by Barry Reese
Morgan whistled. "I’ve heard of this Mr. Skull guy, Chief, but I figured he was just a story, a kind of urban bogeyman. They say he doesn’t have any face at all – from the neck up, he’s just bones."
"Is that true?" Gray asked, directing the question to Pemberley.
"Yes. Don’t ask me how but it’s the truth. He’s a sadist. He didn’t just want something that would kill, he wanted something horrible."
Most people who met Lazarus Gray thought that he was relatively emotionless but his closest friends knew the truth: Gray felt disgust and remorse just as strongly as they did, perhaps more so. At the moment, Morgan could see in his employer’s eyes that he hated Pemberley with every fiber of his being. Gray raised his free hand and brought it crashing down on the doctor’s head. The blow was enough to knock him out and Gray dropped his hold on him, allowing the villain to fall onto the floor.
"I’ll truss him up," Morgan offered, taking out some extra-strength cord from his pocket. "Should we call Samantha and Eun – tell them to be on the lookout for this Mr. Skull character?"
"Yes. You take of that, if you don’t mind. I’d like to look around this house and make sure that there aren’t any more monstrosities lurking about."
"Did Miya tell you about your past?"
Gray paused, somewhat surprised by the question. But then he knew that his aides were also more than that – they were friends and they were concerned for his wellbeing. "She told me some things but not enough. I know that I was a part of an occult organization with Walther Lunt and that they did some terrible things. I also know that some memories I’d had about an event in Mexico were slightly misleading – which was a good thing. But I still don’t know my name or how much blood might be on my hands. I’d like to think that my participation in the group might have been attributed to some naïveté on my part and that I left their number when I realized what they were up to… but that might not be the case."
"Well, whatever you did in the past, Chief, it doesn’t define you now. You’ve been given a whole new life and you’ve done so much good since coming to Sovereign that I bet it balances the scales against anything you might have done before."
Lazarus smiled and the sight was so rare that it froze Morgan in the act of tying up Pemberley. "Thank you for that, Morgan. We might have some things in common. Both of us have turned over a new leaf."
***
Samantha was no stranger to breaking and entering. It was an odd thing, how proficient she had become at such a thing. Growing up in the midst of wealth and luxury, she had never seemed like the kind of girl likely to become adept at picking locks or shimmying in through windows.
Life was strange like that.
Wallace J. Newton’s office had been near the wharf in a rather seedy-looking two-story building. There were three other nameplates on the door outside the building’s entrance, with one of them offering private massage therapy and the other two offering income tax assistance. In all three cases, Samantha was sure that the legality of the services offered was questionable at best.
Newton had apparently never encountered a piece of paper that he deemed worthy of being thrown away. There were mounds of the stuff all over every available surface and Samantha couldn’t be sure where the desk even was at first, though she soon reasoned that it must be located somewhere near the rolling chair that had been converted into a shelf.
Samantha regarded the mess with a stoicism that was reminiscent of her employer. She knew that delaying it wouldn’t improve the situation any, so she simply dove into the task with gusto. In a surprisingly short amount of time, she’d uncovered a small folder filled with information about a man named Mr. Skull. As her eyes scanned the documents, she learned that the mysterious criminal was actually Garrison Montreux, a Canadian who had moved to Sovereign recently. From the looks of things, Newton had become curious about the man after learning that Doc Pemberley was working for him. Samantha couldn’t help but admire Newton for doing this much digging when he wasn’t being paid for it. It must have taken many hours of work: he’d compiled a list of men who worked for Skull, along with their usual haunts and what hours they were there.
A notepad shoved into the folder was filled with Newton’s musings on the matter: again and again, it seemed, he was wrestling with what to do with the information. Like most people in Sovereign, he knew that going to the police was a risky endeavor since at least some of the cops were likely to be crooks themselves. Samantha’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the words Assistance Unlimited followed by a question mark. The words were circled and in red underneath had been hastily scribbled ‘Yes!’ Apparently, Newton had been planning to turn over all this information to Gray at some point.
She heard heavy footsteps and the muted voices of men in the hallway. Quickly shoving the folder into the compact purse she carried, Samantha crawled under the desk as someone pushed open the door. From her vantage point, she could only see the feet of those who entered but it looked like three men. Two sets of legs were in ratty pants and soiled shoes. The man in the front, however, was wearing shoes so highly polished that Samantha was sure she’d be able to see the man’s face in them, had her position been better. His pants, too, were of the highest quality.
"Search the place, boys," the well-dressed man said. "If that private dick had any information on me, I want it now."
"You got it, boss," one of the others answered. As the two men began rifling through boxes and papers, casually tossing them to the floor when they were done with them, Samantha felt a chill go down her back. So this was Mr. Skull… things were beginning to fall into place. Newton was tracking Pemberley, which led him to Skull, who didn’t appreciate the attention. So Mr. Skull had Newton silenced, which inadvertently accomplished what Newton had wanted all along: to bring Skull to the attention of someone who could stop him.
Mr. Skull sauntered over to the window, peering outside. "When we’re done here, we’re headed over to the reservoir."
