Hell's Horizon tct-2

by Darren Shan

  “Forget it,” I snapped. “I’ve been an executioner, but I was following orders. I could never kill for kicks or profit.”

  “Not even to save Bill Casey?”

  I shook my head uncertainly. “I couldn’t.”

  “You killed for The Cardinal. Why not for Bill?”

  “That was different. It was business. I’m not a killer.”

  “Perhaps,” Wami smiled. “Or perhaps you are, but have not yet realized it.”

  He left me with that thought, vanishing down the ladder like a spider, back to his web of a city.

  I woke Priscilla when I got home and told her about my day (omitting the encounter with Wami). I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep — on top of my other worries, I now had my debt to Wami to consider — but I was exhausted. I passed out while telling Priscilla about my conversation with Ama Situwa and didn’t wake till the sun was high in the sky.

  Priscilla cooked a huge breakfast. By the end of it I felt like sitting in a chair all day to vegetate. But there was work to be done, people to be interviewed, and though Priscilla again pleaded with me not to leave her, I was soon back on the streets.

  I called several of those I’d talked to yesterday, in light of my conversation with Ama, and asked if they’d been in the Skylight with Ellen the night before her murder. Nobody had been, though a few had seen her earlier that day. I thanked them for taking my call, then started on fresh contacts.

  I concentrated on work colleagues. I didn’t know many people from Preston’s, the company she worked for, and those I spoke to weren’t as forthcoming as her friends. Some questioned my identity and wanted to know how they could be sure I was who I claimed to be. I offered to drop by and conduct my inquiries in person but the manager who dealt with me was set against that — yes, Miss Fraser had been a valued employee and they regretted her demise, but life went on and they didn’t want strangers turning up at will, interrupting their routines.

  Ellen had always said she worked for the most uptight employers in the city. Now I knew she hadn’t been kidding. I convinced some of her less icy colleagues to meet me that night for drinks, and a few more said they might fit me into their schedules later in the week, but all claimed to know nothing of Ellen’s personal life or the men she’d dated.

  During one of the breaks I allowed myself between calls, my cell phone rang. One of The Cardinal’s secretaries. The Great One was willing to meet me if I got over there in a hurry, but it would have to be brief.

  Party Central was a hive of frenzied activity when I arrived. Teams of Troops were gathering in the yard, three or four per group, then setting out armed to the armpits. Frank was coordinating things. During a quiet moment I asked what was going on.

  “Manhunt,” he snapped, clutching a clipboard as if his life depended on it. “That bastard Capac Raimi.”

  “The Cardinal’s golden boy?” I recalled Frank’s previous outburst about the young pretender to the throne.

  “They got into a fight last night. We could have taken care of him then, but The Cardinal — in that glorious, fucked-up way of his — let him go. Vincent Carell and a few others ran into him later. He took them out.”

  “Vincent’s dead?” The news didn’t disturb me — we weren’t friends — but I was startled. Close confidantes of The Cardinal and Ford Tasso hardly ever met with sticky ends, unless they ran afoul of their masters.

  “Dead as disco,” Frank said without humor.

  “On the off chance that I see him, what are the orders? Shoot on sight or bring him in?”

  “Officially, bring him in. Off the record, blow the fucker away. There’ll be shit to face if you do, but I’ll back you up, even if it means my job.”

  Checking in my shoes and socks downstairs, I proceeded to the fifteenth floor. The halls were buzzing with Troops and other underlings. It took a while to shove through them and make it to The Cardinal’s inner sanctuary. His secretary held me up until he was free. About twenty minutes later, a posse of soldiers spilled out of his room and I was ushered in.

  The Cardinal was sitting at his desk, fiddling with a puppet. As I got closer I realized Frank hadn’t been kidding when he said the boss had been in a fight — his face was a mess.

  “You look like hell,” I noted, taking a seat.

