Free Clickers III by Brian Keene, J. F. Gonzalez Page A

tunnels came in handy. This building is over seventy years old and—”
    Above them, the sound of destruction increased. One of the Dark Ones roared. It sounded like a thousand bull alligators in a swamp roaring together in unison.
    Jennifer and Ed pulled Susan to her feet. Susan was no longer letting her fear control her. She was up and then standing at the doorway with Wade and Keoni. She dived through, followed quickly by Wade, Jennifer, and Ed. Keoni darted in after them and pulled the door closed, sealing them inside.
    It was so dark Jennifer couldn’t see Wade, even though he was pressed up against her right side. Susan’s hand accidentally brushed her face as she worked at untying the gag from around her head. Jennifer braced herself for some screaming, wondering if she could knock the woman out with a punch to the head if she started, but Keoni was already in charge. He turned on the flashlight and Jennifer saw that they were in a narrow, dirt hallway. The door they’d come through was sealed tightly shut on the basement entrance. Surely the Dark Ones weren’t smart enough to find a hidden door, were they?
    “This way!” Keoni exclaimed. “Come on!”
    He darted down the tunnel and Jennifer and the rest of what remained of her team followed him as the ground shook above them.

“Now…let’s try this again, Mr. Genova. Okay?”
    Tony struggled hard to keep his cool. He didn’t know how long he was knocked out, but it couldn’t have been for very long. The next thing he knew, he was seated in one of his kitchen chairs, bound to it with thick twine. He knew the twine well—it was his, taken from the toolbox that he kept behind the vacuum cleaner in the closet.
    Tony pretended to sigh and roll his eyes. In actuality, he used the movement to glance around the room. The interior of the condo was still dark, and the three figures who’d burst in uninvited were standing around him. He couldn’t hear or see anyone else.
    Three against one, he thought. I’ve been in worse situations. Of course, I wasn’t tied to a fucking chair at the time.
    “Mr. Genova?”
    “I thought I fucking told you cock suckers…my name’s Larry DiMazzio.”
    “In 1994 you were arrested and charged for the murder of Andrew Mihailov.” The man that said this looked barely young enough to shave or have his learner’s permit. “Your former employer, Mr. Marano, pulled some strings with the DA and the charges were dropped.”
    “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, kid.”
    “The Mihailov family still doesn’t know who really killed Andrew. They knew of your arrest, of course, but the District Attorney was able to convince them it was the work of a Crip faction that had settled in the area briefly. The Mihailov family took care of that problem.” The man paused, cocked his head at Tony. “You remember what happened next, yes?”
    Tony locked eyes with the baby-faced little fuck and tried to stare him down. The guy was telling the truth, but he couldn’t let himself be psyched out. The little fuck didn’t even blink. Neither did the other man, whom he now saw was taller, slightly older, with a smooth shaven face. The woman was dressed like her partners, dark slacks and shirt, dark overcoat. Her black hair was pulled back and tucked in a bun. She wore little to no makeup. Still, she was a looker. Despite his situation, Tony couldn’t help but let his gaze roam her body, exploring.
    Baby-face cleared his throat. “Mr. Genova? Do you remember what happened?”
    There was no sense in pretending. Obviously, they knew who he was. They weren’t buying the Larry DiMazzio cover. The only question that remained was who were they—and what did they want? Were they here to settle an old score? Unfinished business? Or maybe the remnants of the Marano empire had finally tracked him down?
    Tony shrugged. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. What’s it to me?”
    “Just a confirmation that we’re not as stupid as you’re