Emerald Moon

by Rick Murcer

  “Just because you both tossed your cookies? Maybe it was the sight and smell and not a mind thing.”

  “Maybe. Whatever the hell it was, I don’t want any more of it.”

  He took hold of her arm and led her toward the exit. “We’ve got to go. The locals want to sit down and talk, plus they said there are some new developments that we need to be aware of.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Sophie put her hand on his. “Ah . . . did Josh know I was, ya know, sick?”

  “He guessed you didn’t have to pee. I told him it was a morning sickness thing.”

  He watched her eyes grow wide, then a faint smile took the place of her surprise.

  “Funny, Williams, real funny. You’ve been hanging out with Dough Boy too long.”

  He grinned. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

  As they reached the front doors, he saw Josh, Alex, and Max talking with a stout man and Chloe. He could see the worry lines on her face, but he also noticed everything else about her—more skipped heartbeats, followed by more guilt. Good to know those two enemies wouldn’t leave him lonely. Chloe had positive effects on him, no doubt about that, but it also occurred to him that he was unsettled, uneasy, and almost angry. That tiny, pissy voice in the back of his mind was whispering to him, reminding him that the time was fast approaching to deal with all of the situations that had been plaguing him since Louise died, and maybe a little before that.

  I will. I’ll have to, or eat the barrel of my gun. Shaking his head, Manny reached deep. He’d do business with everything, like it or not, when the time and place came, but this wasn’t either. Argyle was in Galway, Ireland, and that meant everything else was secondary; it had to be. All of their lives depended on his focus.

  Sophie and he exited through the thick doors and joined the group. They were promptly introduced to Sergeant Detective Clark.

  “Good to meet, you detective. Where’s Detective Shannon?” he asked as he reached for the round cop’s hand.

  “He’ll be reporting in soon, and he has instructions to meet us at Gardaí HQ. He’s been up all night, but he’ll be there.” Clark knitted his brow together. “I’ve heard a bit about you and what you know about this animal. That can only help us speed up this investigation, and as you know, time is precious.”

  “We’re looking forward to offering what we can, Detective. It’s time to end this thing, once and for all.”

  Clark nodded, but stayed silent.

  Manny moved next to Chloe. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m hanging in there. At least Mum seems to be . . . be with us. Argyle obviously has a plan for her and that gives me hope for now. And even though Meav is missing, that could mean anything . . .”

  He wanted to do more than ask her questions. Her quick, almost desperate glance, said she wanted more than questions. Louise’s face popped into his mind, and the moment faded—again. Clark pulled his pipe out of his shirt pocket, stuck it between his teeth, and motioned to the three Ford Cortina squad cars.“Let’s get our arses in gear. I was just notified that Interpol is going to send two agents to assist, plus we’ve brought in every off-duty copper we have to help with this one.”

  “We’re going to need them,” said Sophie.

  “We will, but we’ve got to give them something to go on,” answered Clark.

  They piled into the three squad cars, Manny and Josh Corner in one with Detective Clark taking the wheel, Sophie and Chloe in the second, and Max and Alex in the third, and began the trip to Gardaí headquarters.

  Manny eyed the three-foot stone wall marking the exit to the airport as Clark punched the accelerator, veering to the left side of the road (bringing on a sense of déjà vu and St. John, where they drove on the left) to finish the six-mile trek into Galway and a rendezvous with more information, more cops, and maybe more opinions on how to deal with Argyle than Manny wanted to think about.

  He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the rolling, green countryside of Western Ireland. Beautiful on most days certainly, but this morning, it scarcely registered. It seemed that in the last fifteen months, he had spent far too many precious minutes and hours in meetings discussing this bag of shit. What would Argyle do next? Where would he go? Who would he terrorize? What totally brutal act had he committed in an effort to force a little more humanity from Manny’s soul? Not to mention, ruin the lives of the family members closest to the victims. And for what? All in the name of his messed-up game? Was Argyle’s sole purpose to foster sleepless nights and constant reminders of his rampage against Lansing law enforcement—and the rest of humanity?