One of the men paused long enough to ask, "Uh, what for, boss?"
"We’re going to dump some of the Bone Dust into the city’s water supply. By this time tomorrow, we should have a few hundred, if not a thousand, dead. When the citizens of Sovereign see their husbands, wives, children all suffering before their eyes, they’ll be ready to do anything in exchange for an end to it. I’ll be able to name my price."
Samantha’s eyes went wide. What sort of man would do such a thing? She shuddered to think of the horrors that would ensue. It was one thing to murder a grown man like Wallace Newton – but to disfigure and kill children? She bit her lip to keep from crying out in disgust.
Apparently, the acts under discussion gave even Skull’s men reason to pause. The second man, the one who had asked about the reservoir, cleared his throat. "That’s gonna attract all kinds of heat, boss. I mean, it’s not just gonna be the law after us – I bet we’d be dealing with Doc Daye or Assistance Unlimited!"
"Then let them come!" Mr. Skull bellowed, turning to face his men. Something either in his words or demeanor made both men take a few steps away him and Samantha wrinkled her nose. It smelled like something was burning in the room and was she imagining it or did she hear the crackling of flames? "I’m not afraid of them," Mr. Skull continued, lowering his voice. "If they stick their noses in my business, they’ll get their heads handed to ‘em."
Samantha thought it strange that a French-Canadian should speak with a rough-and-tumble Gangster speech pattern. She slowly reached into her purse, hoping to find one of the small radio communicators that Lazarus had recently given to all members of the group. There were two settings on the device: one that functioned much like a standard walkie-talkie and the other where a silent signal was transmitted to all other devices, alerting them that there was someone in danger. As she grabbed hold of the device, she accidentally bumped her fingers up against a small makeup mirror, which slipped from her purse and fell to the floor. She quickly swiped her hand out to grab hold of it but
it had rolled out from under the desk, bumping against the shoe of Mr. Skull.
Samantha quickly pressed the emergency button and sprang into action. She could hear Mr. Skull muttering something as he bent down to pick up the compact mirror and she knew that whatever he was saying, it wasn’t going to be anything good. She rolled out from under the desk, bumping into the rolling chair and sending papers spilling to the floor. By the time Samantha was on her feet, she had already drawn her pistol and was aiming it directly at the closest of the thugs. Without giving him the chance to surrender, she pulled the trigger and a slug slammed itself into his left shoulder, sending him toppling backwards in shock.
It was when she whirled about, intending to threaten Mr. Skull, that she experienced the shock of her young life. Though she’d seen some strange things in recent weeks, the image of a man with a burning skull for a head had to be the most bizarre of all.
"Put the gun down, doll," Skull said. He gestured for his men to retreat out into the hallway. The one who had been shot in the shoulder glared daggers at Samantha as he backed out. "Whom do you work for? Nobody told me that Newton had a secretary."
Samantha refused to cower, even in the face of such horror. "You’re one sick bastard," she hissed.
"Such language," Mr. Skull chided, taking a step toward her. "I bet your parents would be shocked, Miss Grace. That is your name, isn’t it? Now that I get a better look at you, I’m pretty sure I recognize you from the society pages."
"Can’t say that you have a familiar face," Samantha said, cocking her gun. "I can’t even say you have a face at all. Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot."
The flames danced higher around Skull’s head and he laughed, a rumbling sound that rose up deep in his chest and emerged through his skeletal teeth. "Go ahead and try it." He lunged forward, gripping hold of the desk and tossing it aside. It slammed against the wall, sending papers and pencils flying.
Samantha was true to her word, pulling back on the trigger. The barrel spat out hot metal death, the bullets slamming repeatedly into Mr. Skull’s midsection. He staggered back, grunting with each impact, but when Samantha was out of ammunition, he resumed his approach, backing her up against the wall.
"That wasn’t nice," he whispered, leaning in so close that Samantha feared her hair would be singed from his flames. "Look at me," he demanded. Though she was terrified, she did as he asked, keeping her gaze as steady as possible. "There was a time when dames like you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. But now… now I have girls like you jumping when I snap my fingers."
"It must be because of your rugged good looks," Samantha retorted, sarcasm twisting her words into something ugly.
Skull gripped her around her throat, applying enough pressure that she immediately began struggling to breathe. She raised the gun and slammed the butt of it down against his head, the flames burning her hand in the process. She did it again and again and the villain finally backed away when a crack appeared in his skull. He reached up and lightly touched the affected area, his fingers coming back with splintered bone on their tips. "You little bitch," he hissed. "I’m going to kill you for that."
Samantha’s neck felt like someone had run it through a meat grinder but she could breathe again and that gave her renewed hope. She decided to turn the tables on her foe, rushing toward him and driving a hard kick into his chest. The blow was enough to knock him back and he fell over a stack of papers, landing on his back. She jumped over him and yanked open the door, planning to deal with Skull’s two goons. To her surprise, she saw Eun standing there, the two men unconscious at his feet. He looked up at her and smiled but his grin vanished as Samantha grabbed hold of him and yanked him down the hallway. "Let’s go!" she yelled.