  He managed a weak smile. “You should see the other guy,” he chuckled, then grimaced and clutched his sides. “It hurts when I laugh but that’s nothing to what it’s like when I piss. I’m getting old, Al. Time was, I’d have taken a beating like this in my stride. Now I feel like a lump of shit that’s been simmering on low for a couple of hours.” He let the puppet flop to the floor and massaged the back of his neck.

  “Enough of my complaints,” he boomed. “You didn’t come here to listen to an old fart moaning about himself. What can I do for you?”

  I told him about Bill, Valerie, the villacs. I didn’t run him through the entire story — time was short — but I filled him in on the key facts.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” he grunted when I’d finished. “About the woman lying to protect another, I mean, or those blind priests being involved. So, what can I do to help?”

  “Set your people after him. Maybe one of your informants knows who kidnapped him, or can find out. Spread the word that you don’t want him harmed. Demand his safe return.”

  “What makes you think his abductors will pay attention to me?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “Perhaps. But I’m too busy to deploy my agents. I’ll need a day or two, perhaps a week. My business with Mr. Raimi should have reached a conclusion by then. Once that’s done and dusted, I and mine are at your service.”

  “A week’s too long. He could be dead by then.”

  “We could all be dead by then,” The Cardinal replied. “My hands are tied. I cannot…” He hesitated. “You have heard the rumors that I’ve been grooming Mr. Raimi to succeed me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What I tell you now stays between us. You don’t tell anyone. Understand?”

  I nodded wordlessly.

  He took a deep breath, then locked gazes with me. “I’m dying. A brain tumor. I learned of it a year ago. By rights I should be dead already, but I fought like a tiger and earned an extra few months. I’ve three or four weeks to go, but any day now I’ll start to slide. My vision will fade first. I’ll lose my mental faculties soon after. I’ll spend the last week or two in a coma.”

  He smiled bitterly and waited for me to respond. I couldn’t. I’d always thought The Cardinal would go on forever. It never occurred to me that he was mortal like the rest of us, subject to the same random laws of life and death.

  “Say something,” he snarled.

  “I don’t know what to say. I… Are you certain?”

  “Sure as shit. You’re the only person who knows, bar my doctors. I’ve even kept Mr. Tasso in the dark. If word had spread, this last year would have been hell. I’d have spent it struggling to hold things together. You know what vultures are like when they scent death.”

  “Why are you telling me?” I asked, bewildered.

  “I want you to understand.” He leaned forward. “I’ve lived a life of sin and corruption. I suffer from no illusions — if there’s a hell, I’m heading there by express train. I have nothing to look forward to. I never had, not since killing my first man when I was still a child. All I have is this empire. I’ve devoted myself to it, and if it dies with me, my entire existence will have been for nothing.

  “I’ve groomed heirs in the past, to little avail. Capac Raimi is my last throw of the dice. If he fails, my life is a failure. That’s why I didn’t kill him for doing this to me.” He tapped his face. “Why I’m still feeding him rope and praying that he doesn’t hang himself with it. Why I’m clinging to hope rather than giving myself over to despair.”

  “But what does any of that have to do with me?”

  The Cardinal covered his eyes with the middle three fingers of both hands.r />
  “The villacs?” I frowned.

  “If Capac Raimi survives the next seventy-two hours and proves himself worthy of filling my shoes, he’ll need those meddlers. They’re more influential than you can imagine, and without their assistance, no man can run this city. I can’t afford to piss them off at this delicate stage.

  “In a few days, matters will have been resolved. Capac Raimi will have made his stand or fallen. Either way, I’ll be free to act, and then — assuming my tumor doesn’t kick in and turn me into a fruitcake — I’ll do all I can for you. We’ll go after your tormentors, find your friend, put everything right that can be put right. Until then, I must be neutral.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of The Cardinal’s extraordinary pledge, but there was no mistaking his earnestness. If he’d been playing with me before, he wasn’t any longer.

  “And in the meantime?” I asked quietly.