  Those nights when his insomnia left his bedroom usually led to open-ended invitations to gruesome nightmares. The nightmares always concluded with a loved one hung on a cross in some Godforsaken field, looking like the most neglected of scarecrows. Eyes lifeless and pleading at the same time. Or maybe he’d return to the night Louise was killed, second-guessing for the millionth time on what he could have done differently and always ending with her haunting statement asking—, no, ordering—that Jen and he take care of each other.

  The anger was returning, and this time he embraced it. It felt good.

  No more. This was it. It had to be. He wasn’t going to put up with any more. No more bodies.

  It was time to stop Argyle or die trying.

  That old, trusted companion—his gut feeling—told him he was right: One of them was going to die. The thing was, Manny felt sure he’d be the one who wouldn’t leave Ireland alive.

  Chapter-56

  The gentle rocking from the waves pulsing through Galway Bay made the small sailboat feel more like a rocking chair than a sea vessel. Dr. Argyle decided he liked it, and in his own way, enjoyed it. Not like the joy he was going to experience in the next eight hours or so, but it would do for now. He took one last look at Haley Rose, lying motionless on the tiny bed in the lower rear section of the boat. He navigated the narrow, steep steps to the top deck and leaned against the entrance.

  The day had been eventful, but had gone as planned. He had used chloroform to get Haley Rose out of the basement of the ancient building on Shop Street and got her into the rental with no notice, a trick to be sure. It didn’t hurt that it had been dark.

  She wasn’t heavy, and he’d moved quickly, his feet feeling every imperfection of the stone streets that ran rampant in the Centre District. He’d even taken the time to be gentle with her, something that wasn’t necessary in the grand scheme of his ultimate goal, but he’d promised himself—and her—that she’d feel little or no pain when the time came, and it was beneath him to lie to anyone. He didn’t have to. What he did and who he was stretched far beyond what normal people could grasp. Deception was for those who lived in fear. Fear. It was just a word to him, wasn’t it? Jenkins had introduced him to that concept too, but Argyle had perfected it. Who could deny that?

  The early morning sun nudged away from the white clouds and gave the vivid red, yellow, and blue pastels of the Marina-front condos a different glow. One that reminded him of some of the Caribbean stops he’d enjoyed, on and off the Ocean Duchess, those months ago when this had begun. There had been little deviation from his plan up to now. Williams had screwed up a detail or two, but ultimately, he’d had his way in every circumstance. And unless he missed his guess as a psychologist and, perhaps more importantly, a foe, even a man like Sergeant Detective Manfred Robert Williams had limits to his patience and self-control.

  He strode to the large, brass steering wheel, putting his hands on each side. In fact, he’d bet the Lansing detective’s anger was growing, perhaps near the edge of full-blown rage. That would be even better for him because that would make Williams more prone to mistakes and quick judgments. Neither was something the detective could afford, not that it really mattered. Williams was as good as dead anyway.

  The subtle alarm sang from his wristwatch, reminding him that it was time. Argyle’s thoughts shifted to the room where Haley Rose had been held. But it was no
longer a basement in a ratty old Irish building. Hardly. It now served as a temporary tomb for Detective Shannon and whoever else had decided to stay.

  Once the potassium cyanide was released, it would be simply a matter of time. Amazing what you can learn online these days, and even more incredible, where you could buy seemingly innocent ingredients to help one put that knowledge to use. He was sure that the detective never thought of the gas surprise. They had probably considered some type of explosive, but they weren’t smart enough to figure out the other possibilities. He’d even given them a sporting chance by leaving the chemical formula for the gas in the jumbled set of letters and symbols. They’d expected his MO to stay the same.

  Being wrong could kill you.

