View Full Version : The Hunt for The Mysterious Management - A Mike Hunt Adventure

08-11-2001, 11:10:41
It was one of those days when I knew I wasn't going to get round to drinking my coffee whilst it was still hot. I was sitting in my office with my feet up cleaning out the second of my twin .55 pistols. I'd had them specially made for me by a greatful gunmaker when I rescued his daughter from some particularly nasty kidnappers. Of course it was hell to get the ammunition for them so normally I just used them to whack people over the head with. Plus when I did fire them the recoil normally knocked me over.

It was at that moment that the broad entered the office. "You Hunt" she stated it rather than asked and looked at me with obvious distaste her gaze passing and pausing on my dirty feet on the desk and then the half empty bourbon bottle next to it.
"Hunt's the name, Hunting's the game!" I grinned. She didn't. I have to admit, she was one of those broads that normally gives me a look on the street like, if you get too close to me I'll be contaminated by your stench. Well I get that, you might be more lucky. Anyway, that's the kind of look I was getting now.
"I have a problem Mr. Hunt and I've heard that despite your appearance you are the best person to help me" She almost spat the word person, like it didn't apply to me.
"Well pull up a chair doll." From the reaction I'm not sure she'd ever been called doll before.
"You may call me Miss Lurker." Sheesh a real posh one here. "And I'd rather stand." Shit, I'd forgotten about the stain on that chair. Oh well.
"You got a first name Miss Lurker, for the records." I made no attempt to get my notepad.
"Miss Rachel Lurker." Like I should have heard of her. I hadn't.
"So what can I do for you Miss Lurker." I couldn't help smiling. This was just too funny.
"I need you to help me find someone..."
"I can do that."
"please don't interrupt me Mr Hunt. As I was saying I need you to help me find someone. I have recently been left a half share in Counterglow Industries. The problem is, I don't know who I'm sharing them with and... well, I've been threatened not to look into it. I got a letter saying I'd get my share of the profits but if I poked my nose in I'd regret it."
At that point I heard the squeaky floorboard outside the office creak, I looked up to see a shadow at the window and it was all I could do to dive across the desk and knock Miss Lurker to the floor before the ratatat of machine gun fire tore apart my office.
Looked like this was going to be an interesting case.

08-11-2001, 12:12:02
"Can I get another one of these Jimmy?" I was in Jimmy's bar, whoever machine gunned my office also took out my bourbon. Bastards.
I thought back to the events in the office. Once the dust had settled and I'd loaded my .55s, why do they always shoot up my office when I'm cleaning my guns, I took a look outside. There was nothing there. No-one in the building had seen anything. It was a total mystery. Still I guess that was what I'm here for, mysteries are my business.
The broad seemed more offended by me jumping on her than grateful for me saving her life. I don't know what I expected really. She went home, refused my offer of a lift, refused my offer of protection. Just walked out, cool as a cucumber and told me she'd return tomorrow to see what I'd found out. Like someone shot at her every day. I was going to need some help on this case. Assuming the machine gun guy was after the dame and not some disgruntled con who wanted to sprinkle my body with lead that is. Wouldn't be the first time and I doubt it'd be the last.
I needed someone with a bit of muscle. So I phoned someone and the slamming of the bar door suggested that he'd arrived.

09-11-2001, 18:42:01
Across the busy street from “Jimmy’s Bar and Grill” was parked a cheap-looking dull black sedan. To almost everyone in the city its appearance, and the extra antennae stuck on its roof, screamed ‘cop car.’ The man behind the wheel was Detective Lieutenant Roger [Roscoe] O’Mack, a 15-year veteran of the force. It had been a long 15 years clawing his way up from being a rookie cop on the beat to his rank in homicide.

“Yeah, I just saw him go in, Over.” He said into the mike of his police radio.
“The Chief sezs that youz should go in and ask a few questions Lieutenant, Over.” Crackled the speaker.
“Nothing would give more pleasure. O’Mack over and out.” Replied the detective as he thumbed off the radio and then checked his weapons; a 9mm P38 he had “liberated” in the war which had replaced his nearly useless regulation .38 Police Special, and a .32 backup strapped to his ankle. Deciding that he was ‘good to go’ he opened the car door and eased his no longer muscular body out of the seat. He paused briefly to make sure he had his supply of cheap cigars before crossing the street, dodging traffic, on his way to the bar.

Sir Penguin
10-11-2001, 10:28:34
"O'Mack!" I said, letting slip a little bourbon and a lot of surprise.

"You were expecting somebody else, Hunt?" the Lieutenant asked, sneering like he already knew the answer, which he probably did.

The door slammed again, and this time the brushing of two shoulders against the doorframe clued me in to the identity of the new patron.

"Ah," smiled O'Mack smugly, "I have such amazing timing."

"Too bad you only use it to catch beers on the bar, Lieutenant," I said, making sure that when I said the rank, it dripped with... something.

"O'Mack," stated a voice whose owner I could see, but my adversary could not. I have always been impressed by the way O'Mack could turn around to face Venom, keeping his hands in plain sight, yet managing to look imputent and distainful at the same time. The Lieutenant knew full well that you never heard Venom's guns' hammers being cocked, since they always were.