  “Go about your business. If you find the killer, do with him as you wish. If not, I’ll get in touch and we’ll make plans.”

  His secretary paged him and said Ford Tasso was on his way up. He thanked her and said she should send him straight in when he arrived.

  “I have to bid you farewell. Mr. Tasso has not taken his son’s death well. If I can’t calm him down, he might do something silly when and if young Raimi turns up again.”

  “His son?” I asked.

  “Vincent Carell. Ford Tasso was his father. You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t realize the secret had been so well kept. That’s why we went out of our way to overlook his deficiencies. In all honesty,” he said in a tone of strictest confidence, “his death isn’t too much of a blow. I’m only surprised the fool survived this long. He won’t be missed. Mr. Tasso will realize that once he’s had time to think about it. He’d better — if Raimi comes through, he’ll be the new boss. Wouldn’t do to have bad blood between them.”

  “You really think Tasso would serve under the man who killed his son?”

  “Ford Tasso was born to serve,” The Cardinal said, then led me to the door.

  I would see him once more from afar, two nights later, after he fell to his death, but this was our last encounter. As I made my way downstairs to collect my shoes, I brooded on how healthy he looked for a man on his last legs, and found myself wondering if hell was big enough to accommodate both Ferdinand Dorak and the First of the Fallen, and if it wasn’t, which of the two would be forced out. Old Nick was a mighty foe, but I couldn’t see The Cardinal playing second fiddle to anyone. The Devil might be about to get his ass kicked. I almost wished I could be there to see it.

  25

  I ended up exploring more blind alleys on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Ellen’s workmates proved as clueless as I’d suspected. None knew anything of her love life. I showed them photographs of Valerie, Ziegler and Nick, along with pictures of everyone else associated with the investigation, in case one would jog somebody’s memory, but although several recognized the now infamous Miss Thomas, nobody could connect any of the suspects to Ellen.

  Wednesday afternoon, following an uninformative interview with one of Ellen’s friends, I realized I was close to Cafran’s and called in to have a few words with Ama Situwa, to see if she could tell me anything about Ellen’s dinner companion. I guessed it had been Valerie in the Skylight bar with Ellen, but figured I should confirm it.

  It was quiet when I arrived and a bored-looking waiter pointed to Ama. She was laying cutlery on one of the tables. The silverware jangled loudly in her hands, which shook nervously. This impression was reinforced when I tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

  “Easy,” I said as she turned, brandishing one of the knives. “I come in peace.”

  “Then why are you sneaking up on people?” she snapped.

  “Didn’t mean to.” I stuck out a hand. “I’m Al Jeery. I called about Ellen?”

  Her face relaxed into a warm grin. “Sorry for biting.” She laid the cutlery down in a bundle. “Shall we go through to the kitchen? We can talk in private there.”

  I followed her into the back. Ama found a quiet spot and pulled up a couple of stools. She asked if I’d like anything to eat. I said I didn’t want to impose.

  “So,” she smiled. “What would you like to know?”

  “You saw Ellen in the Skylight the night before her murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any idea of the time?”

  “After nine, maybe a quarter past.”

  “She was with another woman?”

  “Yes. They were waiting for dates.”

  “Do you know if they were going on together from there or if they were planning to separate?”

  “I’ve no idea. The bar was noisy, I’d had a few drinks. We didn’t say much.”

  “The other woman — could you describe her?”

  “White. Pretty. Well dressed.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention. I might recognize her if I saw her again, but…”

  “No problem.” I forced the smile I’d been making good use of recently. “If you can spare the time, I’d like you to look at some photos.”

  “Sure.”

  I took out the envelope, shook a few snapshots onto the table and shifted through the pile, lining them up. “If you see anyone you know, please let me…”

  She wasn’t listening. Her eyes had focused on a picture and her lips were pursed. She leaned her head sideways, reached for the photo, stopped. “May I?”

  “By all means,” I told her, heart starting to pound.