  Reaching for the bulbous red button that would start the engine of the rented boat, he pressed it and the Hemi roared to life, the odor of diesel quickly reaching his nostrils. He pulled away from the dock and guided the vessel through the marina’s waterway and eventually out to the open waters of Galway Bay. The final destination was firmly locked into the boat’s sophisticated GPS, not that he really needed it, but it never hurt to make sure this final encounter would be a perfect blend of surprise and bedlam. He knew the Feds and Williams had landed in Galway—his little stool pigeon had told him so—and it wouldn’t be long before they would figure out the obvious method he’d used to escape Galway, toting a 130-pound woman. Obvious, at least, to Williams.

  “Come for me, my fine detective, come for me, and we’ll dance the dance of warriors,” he whispered.

  Chapter-57

  Detective Clark pulled in front of the gray, three-story building neatly trimmed in white that served as Galway Gardaí’s headquarters and slammed the small cruiser into park. It was difficult for Manny not to imagine Sophie behind the wheel of one of these tiny powerhouses—and how much faster they might’ve gotten here.

  If circumstances were different, he would have enjoyed the trip through downtown Galway. It had a charm seldom seen in America. The States simply weren’t old enough. The narrow streets were paved with cobblestone and some of the buildings, relics by most standards, held an allure matched only by their history. He even liked the bouncing trip over O’Brien’s Bridge. But all of what Galway could offer faded with the shadow that Argyle had successfully cast, again. This shit was getting old.

  They’d traveled the distance from the airport mostly in silence, preoccupied with the upcoming meeting for one thing. But what Argyle was up to, and where, was foremost on all of their minds. In Manny’s case, the uneasiness and foreboding kept him silent.

  He grasped the handle of the cruiser, flipped open the door, and folded out of the sedan. Manny watched the other two vehicles empty as the others began to gather. It seemed like in stressful times like this, there was a biological magnet that drew people to physical proximity of one another. Safety in numbers? Instinct to survive? Or maybe something more noble than that—a built-in desire to protect each other? Wasn’t that a cop’s motto anyway?

  Deep down, in this setting, in this far-away country, he knew that some or all of his friends were going to die, including him. Argyle held all of the cards, had manipulated all of the circumstances to his uttermost advantage. The Good Doctor was dangerous in the most harmless of situations, but this Irish stage, created to his liking, made him seem invincible.

  The group huddled closer, waiting for Detective Clark to get off his cell.

  Manny ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to die—most people didn’t—but the thought of losing someone close to him again would drive him mad, and he knew he couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t. This eclectic group had become more than friends, some of them were much more, and he wouldn’t allow any of them to leave this world by Argyle’s hand unless he went through Manny first. That’s what Guardians of the Universe did.

  Just as Detective Clark flipped his phone shut, as if by some divine cue, the Irish weather turned from partly sunny to a cloud-filled sky that threatened to unleash cold rain at any second. Clark motioned for them to follow him, his face ever stoic, not showing the emotion Manny somehow knew the call had invoked.

  “What is it, Detective?”

  “You Americans are a curious lot, aren’t you? I’ll explain inside, but you won’t be meeting Detective Shannon, at least not on this side of the Great Divide, if you believe in that sort of thing. Argyle has made sure of that.”

  Chapter-58

  “Shut the damned door now!” ordered Superintendent Bennett, pointing at the constable standing near the meeting room where Interpol, Gardaí, and American Feds had been drawn together because of one crazy-assed psychopath. Right up Argyle’s alley. The doctor loved being the center of attention, the drama queen that was impossible to ignore. Manny hated him a little more, if that was possible.

  Arthur Bennett straightened his coat sleeve, pushed his black-rimmed glasses toward his dark eyes, and then stood. “I’ll cut to the chase and let Detective Clark conduct the rest of this meeting. You’ll be exchanging ideas, theories, and ways to understand what Fredrick Argyle will do next. Frankly, I’ve been out of this type of thing for a time, but I still know this. The world will be a better place if you shoot this man, slit his throat, and then feed him to the fish in the Corrib River.”

