Demons are Forever

by Kim Baldwin; Xenia Alexiou

  “You just can’t catch a break, huh?” Jack asked.

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like I haven’t seen a beautiful naked woman before.”

  “I’m sure. Need a tissue before your drool hits the control panel?”

  Heather turned back around, finally, but not before she had put on a blouse. The color nearly matched her underwear and went well with the light-charcoal skirt and blazer that followed.

  “You can start breathing again. She’s dressed,” Jack said. “Jeez, you’d think with all the action you get you’d be used to some skin.”

  “Stop talking and go back to Landor.”

  Jack sighed and opened the novel.

  Heather disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of minutes to put on her makeup, then went to the kitchen to make coffee. She carried her mug back into the bedroom and sipped from it while she dried her hair in front of the big mirror over the dresser. She even combed her fingers through her hair in a slow, sexy way. Once again, Chase regretted never having happened upon her through an agency. God, the things I would have done to that woman.

  After she finished, Heather carried her mug to the kitchen sink. She had her purse in hand and was about to put her coat on when the phone rang.

  Chase and Jack stared at the monitor as Chase cranked up the audio.

  “Good morning. Getting ready to leave?” a male voice asked.

  “Hi, handsome. And yes.”

  “Will I see you tonight?”

  “How badly do you want to?” Heather laughed.

  “Bad,” the man said. “I was wondering if you have something special for me?”

  Heather sighed. “Not yet. I’m still waiting.”

  “Too bad.”

  “How about one of your other favorites?” Heather asked.

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”

  “Be good.”

  “Not like I have a choice,” he replied.

  “Later, then.”

  “Later.”

  Heather disconnected, took another quick sip of coffee, and grabbed her coat.

  “It wasn’t Rózsa,” Jack said.

  “Maybe the guy who made the transaction?” Chase mused.

  “Maybe. Looks like we’ll be on her heels all day.”

  “Get ready to move,” Chase said. “She’s coming out.”

  Jack rolled the comic book up and put it in her back pocket. “I’ll keep you posted.” She got out and tailed Heather as she walked toward the subway.

  Chase waited until they were out of sight before she left to pick up the rental. Jack phoned to say they were headed to the Garment District as expected, so Chase parked the vehicle in the same nearby lot and met Jack in the restaurant across from Heather’s building. They ate a leisurely breakfast and sat back to begin the long wait, Chase focused on the front entrance and Jack became engrossed in Landor the Demon.

  Twenty minutes before Heather was due to leave work, Jack took up her position in the rear corner of the building while Chase remained watching the front, in case Heather decided to alter her routine because of the mysterious phone call.

  “Got her,” Jack informed Chase by cell just a few minutes past five. “She’s coming your way.”

  “Roger that.” Chase picked Heather up a minute later when she rounded the corner and passed by across the street. Jack followed a half-block behind, careful not to lose her amid the crush of rush-hour pedestrians.

  Chase headed back to the rental. Traffic was gridlocked, and it didn’t look like she’d be able to get out of the area any time soon. As she sat in a long line waiting to exit the lot, Jack called with an update. “She’s headed into the subway at Times Square. Where are you?”

  “Stuck in traffic at the lot. Keep on her. Update me when you can.” She gripped the wheel in frustration. Jack was headed into a dead zone for cell phones, and Chase had no idea in which direction they were headed. To proceed without further information could just put more distance between them. She pulled off to the side to wait and checked her watch. By the time Jack reported in again, more than a half hour later, Chase had uncharacteristically chewed off half her stubby fingernails.

  “Exiting at the East 241st Street station in the Bronx.” Jack paused and Chase heard the click of a lighter, followed by a long exhale. “She’s on foot, headed east on Sagamore Street.”

  Chase pulled out of the lot and headed north. Traffic had only marginally improved—it would still take her forty minutes or better to travel the fourteen or so miles. “Headed your way.”

  Jack reported in again when Chase was about halfway to the Bronx. “She just went into the Saint Barnabas Acute Care Center.”

  “Visiting her sick brother?” Chase asked as she punched in the location on her GPS.

  “That’s my guess. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Should be there in fifteen or so,” Chase said, and disconnected. She thought back to Heather’s telephone exchange. The man had asked if she had something special for him, and Heather had replied, Not yet. I’m still waiting. Then she’d offered to get him one of his other favorites. He was a nut about graphic novels, Landor the Demon in particular. Were they referring to her promise to autograph a copy of her next installment for him? It seemed a reasonable possibility. Heather had clearly sounded disappointed. Surely because her brother was looking forward to it, right?

  Or could it possibly be that Heather was disappointed just because she wanted to see Chase again?

  Chapter Thirteen

  eather took a deep breath to steel herself before she opened the door to her brother’s room. She never knew what to expect on her visits. Some days, Adam looked pretty good, all things considered. And he’d sounded strong and like his old self that morning on the phone. But too often in recent weeks she’d arrive to find him in the midst of another crisis: weak from vomiting, or with his hands, feet, and face so swollen she barely recognized him. And increasingly, she’d arrive to find him numbly incoherent because of the drugs he was taking. However he appeared, she had to remain upbeat and positive. She forced herself to smile and went inside.