  I watched with sick fascination as she picked up the photo and studied it. She sorted through the rest of the pile until she found another.

  “This woman… I can’t say for sure — it was dark and I didn’t get that good a look — but I think this is the woman I saw with Ellen.”

  “It can’t be,” I said shakily. “You’re mistaken.”

  “Maybe, but it sure looks like her.”

  I stared at the photos in her hand and suddenly, terribly, it made sense.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, sliding off the stool, almost tumbling to the floor.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching out to steady me.

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I have to leave now. You’ve been very helpful. Thank—”

  I started for the door.

  “Mr. Jeery — your photographs.”

  “Keep them. I don’t… Goodbye.”

  I rushed out of the restaurant and fell to the pavement, panting, forcing back bile. I raised a hand and watched it shake like crazy. Gradually, as minutes passed, the shaking subsided and I breathed normally. When I felt steady, I stood, fetched my bike and pushed it along for a while, collecting my thoughts.

  I knew who the link was. The lover. The pieces fell into place neatly in retrospect. Ellen saying she might surprise me. The porter in the Skylight who said Valerie Thomas could be a lesbo. Priscilla and Nic tricking together, closer than ordinary friends. Ellen laughing — a wedding wouldn’t be appropriate.

  So obvious. Hard to believe it had taken me this long to figure it out. I didn’t know the motive, but that would come. One short ride and all the answers would be at my fingertips. I wouldn’t even have to search. I knew exactly where to find the monster.

  I climbed on my bike and started pedaling, slowly at first, then faster, furiously, till I was flying, a hurricane on two wheels, destination — home.

  Ali was bagging bagels as I started up the stairs. I retraced my steps. He burst into a smile when I entered. “Hello, my friend!” he greeted me, emerging from behind the counter to pump my hand. “Back on your feet and hungry again? I can guess what you are after. Salmon and cream cheese, yes?”

  “No,” I said softly.

  “The new lady in your life has changed you,” he chuckled. “An occupational hazard of love, yes?”

  I cleared my throat. “You should shut up shop for a while.”

  He frowned. “Is this a
joke, my friend?”

  I shook my head. “Go for a walk and don’t come back for a couple of hours.”

  Ali stared at me. “You know I cannot desert my post.”

  “You’re not a soldier, Ali.”

  “Still…”

  “Trust me.” I grasped his shoulder and squeezed softly. “You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to get involved.”

  His eyes swiveled upward, as if he could see through the ceiling. When he looked back at me, he wasn’t any the wiser, but he nodded. He didn’t know what I was going to do, but he knew I wouldn’t ask him to leave unless it was bad.

  “I will go for a walk,” he decided. “I could do with the exercise, yes?”

  I clapped his back and helped him lock up the store.

  “I will be seeing you soon?” he asked as I resumed my climb.

  “Maybe,” I lied.

  As I turned the key, I remembered I had left my gun with Priscilla. I glanced at my feet, collected my wits, opened the door. “I’m back!” I called out.

  “You’re home early,” she welcomed me, stepping through from the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes for a kiss. I took her in my arms and obliged. She squinted at me, puzzled, when I let go abruptly.

  “You look very enigmatic,” she remarked. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a lead.” I gazed around the apartment, searching for the gun. “I have to go out again. Can I have my gun back? I might need it.”

  “You think you’ve found the killer?” she asked, a slight tremor to her voice.

  “No, just a lead. I probably won’t need the gun, but if you don’t mind letting me have it for a while…”

  “Of course not. It’s in the kitchen. Wait here and I’ll fetch it.” She trotted off like a lamb. Good enough to eat. She came back moments later and pressed the pistol into my hand.

  “Thanks,” I said, holding it by the barrel.

  “So, where are you—?” she began.

  I slammed the butt of the gun into her face, smashing her nose. She reeled away, stunned. I followed after her and clubbed the back of her head. She fell to the floor, where I pinned her and cuffed her wrists behind her waist. Then I turned her over.