"That depends on how important your intelligence is," the red-haired man said. "Standard intel can be sold in rooms 1 through 4 across the way. I can also make an assessment. If it's truly important, you may be taken to the main house."
"Who's in charge of the main house?" Henry asked. "I have important intelligence."
"About what? I'll need to make a preliminary assessment."
Henry's hands moved. Two 15-centimeter throwing knives flew from his sleeves, burying themselves in the guard's right eye and throat. The man collapsed without a sound.
"Hands up," Henry said, a 1.2-meter-long rapier now resting against the red-haired man's throat. "Don't scream. Trust me, you're not faster than I am."
The young man stared, his mind reeling from the impossible display. The cold steel against his neck sent a wave of terror through him.
"Friend," he stammered, his hands shooting into the air, "I don't know how you did that, but you'll never get out of here. There are dozens of armed guards outside."
"Answer my questions, or the guards won't be your problem," Henry said, his voice flat. "Who is in charge of the main house? Who is the boss behind this black market?"
"The boss here is Daisler. He's on the second floor of the main house. I swear, I don't know who the big boss is."
"How many guards are in the main house, besides the ten on the second floor?"
"I don't know! We're not allowed on the second floor."
"How many guards are in the surrounding buildings?"
"I don't know the exact number. Over a hundred, at least."
"Where is the intelligence center? The archives?"
The young man hesitated for a fraction of a second. The tip of the rapier pricked his skin, and a warm trickle of blood ran down his neck. "The first floor of the main house!" he blurted out.
"Are there any other black markets in Denver?"
"None that I know of."
"How many exits are there? And where are they?"
"I know of three. But explaining the way is… difficult. I could show you."
"That won't be necessary," Henry said. "Have a safe trip."
The young man's eyes widened in horror. He tried to push back, but the rapier shot forward, piercing his throat and driving up into his brain. He died instantly.
Henry withdrew the blade, looted both bodies, and emptied the cash drawer. He then walked out of the room, flipping the wooden plaque on the door from white to black.
The moment he stepped outside, he felt the eyes of a guard in the central garden lock onto him. The security here was tight. He knew he couldn't take them all out silently. His only option was a blitzkrieg. He would delay his discovery for as long as possible, but his primary target was Daisler, and his secondary target was the archives.
He took a few steps toward the center of the garden, then activated his Super Reflexes.
His hands became a blur, a whirlwind of motion, sending a continuous stream of throwing knives flying through the air.
One second later, the five guards within fifteen meters of him each had two knives in their throat. The five guards further out each had a knife in their chest and another in their gut.
Henry used a grey pearl to clear the talent's cooldown, and two double-action revolvers appeared in his hands. He opened fire on the ten guards on the second-floor balcony of the main house.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
In one second, all ten were dead, shot through the head before they could even fire a single shot.
He put his last two bullets into the first two guards who came rushing out of the mission rooms on the far side of the courtyard.
He swapped to two fresh revolvers and continued to fire, a preternatural sense guiding his aim. He knew who would shoot first, who was the greatest threat. His bullets met them the instant they appeared, cutting them down before they could raise their own weapons.
He emptied his second pair of revolvers in another second, swapped again, and continued the slaughter. As guards poured out of the nineteen rooms, he cut them down, the scene a blur of motion and death.
The battle had just reached a fever pitch when the main villa door was thrown open and the eight guards from the entrance charged in, their rifles blazing.
A massive granite block appeared in front of Henry, absorbing the volley of bullets. Three more blocks appeared, boxing him in on all four sides.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
He returned fire, and in a hail of lead, all eight of the new arrivals were cut down. Just then, eight more guards charged out from the main building behind him, their rifles spitting fire.
Six white husks and six grey ones shattered.
He emptied his third pair of revolvers, killing the eight men at the entrance, then swapped again and turned to engage the eight behind him, while still picking off the men pouring from the side rooms.
The chaos was absolute. At the peak of the battle, he was taking fire from over thirty men at close range. If not for the granite shields, the number of hits he'd taken would have more than doubled.
It was a storm of lead, a whirlwind of death decided in milliseconds.
From the first throwing knife to the last dead enemy, nine seconds had passed.
It was a true thunderous assault.
He didn't stop to finish the wounded. He moved through the nineteen rooms, one by one, hunting for any cowards or schemers who might be hiding. He found three. Another pearl husk shattered as he dealt with them.
Then, silence.