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

making us out to be.”
    “I never said you were.”
    “Your denial of who you are says otherwise,” the woman said.
    “Okay…look…” Tony said, regarding each of his captors with a glance, a knowing nod. “What’s up with the spook shit? If you’re wiseguys or cartel, then I’m Barney the fucking Dinosaur. And if you’re hit men, then you’re the chattiest fucking assassins I’ve ever met. So what’s the deal? Level with me, huh?”
    A commotion at the front door turned their collective attention away from Tony. The three quickly drew their guns. Tony’s heart thudded hard in his chest as his mind raced, trying to figure out who the hell these guys were and how to get himself out of here. He twisted his wrists and flexed his arms, trying to loosen the ropes, but they held fast.
    There was the sound of something heavy slumping to the ground outside, then a distinct knock. One sharp rap, followed by three knocks. The agents relaxed, dropped their weapons.
    The older guy approached the door, gun held out. “What waits at the center of the Labyrinth?”
    A voice from outside. “He who shall not be named.”
    “Riddles!” Tony grinned. “Hey, is this a private conversation, or can anybody get involved? Cause I got a riddle for you. What’s gonna happen to you fucks when I get loose? Anybody want to answer that fucking riddle?”
    They ignored him. The older guy opened the front door and another similarly dressed agent entered the condo, hauling a maintenance worker inside. The door closed behind him. The newcomer dropped the unconscious maintenance worker to the floor and stood over him. “We almost had trouble.” He held up a handgun, a Desert Eagle with
    a silencer. Tony had owned a weapon like that before, in his old life. Nice handgun.
    The older guy nodded down at the maintenance worker. “Is he clean otherwise?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did you bring beer?” Tony nodded at the newcomer. “Because I don’t think I’m gonna have enough for everybody.”
    The agents glanced at each other. The newcomer frowned.
    “Has he been like this all along?”
    “Yes,” the woman said. “He hides his fear and uncertainty beneath a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.”
    “What can I say, sweetheart. I grew up on Han Solo, avid Lee Roth, and Smokey and the fucking Bandit.” He turned to the newcomer. “What the fuck you bop the maintenance guy for? The man can’t even make a living painting the trim at this place without you guys knocking him out. What, you guys ATF or something? Some shit like that? Is that why you burst in here like this? Cause I got weapons? Makes no sense, but you’re too dumb to be anything else.”
    “You know very well we’re not ATF,” the older man said.
    “I don’t know shit.” Tony nodded at the maintenance worker. “If I was working this shitty job I’d carry a piece too. Never know what kind of shit bag’s gonna rob you of your week’s pay.”
    Groaning, the man on the floor stirred. When he tried to sit up, his captor placed a foot on his chest and shoved him back to the carpet.
    “Get off me!”
    “You tell them, brother,” Tony cheered. “Don’t let these fuckers push you around. I’ve got them right where I want them.”
    Without speaking, two of the intruders picked the maintenance worker up from the floor and forced him to sit in a chair across from Tony. Two kept their weapons pointed at him while the woman tied him up. The maintenance worker struggled, but Tony got the impression that the man was doing it to size up his opponents—probe their strengths and weaknesses—rather than to escape.
    “So what’s next?” Tony asked. “We gonna play Uno or Monopoly or something? Or wait. I got it! You fuckers are into that role-playing shit, aren’t you? Roll D20 and determine how many times you suck my dick.”
    Tony kept the banter up, but as he spoke, he eyed the maintenance worker intensely. The guy was no mere wrench monkey or lawn jockey. Tony recognized a