idea what this question meant? Baxter was

committed to saving everyone but himself.

The two men locked eyes. It was clear. This time Baxter would

not answer. Just then Tesher pulled the cord around Baxter's

head snapping his body upright and vertical. Baxter's eyes

became wider than any other moment in his life. Baxter continued

in a resigned hush. “I love you, Sarah.”

“How quaint.” Said Tesher in disgust. He began to talk aloud

as if talking to himself. “People spend lifetimes in selfish

narcissism. Only in their dying breath do they ever think of

anyone but themselves.” Tesher lowered the killjoy to Baxter's

left ear taking his time to ensure the shot was on the mark. If



left ear taking his time to ensure the shot was on the mark. If

not precise it would not exit the right ear rendering the

killjoy useless. The demeanor of both men changed in an instant.

Tesher became vexed while Baxter stopped fighting as if his soul

had spoken. A part of Baxter wished beyond reason this could be

a nightmare. He was entering a state of shock from the intense

fear of what was about to happen to his body. He closed his eyes

and softly repeated his love for his wife. “Sarah...Sarah...”

The words died in a whisper.

“I respect you Baxter but you did not choose a dignified

exit.” Said the spy hunter.

As Tesher delivered the shot Baxter stuck out his tongue. The

wire hit the dense tissue of Baxter's brain yet could not travel

to the other side gently ending its trajectory missing its

expected path of exiting his left ear canal. There was no quiet

hum from the buzzing wire. He was dead. Baxter's timing was

flawless. It needed to be flawless, and his theory was correct.

Baxter's jaw and teeth reflexively shut on his tongue diverting

the barbed wire errantly into his skull killing him instantly.

His biting motion extended his jaw – the killjoy missed its

mark. Baxter had left this earth on his terms, with his self-

respect. Tesher was every bit astonished. The surprise left him

angry enough to kill Baxter's wife and daughter were it not for

the honor of his trade. He looked down at Baxter’s dead body,

“You better hope they don’t come home before I leave.”

Yes, spy hunters kill without remorse but they do kill with



Yes, spy hunters kill without remorse but they do kill with

purpose. If you carry a sloppy record, new employers come few

and far. And although this job would pay enough to retire on, he

had not earned a fraction of a gold bar yet. Right now, he

couldn't justify killing Baxter's family to his contact. All the

more reason they would live. Perhaps when the job is done he'll

come back and settle it. For all his rational thinking the

monster within him wanted out. “Dammit!” Cried out Tesher as he

threw the killjoy at the floor. It skidded into pieces. He

stopped himself quickly to collect his thoughts taking a huge

breath through his nostrils. In a calming moment, Tesher

considered what he had to work with. He was paid to get a real

name, but he had enough to use. He collected some information

that he could report to his client. It was enough to keep the

assignment going. Tesher took this personal. He needed the

satisfaction of killing this guy Baxter died for. Tesher even

felt a sense of intellectual greatness as he convinced himself

that had he not used every other means to gather information

from Baxter, he would have walked away with nothing. This

outcome meant Tesher would have to cast a wider net to catch his

prey. He will even need help. Turning to the lifeless body

Tesher shook his head in disbelief. He witnessed the impossible

with his own eyes. He had never known a killjoy to fail. What he

witnessed by Baxter's intelligence was a secret that not only

Baxter took to his grave, so would Tesher. To be sure, Tesher

pulled the killjoy from Baxter’s lifeless body. He made a crude



pulled the killjoy from Baxter’s lifeless body. He made a crude

exit hole out his other ear and cut out his tongue. He must have

tripped an alarm when ransacking the house. Security sirens were

wailing in the distance. It was time to go.

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Documents

Killjoy (PROOF COPY -- Not for distribution.) # # Chapter ... · My primary assignment is your partner’s name. Save me and yourself time and pain. Tell me your partner’s name.”