  Today was a good day. Adam was sitting up in bed watching television. His color was normal, and he was devoid of the IVs that seemed a semi-permanent fixture in the room. He grinned when he saw her and flicked off the set. “Hey, H.”

  She kissed him and pulled up a chair. “Hey, Bro. You’re looking great.”

  “Ate a big lunch,” he reported. “And they actually agreed to let me order pizza tonight. Delivery guy will be here in a little.” Adam had lost a third of his body weight in the last year because he so often had trouble keeping food down. Any time he had an appetite was welcome news.

  “Extra cheese?”

  “Of course. Now, fill me in. What’s happening in the outside world? How did you meet my favorite author?”

  Brett. Heather couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d told her brother very little, except that she’d run into the woman who created Landor the Demon, and she’d promised to give her an autographed copy of the next issue. “I met her at a club when I was out with a couple of girls from work.” She told him most everything about that night, except how attracted she was to Brett and how she couldn’t stop thinking about her. But her brother knew her well and evidently sensed there was more to the story than she was letting on.

  “Why don’t you give her a call?” Adam asked.

  “First of all, I don’t have her number, and second, I don’t want to push. How desperate is that?”

  “Desperate? You sound like I asked you to call her for a date.”

  Heather’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah, well—”

  “So she did ask you out.”

  “No, she offered a signed copy.”

  Adam picked up the last issue of Landor the Demon from his bedside table. She knew he’d read it many times, but it was still in pristine condition, kept in a plastic sleeve. “Funny how I assumed the author was a dude.”

 
; “That’s pretty sexist.”

  “Come on, H, you know better. It’s just that whenever I Googled the name Cooland, nothing showed up except for his…her works and an article about how the author never does public appearances or signings. No Web site, no pics, nothing. So I assumed it was some huge, pimpled-ass guy.”

  “Not the case. She’s a very attractive woman.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Do you wish she’d asked you on a date?”

  “What’s up with all these questions about my love life?”

  “It’s just that…well, you never seem to go out with anyone. Last time you mentioned a girl was what, two or three years ago? I don’t know, H. Can’t be normal for an okay-looking woman to go without…you know.”

  “Sex?” If only Adam knew the only thing not missing from her life was sex. The wrong kind of sex—meaningless encounters with men, purely a means to support her brother’s needs. And working for Direct Connect had crushed her need to get close to another woman. Not only because she feared they would find out about her secret life, but also because she’d have to eventually explain and deal with the consequences. Sex was once an exciting way to express emotions, but it had turned into an obligation, a duty that left her feeling drained and often disappointed in herself.

  Heather seriously doubted she could ever get intimate with anyone again and not feel as though they could see right through her. How could they resist thinking of her without attaching a label that fit what she did? Prostitute. Hooker. Whore. What she did wasn’t who she was, but how could anyone ever believe that or want to stick around long enough to find out the truth? “I’m too tired to even think about sex, Adam.”

  “But I’m not just talking about sex. It’s like you don’t hang out with anyone but me. Don’t get me wrong. I love you and your company, but ever since Dad died, you’ve deprived yourself of a life. I know I’m to blame for the most part—”

  “Stop that. I love you and I want to take care of you.”

  “I know, H. But you need to take care of yourself, too. Putting your life on hold is only making me feel like a complete loser. It’s not what I want and it’s not what you deserve. I know you need more. Unless, of course, you’ve decided to join some kind of freakish cult.”

  “I just don’t have—”

  “Oh, my God,” Adam said with feigned shock. “You have. You’ve gone all—”

  Heather laughed. “Cut it out. It’s simply a matter of not enough time. I want a career and that has priority right now.”

  “Since when does one exclude the other? I’m not saying you need to get married or look into artificial insemination. I’m just talking about a date.”

  “And this has nothing to do with getting an autographed Landor the Demon?”

  “Maybe a little.” He smiled. “But you said yourself, she’s a knockout.”

  “And very charming. And smart. And funny.”

  “And give me a break.” Adam rolled his eyes. “Go out with her already.”

  “She hasn’t called,” Heather said.

  “She will.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Who wouldn’t? You’re a catch, and not just because you’re my sister.”

  “I’m flattered, your Greatness.”

  “You should be. Now where the hell is the delivery dude? It’s been twenty—”

  Someone knocked on Adam’s door. Heather smiled and got out her wallet. “Looks like he heard you, your Highness.”

  * * *

  Greenwich Village, N.Y.

  Next day, November 20, 5:30 p.m.

  Chase crept along in bumper-to-bumper traffic, her frustration growing with each yard of progress. The drive between Heather’s home and workplace had become a metaphor for their mission. They were getting nowhere fast in their effort to track down Heather’s mysterious john or determine whether she was involved in the transfer of money to Andor Rózsa.

  Jack was even more on edge. She was chain-smoking at every opportunity—outside the acute-care facility last night, during the routine surveillance at Heather’s apartment afterward, and again this morning. And while they’d sat all day at the restaurant again watching Heather’s building, Jack had stepped outside for a cigarette so many times she’d lost count.

