by David Carter
“Or else what?”
Francois motioned to one of the security guards getting ready to pull the trigger on his machine gun.
Blaze spat on the ground an inch from where Vino lay nursing his leg; his brand-new white trousers were soaked in blood.
Two of the captains stood up as Blaze approached the circle of men. Their intentions were obvious as they started rolling up their shirtsleeves. Mr Lombardi checked the time on his pocket watch, then calmly held up his hands. “Please, my sons, take your seats. There is no need for any further violence.”
One of them protested. “But, Papa, he disrespects you in your own house. He must be taught a lesson.”
Blaze interrupted him. “I think if you shut the fuck up, you’ll discover it was Vino who disrespected my girl when I had already made a deal with Mr Lombardi to leave Brighton. Didn’t he?” He turned to face Mr Lombardi as he queried him.
“This is true,” he agreed. “So now you call a truce with Vino, yes?’
“No,” replied Blaze.
“No? Is it not enough that I let you come into my home and hurt one of my family while we look on and do nothing? Please tell me you have put this matter to rest. I could have you skinned alive where you stand. But instead I offer you a place in my home, and you say, no?”
Blaze relented with an exaggerated sigh. “All right, Mr Lombardi. You have my word; Vino and I are square.”
“And what do you say, Vino?” he asked him as he gingerly limped onto the patio with Francois’ help.
“The matter is closed, Mr Lombardi. Let everybody here know that what I did was wrong. I know all of you would want vengeance if someone you loved were taken from you.” He looked Blaze in the eye as he said, “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. Please accept my heartfelt apology in front of my family.”
Vino’s words seemed to cut deep into the circle of men. They all nodded their heads in appreciation of his sincerity.
Blaze looked at Archer, who encouraged him by nodding slightly. “I accept your apology,” Blaze replied.
“Good, then the matter is settled,” said Mr Lombardi.
We are far from fucking settled, thought Blaze.
I should have killed your whore when I had the chance, thought Vino.
An hour later, after Vino was sworn in as a captain, and Blaze had formally been cleared of any past discretions, he and Archer sat in silence in the rear of the limo as it purred out of Mr Lombardi’s driveway. Archer was first to break the ice. He said to Blaze, “I thought I told you to be on your best behaviour today? What the hell was that?”
“I’m still in one piece, aren’t I?”
“You are lucky to be. What you did was both bold and incredibly stupid.”
“It’s not like I fucking killed him,” he protested. “I only gave him a scratch. It would have a lot worse if Francois hadn’t have stopped me when he did.”
“That’s not the point.”
“So, what is, then?”
Archer changed the subject. He leaned forward and picked up a manilla folder off the vacant seat opposite where they sat and handed it to Blaze.
“What’s this?”
“Details necessary for your special delivery tonight. Memorize and destroy them.”
“Tonight? I thought you said I had to earn your trust first?”
“Mr Lombardi let you walk out of his mansion alive, even after your ridiculous stunt. He must think highly of you. So I am reasonably satisfied that I can trust you.”
“Whatever you say. But just so you know, I’m still going to Summit Lake with Danny. I owe him. And I always keep my word.”
Archer sighed. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Blaze, but you don’t stand a chance of getting anywhere near Saul Gunnerman. Why don’t you cut your losses and concentrate on the task at hand?”
“No.”
“Look, I know how stubborn you are, and that I can’t change your mind, but trust me when I say you won’t come back alive if you attempt this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve got a plan, and I actually need your help to pull it off.”
Archer took off his glasses and gave them a polish. “I’m listening...”
“I’m going to offer him a deal, with a gun held to his head if necessary, to join forces with you and Mr Lombardi, or enjoy the thrill of eternity in hell after I use his head for baseball practice.”
“He won’t go for it. He’s a man to his own law. I doubt you’ll even get close enough to threaten him.”
“Let’s just say I do, and he does accept. Will you and Mr Lombardi meet us on neutral turf and sit down with him?”
“It’s risky; I’d have to bring more than two or three dozen men with me for protection, as I know he’ll do the same.”
“Make sure you bring every last man at your disposal.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
Blaze told him his simple, yet effective idea.
Archer smirked. “It’s a daring plan; I’ll give you that. Let me think it over and get Mr Lombardi’s opinion. Then we’ll see how the cards fall. But in the meantime, take this.” He handed him a blue polo shirt and cap with the logo of ‘Mervin’s Wholesale Meats’ emblazoned on them. “You are to wear these for your delivery tonight. And make sure you commit to memory everything in that folder: the manager’s name and phone number, the depot’s address, and your cover story should you get pulled over for any reason. The manger, Mervin Sanders, is on my payroll. He’s given us one of his trucks to use for our deliveries. So feel free to use him if necessary.”
“I got it covered.”
“Good.” He paused a moment, then said something that Blaze never expected to hear. “I must admit, I’m glad to have you on board, Blaze. I much prefer you on the same side of the fence as me.”
“Never mind the fact you held Zoe’s life over my head to make it happen...and then there’s The Wolves’ Den.”