  After a brief pause, the superintendent scoped the room, never blinking, stopping at Manny. “Do you have any issues with that, Detective?”

  “No Sir. Not anymore. Not regarding this son of a bitch. I think everyone deserves a trial, you know the whole innocent until proven guilty pretense and, to most, it still applies. But I’d be a liar if I told you I believed the same regarding him. He’s preyed on others too long. There’s nothing innocent about him.”

  Bennett nodded and continued around the room. “He has the audacity to come to my island and murder like no one has in recent memory. That will not be tolerated. He’s killed seven members of my department, including one of our very best, and almost eight. If Sergeant Detective Steve Shannon hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, Kelly Gold would have suffered the same fate as the others.” Bennett seemed to stare into nothing for a moment—the way people do when they’ve lost something that will never be recovered. “Shannon died a he . . . hero, but he’s dead nevertheless, isn’t he?”

  The superintendent’s voice had the proper professional cadence, but there was more. Manny knew instantly that Bennett had more than a working affinity for Shannon. He regretted not getting an opportunity to meet Steve Shannon—another reason to end Argyle, if he got the chance.

  After he’d adjusted his red bowtie, Bennett leaned over the table and spoke softly, but with strong conviction and emotion. He caused Manny to sit straighter.

  “I don’t care about that entire jurisdictional sheep shit. You’re all cops, work together, and end this bastard.”

  Without another blink, Bennett pushed the leather chair to his left, motioned for the two men from Interpol to follow him, which they did without hesitation, and walked through the door, head down, disappearing along the lighted hallway.

  Clark rose from his chair, steadied himself as his plump body leaned too far to the left.

  “I trust we’ll honor the superintendent’s wishes and be good cops . . . and as far as ending Argyle, remember what separates us from animals like him.” Clark moved his neck and Manny heard bones crack—nothing like a little stress to mess with the body.

  “Why are the Interpol agents not staying?” he asked.

  “The superintendent thinks they’d be more help doing what they do: sorting through information. I agreed. Besides, their training in this type of thing is limited. They might just get in the way.”

  “You two know best, but we could use all the help we can get,” said Josh.

  “Duly noted. But let’s move forward,” answered Clark in the matter-of-fact persona that stereotyped British police. Manny thought it well-earned. Another way to deal with the stress was to go to the facts, and that’s where Cla
rk ran.

  “We’ve followed all of the procedural regulations concerning roadblocks, airport searches, door-to-door searches, bus stations, taxi companies, and car-rental centers. We’re showing Argyle’s picture to every possible merchant, student, prostitute, bum, and whoever else we can think of.”

  “That may not help much,” said Manny. “He’s an expert at disguising himself, but you have to try.”

  “Try we will. But let’s get this profiling session done so we can get that information out there. Questions first?”

  Josh looked at Manny and motioned for him to begin.

  “Firstly, let me say how sorry I am regarding your friends. Those of us from the States have all suffered the same kind of thing from this sick troll’s hand. We know the feeling all too well.”

  Clark nodded.

  “How did Shannon and the others die?” asked Manny, hating to ask the question.

  “According to Detective Gold, it was probably cyanide gas released when Shannon opened the top of a DVD player. She said Argyle had written a note that said ‘play me,’ but it was a trap.”

  Manny frowned. “Damn him. That’s not what he does. He’s changing his methods. He didn’t make the detective’s murder up-close, intimate, like his profile—hell, like his compulsion—practically mandates. It must have been almost more than Argyle could bear to not be nearby when your people died.”

  “Who said he wasn’t nearby or at least watching?” asked Sophie. “Remember that little trick he pulled with the camera at your house?”

  “I do, and I guess it would have been possible, but I’m not seeing it. He wanted to watch the look on my face, my pain. He had to know more than one person would die with this stunt, taking away that sense of being a god he gets when he watches someone check out up close.”

  “You mean he wouldn’t have had the control to focus on one person?” said Josh.