  Her cell rang as she waited at a red light a block from their hotel.

  “Same old, same old,” Jack reported. “She’s changed into her sweats and T-shirt and poured herself a glass of milk.”

  “I’m about to drop off the car. I’ll see you in five.”

  When she joined Jack in the surveillance van, Heather once again reclined on her couch watching the news. Chase settled back for another night of non-productive waiting, but almost immediately, Heather’s phone rang. She and Jack leaned forward at the same time, both staring at the monitor. Because the call came on Heather’s cell and not her landline, they could hear only her side of the conversation.

  “I’m here, Margaret,” Heather said after checking the caller ID. She listened for a few seconds. “That’s…flattering, I guess. But I don’t think I can do four nights a week. Did he say why the sudden increase? Dario’s never wanted me more than once or twice at most.” Another silence as she listened. “Just talking?” Heather looked confused. “Did he say what he wanted to talk about?” More listening. Then, “I guess I can’t argue with that. It is a lot of money. Okay, I’m in. When’s the first appointment?” She listened some more and frowned. “All right. I’ll be there.” She got up off the couch and went to get a pen and notepad from her desk. “Read me off the full schedule, will you?” As they watched, Heather jotted down several things on the notepad, but the camera was too far and at the wrong angle for them to see what she was writing. “Got it. Thanks, Margaret.” After Heather disconnected, she stuck the notepad in a desk drawer.

  “We need to get her out of the house,” Jack said.

  “I know,” Chase replied.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? You have her number.”

  “I am aware of that,” Chase replied. If she asked Heather out, Jack would be free to get Heather’s schedule for Dario. They’d been on the case for days and this was their first break. They needed to get a look at this guy and approach him one way or another.

  But Chase didn’t know how comfortable she felt about seeing Heather again. Not because of what she did, but because Heather made her uneasy and she couldn’t understand why. Chase had been with plenty of call girls, and being around one should be second nature by now, but Heather made her feel exposed. Something in her eyes, something Chase couldn’t put her finger on, made her look too untainted and untouched.

  Heather was exactly the kind of woman Chase had avoided for years. The last time she’d allowed herself to become involved with one, it had cost the woman her life.

  Chase had been working deep cover at the time, within an Italian mob family led by Dom Marco Stellari. Stellari himself was not her target; she was after an elusive Russian arms dealer Stellari did business with. Interpol had been unable to locate the man and had asked the EOO to find him and make him disappear.

  Even with Chase’s considerable skills, it took seven months to earn Stellari’s trust, but once she did, she was accepted as part of the family. She practically lived at the dom’s New York penthouse, waiting for her opportunity as more months passed. But the Russian arms dealer kept to the shadows, using emissaries in most of his business dealings, so nailing down his location was difficult.

  What she hadn’t counted on was Regina, the dom’s daughter. She was seven years younger than Chase and notoriously straight, but so sweet and bewitchingly beautiful Chase had trouble keeping her mind on her mission. As they spent more and more time around each other, the chemistry between them built, until Regina confessed she wanted them to live out the fantasies she’d been having about her.

  Chase did her best to stay away, virtually ignoring the girl for weeks. But Regina persisted, and eventually she succumbed to her flirtatious advances and th
ey wound up in bed. Though she’d dated boys, Regina was still a virgin and, like many virgins, fell for the first person she had sex with. Chase fought her feelings even after they slept together but eventually got too tired of fighting. She allowed herself to feel, and fall, and soon they were secretly inseparable. Their romance consisted of surreptitious rendezvous and stolen moments, until one day, Regina had told her she wanted them to run away together. “Just leave and live.”

  She was torn in the beginning, but as more weeks passed and her feelings grew, Chase began to tell herself that maybe it was possible. She could take Regina away from all the corruption and danger surrounding her father and give her the life she deserved. After long thought, she told Regina that after she completed an important job for the dom, they’d disappear together.

  Not long afterward, the Russian arms dealer finally agreed to a face-to-face sit-down with the dom. Chase, as his right hand, would also be there. She contacted Montgomery Pierce to inform him the meeting was imminent and that she’d call back when she knew the time and location. Other EOO ops would move in to take care of the arms dealer so the Italian mob would never know she was involved.

  On paper, their plan was a good one. But no one anticipated the lengths the Russian would take to protect himself. He gave them only ninety minutes’ advance notice of the time and meeting place, and the abandoned warehouse was in Brooklyn, which gave them little time before they had to leave. Chase had no opportunity to pass the info on to the EOO.

  Still, she was optimistic it was the break they’d been waiting for. Maybe she’d be able to put a tracker on the arms dealer. The guy was so elusive, getting to see his face at all was an achievement.

  The Russian, a shrimp of a man, was already at the warehouse when they arrived. He had two men with him and five other associates positioned strategically throughout the warehouse, which was filled with rusted machinery and steel drums. The dom had brought an equal number. The sit-down started out fine, with the Russian and Italian mob boss facing each other across a cheap wooden table. Then all hell broke loose when federal agents burst in with guns blazing.