"But what’s going on?" he gasped, struggling to keep up with her. His head jerked around as the door to the office suddenly flew off its hinges and Mr. Skull emerged into the hall. He glared at them, the hollow orbs of his eyes moving from his fallen men to the fleeing members of Assistance Unlimited. "What is that?" Eun wondered aloud.
"Trouble," Samantha replied and Eun had no doubt that she was right about that. The two of them burst out onto the street and were inside one of the company cars within seconds. Samantha slid behind the wheel, starting the engine and slamming her foot down on the accelerator. She cast a quick glance behind them and saw Mr. Skull slowly walking down the building’s front stairs. He and his men watched them go and then headed toward their own vehicle.
"Are they going to come after us?" Eun asked.
"No. They have much worse plans." Samantha smiled at her friend. "Thanks for coming after me."
"You’re welcome. Glad I got there when I did. Your neck looks awful."
"Could have been worse. We need to get the Chief on the horn. That Mr. Skull character is one of the most dangerous we’ve ever faced."
***
Walther Lunt stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The right side of his face was a mangled mess of scar tissue, the result of an acid attack. There were some in The Illuminati who whispered that the acid had done more than simply scar Walther’s face: they intimated that it had unhinged his mind, as well.
Those closest to the German, however, knew the truth: Walther had been quite insane even before that. His desire for power and his willingness to do anything to achieve it were traits that had made him a valuable member of his guild and he’d quickly risen through the ranks. His one mistake had been a costly one, however. It had been his decision to recruit the man who had become Lazarus Gray into the secret society, inadvertently creating a terrible enemy.
Lunt turned away from the mirror and strode into the living room of the apartment he was sharing with Miya. Not long ago, he’d been killed in combat with Gray but Miya had been sent by the Illuminati to revive him. Now given a second chance at life, Lunt was eager to make the most of it. He took a peek into the bedroom where Miya lay under the covers. She was nude but all he could see were her bare shoulders and her lustrous dark hair, as she lay facedown. He felt himself stirring with lust for her but he pulled the door closed and tried to forget about the pleasures her flesh could offer him. Like all women who weren’t being paid to share his bed, she regarded his features with barely disguised disdain and that fact soured his lust, turning it into something violent and ugly.
The apartment’s telephone sat on a small table located near a large couch and two adjoining chairs. Lunt sat down on the couch and lifted the receiver, quickly dialing in the phone number for 6196 Robeson Avenue. He wasn’t sure if anyone would answer the phone or if he’d be connected to the automated answering service that Assistance Unlimited possessed but either way, he planned to leave quite a surprise for Lazarus Gray.
Miya’s plan to slowly seduce Gray was a failure in Lunt’s eyes. It was taking far too long and there was no guarantee of success. After all, The Illuminati had authorized her to sleep with him before in the hopes that it would tie Gray to their will, only to find that he was willing to toss aside their relationship in the name of his sickening morality. Lunt had decided that it was now time to roll the dice and take the offensive. Let Gray know the truth: either he would realize his mistake and come back into the fold or he would have made it clear that Lunt needed to kill him.
To his great astonishment, it was Gray himself who picked up on the other end. In grave tones, Lunt’s former associate said, "You’ve reached Assistance Unlimited. How may I help you?"
"Your name is Richard Winthrop. You were born in San Francisco. Both of your parents died when you were in your early teens but they left behind a trust that enabled you to take care of yourself. You graduated with honors from Yale University. The night of your graduation, agents of The Illuminati, who were aware that you showed a curiosity for things of an occult nature, approached you. You were brought onboard with promises of access to hidden libraries scattered across the globe. Of particular interest to you were spells related to the binding and summoning of elder entities. I think
you found it appealing to believe that man could harness the powers of the ancients.
There were attempts to subvert you to the ways of the Order but you resisted. In particular, you rebelled at the kinds of blood sacrifices that were required for us to maintain our status. You turned against us and became quite the thorn in our sides. In the end, you snuck onboard a boat headed here to Sovereign, intending to stop one of our operatives from stealing a rare tome from the museum. You were discovered not long after the boat docked in the harbor and suffered a concussion. You managed to escape but you passed out on the shore. One of our men went looking for you, disguised as a member of local law enforcement. That’s the man that you killed, immediately after waking up. Our man on the boat apparently thought it best not to let anyone know that you’d escaped. He told us you were dead and that he’d dumped your body overboard. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here in Sovereign."
If Lunt was expecting Gray to react with shock, he was disappointed by the calm tone of voice that Lazarus used in response. "And the coin that I was holding?"
"The image of the man with the lion’s head is our symbol – and the name that was engraved under the picture was the name of our founder. The real Lazarus Gray died centuries ago."
"I see."
Lunt was about to tease his old foe with more information but to his surprise, he heard the click of the line being disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment in disbelief. Had Gray actually hung up on him?
He set the phone back into its cradle and looked over his shoulder at Miya, who was stepping from the bedroom. She took one look at the expression on his face and paused. She had only a sheet wrapped around her lithe form but Lunt seemed unaware of how close to being naked she really was.
"What’s wrong?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.