"Lieutenant Keith O'Mack," repeated the voice.

13-11-2001, 18:32:09
As O’Mack turned to face the hulking bruiser that was Hunt’s favorite hired muscle, all of the patrons of the bar swallowed their drinks and started easing toward the back door.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite jailbird, Venom.” O’Mack said in a soft voice. “And you damn well know that Keith was my brother who was murdered a year ago. They never found out who the murderer was. At least not yet.”

“Yeah, It’s me alright. Keith or Roscoe, it don’t make no difference to me. Now are you gunna leave my boss alone or will I hafta rip you lungs out through your asshole.” Suggested Venom hopefully.

Mike Hunt still sipping his12-year old single barrel bourbon, knowing things could spin out of control in seconds every time Venom walked into a room, decided to defuse the situation.

“Come on Venom, sit down and have a drink. The Lieutenant isn’t going to hurt anyone, now are you Mr. O’Mack.” Offered Mike Hunt.

“That’s right I just want to ask your handler a few questions.” Said O’Mack to Venom as he backed up until he could keep both Mike and Venom in sight at the same time.

“Grrrrrrr.” Replied Venom but he did sit down on a bar stool and ordered a Bloody Mary.

“OK shoot Lieutenant, how can I help you?” replied Hunt.

“What do you know about a Miss Rachel Lurker, aka, Lady Rachel or Mrs. Rachel Shinning or Miss Rachel Nite?” quizzed O’Mack.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Rachel Lurker was seated in the back of a chauffeured canary yellow Cadillac speeding toward the grand estate of Mr. R. C. King, a multimillionaire who had links all over the world. Most of these links were business related but it was also rumored that he had a vast worldwide network of agents that gathered valuable commercial, political and military information for sale.

20-11-2001, 11:05:56
Rachel pressed the button by her side that activated the intercom to the front of the limo. "Shakey, would you mind pulling over at the next convenient shop? The freezer back here seems to be out of Ice Cream."
"Yes milady, sorry about that, I am sure I restocked it last night."
"It's OK Shakey, it's been a stressfull couple of days. You'll need to speed up to get to Mr King's on time as well, we don't want him irritated now do we."
"No milady."
Rachel sighed and cut off the intercom. Shakey was very efficient but not very imaginative. Of course if he was more assertive she'd have to fire him but it did make things a little dull.

* * * * * *

At King Hall Mr King was observing his Russian 'guests' training in the garden. Quite why Mr King might require what looked very much like 10 Russian commandoes in his garden was something that puzzled his butler Poster a little but, of course he'd never show it.

"Yes, what is it Poster?"
"Miss Lurker's driver just called to say that they've had a little car trouble and they might be a little late."
"OK fine, let me know when they arrive and make sure that we have some ice cream on ice. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time."
"Indeed not Sir, will there be anything else Sir?"
"I'll have another Ouzo please Poster."
"Of course."

26-11-2001, 18:02:40
“Jimmy’s Bar and Grill” was now totally cleared out of its usual clientele of bookies, marks, sailors on liberty, the women who earn a living from them and other assorted losers. The only persons left in the dark, smoky, flyspecked dive were Mike Hunt, P.I., his loyal bone-breaker Venom, Lieutenant Roger O’Mack of Homicide and one very brave and lovely bartender by the name of Nell. Mike Hunt tries to look surprised at O’Mack’s question as Venom works on a quart sized “Bloody Mary” and plays with a fuzzy lump on the bottom of the “Pickled Pigs Feet” jar. Nell stands aside polishing glasses behind the bar within easy reach of the baseball bat she uses to end noisy arguments.

“What was that Lieutenant, a Miss Lurker? Hmmmmm, was she a brunet about yah high and yah around? Nah never heard of her. What’s this all about O’Mack?” stalled Mike.

“You know damn well who I mean Hunt. A little birdie told me she was seen leaving your office just before one of your admirers ventilated it with a chopper. I don’t think that’s a coincidence buddy.” Snarled O’Mack who didn’t like anyone shooting up his end of town, even Hunt’s dump, without knowing about it.

“Thanks for the heads-up Roscoe, but I know how to take care of myself. Remember that time in Fresno.” Blustered Mike as he started to wonder what he had gotten himself into.

O’Mack visibly tensed at the overly familiar reference but let is slide. “Fresno, Schmesmo, this is big time trouble Hunt, way over your pointed little head. You talk to this dame again you contact me, got it?” And this seemed to close the conversation as O’Mack eased his way out of the bar door, his eyes never leaving the back of the broad shoulders of Venom who still seemed to be fascinated by that morsel on the bottom of the jar.

“Look out Mikey, take care this time” Suggested Nell still polishing her complete set of Star Wars shot glasses. “This doesn’t look good. Remember that time in Milwaukee? You promised me that that would be the last time.”

Mike looked back at Nell affectionately, placing his hand on hers and a sawbuck on the bar then winking, “I’ll be OK this time Nell.” Then to Venom, “Com’on big guy, we got work to do.”