“Yes, well, I apologise for the way you were recruited, but you need to take some perspective. For starters, Vino abducted her, not me. Then Mr Lombardi held her prisoner before I came along and gave her a clean and comfortable place to stay. So when I recruited you, I essentially found a way to set her free.” He paused, then said, “And what do you honestly think would have happened to her if I didn’t make you my offer?”
Blaze had to admit he was right. “Okay, I see your point; they’d have probably fed her alive to the dogs.”
“Exactly. So you see? I’m not as cold-hearted as you may think. We all got what we wanted: you are back as president of your beloved Motorcycle Club, Zoe was released with no harm coming to her, and now I have you at my disposal.”
“If you say so.” He rolled his eyes. “But you’ve got no excuses for the way you treated me in The Wolves’ Den.”
Archer held his hand up. “What can I say? It was a power-trip gone too far, and yes, I enjoyed every minute of it. I’d do it again, too. But that twisted chain of events is what led you back to the life you once loved before you graced Winterhill with your somewhat charming attitude. And don’t forget for even a second that I let you live after you burnt down my warehouse and forced me to abandon my home and position in Woodridge.” Archer’s tone was beginning to harden as he started to realise just how much Blaze had cost him. But he calmed himself, then said, “The past is done with. Both I and Mr Lombardi know what a powerful asset we have with you. So let’s both put it behind us and move forward, shall we?”
“Fine by me,” said Blaze as Francois pulled into the clubhouse’s driveway. Blaze stepped out of the limo to walk inside.
“Just one more thing,” said Archer.
Blaze turned around to face him. “What?”
“Take this, just in case you run into any trouble tonight.” He handed him a brand-new Glock 17 handgun, complete with a fully loaded magazine. “And remember, Blaze: one a.m. down at the docks. Don’t be late.”
Whatever you say, asshole.
Chapter
10
“You made excellent time, detective,” Commissioner Stuart said. He offered his hand to Detective Cameron Ryan as he entered his office. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ryan replied respectfully, then said, “if you don’t mind me asking, what’s so urgent that you had to fly me up here by chopper at a moment’s notice?”
The welcoming smile on the commissioner’s face vanished. “Well, simply put: I’ve been told that you are top of the pile when it comes to solving the more ‘unusual’ murder cases that crop up from time to time.”
Ryan shifted his body weight in his chair to get more comfortable. “Well, it all depends on what you would define as unusual,” he replied.
The commissioner picked up a folder off his desk and handed it to Ryan. “Take a look at these photos and give me your opinion,” he said.
Ryan screwed up his face as he saw what appeared to be a deceased human figure made up from ten severed body parts, lying down on a patch of freshly turned soil on the bush floor. He noticed each limb had been cleanly cut from its respective owner. Some limbs had darker skin-tone than others. One leg was longer than the other. The torso was much larger in proportion to the rest of the body parts and clothed in a black, leather vest. “What the hell is this?” asked Ryan.
The commissioner exhaled heavily. “I have a team searching for the rest of the victims’ bodies as we speak,” he answered. “So far they’ve uncovered two more graves within spitting distance of this one.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ryan muttered. “What can you tell me about the victims so far?”
Ryan noticed the prominent frown lines on the commissioner’s forehead as he replied, “Well, for nine of them, very little: presumably all female, aged between fifteen and twenty years of age. However, we have a strong lead on the tenth victim: male, biker, goes by the alias ’Fish’, which is why I’ve called you in on the case.”
Ryan was confused. “Surely if you have such a strong lead you could have put a more local detective on it? I’m swamped as it is back in Milton.”
“I’m sorry to drag you away from your work, detective. But it’s my hope that you might be able to assist in bringing down one of the biggest crime syndicates in the country.”
Ryan wasn’t sure what the commissioner was alluding to. And before he had a chance to say anything, the commissioner pulled out a photograph from the folder and held it up for Ryan to see. He asked him, “Do you recognise anything of significance in this picture?”
Ryan observed the name and emblem of the motorcycle club on the back of the leather vest in the photo. “The Sinners & Scarecrows Motorcycle Club,” he replied. “I’ve had dealings with one of their former members, quite recently in fact.”
“That’s correct, you have, detective. I believe he goes by the name, Blaze?”
“Yes, sir. He proved most useful in bringing down one of the most ruthless serial killers I’ve ever encountered in my career. I do believe he’s gone straight now, though. His days in the MC muling drugs and weapons are over.”
The commissioner’s stern face didn’t budge.
“Sir?”
“I regret to inform you that your information is a little out of date. I received word that he’s re-joined the MC and works for the Lombardi family once more. And he’s even initiated a new member into the club that I’m sure you are familiar with: Danny Foster?”
“Er, yes, sir,” Ryan stammered, unsure where the commissioner was going with this.
“Tell me something, detective. Where did you meet this Danny character?”
Ryan’s heart started beating frantically. Beads of sweat started forming on the naturally tanned skin of his forehead. He’d suddenly realised that he was in serious trouble, as he had known Danny was an escaped prisoner when he’d taken him in, and that he had personally helped him change his identity when working the murder case with Blaze in Glendale. He knew Danny was innocent of the crimes he’d been convicted of, and was never afraid to bend the boundaries of the law. He knew he was doing the right thing, which is why the tall, handsome detective, in his mid-thirties, had got himself into trouble with his superiors on numerous occasions in the past.
