The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

how the
Kid was coping.
    ‘Hurry up, man, there’s
not much time!’ he yelled.
    The Kid was securing
the lid onto the front of Gaius’s tomb, imprisoning him once again for all
eternity, or until the fire got to him, whichever came first. He looked back at
Dante and waved him away.
    ‘I got one more person
to kill,’ he yelled back.
    ‘What? Who?’
    ‘Elijah Simmonds. He’s around
here somewhere.’
    ‘Are you nuts? He’ll be
long gone by now. There’s not enough time for that. You’ll burn in here!’
    The Kid took one last
look at the Mummy’s Tomb, checking it was closed. He turned back to Dante and
pulled the hood on his coat up over his head.
    ‘There’s always time to kill one
more.’

 
    Fifty-Nine

 
    It had been a pretty
great day all round for Elijah Simmonds. After killing the local Police Captain
he’d spent twenty minutes packing all the cash from Cromwell’s safe into a pair
of suitcases. As he sat contentedly at Cromwell’s old desk in his new office
drinking a large brandy he contemplated his options. He could stay on as
manager of the museum, a job he had always coveted, or simply skip town with
all the cash. Life was good.
    He’d had two large glasses
of brandy already as he waited for James the security guard to call and let him
know when Rameses Gaius had finished the job of mummifying Dante and Kacy in
the hall downstairs. It was almost midnight when his desk phone rang. He
allowed it to ring three times before casually answering it.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Hi boss, it’s James.’
    ‘Is it done?’
    ‘No. Things have gone
all to shit down there.’
    Simmonds let out a deep
sigh. ‘Oh fuck. What’s happened?’
    ‘Gaius and his vampire
buddies are toast. The Bourbon Kid just wasted them all. And the place is on
fire.’
    Simmonds sat up sharply
in his black leather chair. ‘What?’
    ‘They’re dead. I saw it
all on the monitors here in front of me. I say we get the fuck out of here,
boss. That fire is spreading. And I’ve lost sight of the Bourbon Kid.’
    ‘Shit. Call the fire
department. And then get your ass down here!’
    ‘Are you kidding? I’m
getting the fuck out of here! See ya later. And good luck.’
    James sounded panicky.
Hardly surprising really. He’d already had his nose broken by the Bourbon Kid
on their only previous meeting. He probably wanted to be as far away from him
as possible.
    ‘James, don’t hang up!’
Simmonds yelled. ‘I’ve got a hundred grand in cash up here for you. Just come down
here. Don’t leave without me. We can leave together. We’ll be safer that way.
James? Jimmy? You still there? Jim?’
    The line went dead. He
hoped James had heard him. Surely a hundred grand was enough of an incentive to
come down to the office?
    Simmonds glanced over
at the dead body of Captain Dan Harker on the floor to his left by a wall of
bookshelves. He’d had the guts to blow Harker’s brains out. The evidence was
still all over the wall to prove it. Could he kill again if he had to? He
opened the top drawer on his desk and reached into it. The gun he had used to
kill Harker was still there. He pulled it out of the drawer and checked the
chamber. It still contained four bullets.
    He tucked the gun in
the back of his suit trousers and picked up the two suitcases full of cash from
the floor by the desk. Both cases were heavy. He placed them down on the desk
in front of him. This was quite a dilemma. If he carried both cases he wouldn’t
have a free hand to carry the gun. His mind was racing as he tried to figure
out the best thing to do. The smart thing would be to leave one suitcase behind
and walk out with the gun primed and ready to fire.
    As he was contemplating
what to do, he heard a knock at the door. He pulled his gun out and pointed it
at the door, his hand trembling.
    ‘James?’ he called out.
‘Is that you?’
    From the other side of
the door he heard James’s voice. ‘Yeah. You seriously got a hundred grand in
there for me?’
    ‘Yes. Shit yeah. Come
on in!’
    Simmonds kept his gun
pointed at the door and watched as the handle twisted. The door clicked and
opened slowly inwards. Standing in the doorway was James. He looked nervous.
    ‘Here,’ said Simmonds,
gesturing to one of the cases he’d plonked onto the desk in front of him. ‘Grab
one of these.’
    James looked down at
the case on the desk. He looked like he was about to cry. Nerves or a
conscience had clearly gotten the better of him. Simmonds put his gun