“You look nervous, detective,” the commissioner said smugly. “Is there something you would like to get off your chest?”
“I—I— I think I had better call my lawyer,” Ryan stammered again.
The commissioner smiled. It was a smile that appeared friendly, yet arrogant at the same time. As though he knew something Ryan didn’t. “Why don’t you just let me do the talking,” he said.
Ryan ran one of his large, masculine hands through his short, brownish-blond hair as he sat nervously at the commissioner’s desk.
The commissioner retrieved a cup of water from the water cooler in the corner of the room before returning to Ryan, then said, “I know all about Danny, and the fact he was under your care when he was an escaped convict. And the funny thing is, according to his records, he is officially classified as deceased. Yet he seems to be very much alive and breathing. How can this be, detective?” he asked rhetorically. “You do realise it is a criminal offence to aid and abet an escaped convict, yes? And when you add identity theft to the mixture you’re skating on extremely thin ice. Some might even say you’re drowning! However,” he paused to take a sip of water from the white Styrofoam cup, “it is my understanding and opinion that Danny is not guilty of the murders he was imprisoned for, which means I’m going to cut you some slack.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ryan, exhaling heavily with relief.
“But it’s going to come at a cost.” He eyeballed him sternly.
“Cost?”
“You heard me. You must do as I say, or you can kiss goodbye your career and say hello to a prison cell, which with a face and physique like yours I’m sure will please many a dick-whipped inmate.”
Ryan was taken aback. He said, “Sir, with your permission, may I ask how you came across this information?”
“No, you may not,” he replied curtly.
Ryan sighed in defeat. “What do you want from me?”
The commissioner cleared his throat. “You are to work the murder case of the biker and the nine Jane Does. And while you’re investigating, you are to find out anything and everything, criminal or otherwise, you can about Blaze, the MC, and the Lombardi family. We believe they have ventured into a new market, besides bringing weaponry and drugs into the country illegally, and I’m extremely anxious to find out what it is and where they are getting it from. I believe Blaze will be privy to such details. As of right now, it is your job to stay close to him and gain his trust, and report back to me with every last bit of information you procure.”
“Is that all?”
The commissioner’s pale lips twitched before he said, “If Blaze, or any of his associates aren’t convicted and thrown behind bars within one month from now, you will be taking their place. I will lock you up and throw away the key myself. Do you understand me, Detective?”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan answered meekly.
“Good. Now get out of my office before I change my mind.”
Chapter 11
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door to the commissioner’s office. He looked up to see the commissioner’s secretary hand him a large, yellow envelope. “Here is an up-to-date report on the case,” she said. Then she handed him a set of car keys and a credit card. “Your rental car is parked beneath the building in the basement. It’s the grey Mitsubishi Lancer. You can’t miss it. Your hotel is only a few blocks away from here: The Ambassador’s Lounge. I have already made the necessary arrangements for you.” She smiled.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“My pleasure, Detective,” she said flirtatiously as she subtlety looked him up and down over the top of her large, red-framed glasses.
Ryan hastily brushed past her and headed out to the elevator. When it opened he stepped inside and pressed the button for the basement. He f
lopped back against the mirrored rear wall while calming jazz music played quietly from the speaker in the elevator’s ceiling. You stupid fool, he thought. You should never have jeopardised your career by helping Danny and Blaze. Now look at the bloody mess you’re in.
The elevator quickly descended from the top floor of the high-rise building to the basement. Twenty-something levels. Ryan’s mind was too frantic to notice how many floors there were in Brighton’s police headquarters.
The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the poorly lit basement. He saw a row of neatly parked police cars, all shiny and ready to roll at a moment’s notice. Then he saw it, tucked in between a late-model BMW and a Mercedes Benz, his grey Mitsubishi rental car. “Could be worse,” he muttered to himself.
He blipped the alarm on the keyring, and sat in the driver’s seat. Just before he was about to start the engine his phone rang. He answered the call. It was the commissioner. He sternly said to Ryan, “Open the glove compartment.”
He complied, and saw an item that had been left for him to use during his investigation. You cunning bastard, he thought.
“Make sure you wear it at all times, starting right now,” said the commissioner sternly. “And don’t try anything stupid like warning Blaze. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. There are no second chances, detective.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Do you understand me?”
He swallowed the lump that felt like the size of an orange in his throat. “I understand,” he replied.
“Good. I expect to hear from you soon.”
Ryan clicked off and tossed his phone on the passenger seat and put on the device the commissioner had left in the glove compartment for him. He tried not to think about the betrayal he was about commit as he fired up the Mitsubishi’s engine.
After checking into his hotel and grabbing a quick bite to eat, all courtesy of the limitless new credit card he had just acquired, he drove out to the crime scene where now a fourth and fifth grave had been uncovered. “Has the world gone mad?” he quietly said to himself as he squatted over the most recently excavated site.