Precipice

by J. Robert Kinney

  “General Michael Krieger. Nice to meet you.”

  “We were told you have some information for us.”

  “Right. I know a fair amount about your most recent victim, Braxton. He and I were…doing business together.”

  Dominic and Shannon shared another quizzical look. “So, what do you have for us?”

  “Well, for starters…I know why he was killed.” Krieger paused. He sighed before continuing, “He was held up late at the office that night with paperwork, so he left the museum later than they were expecting. That’s why they crossed paths in the parking lot. He wasn’t supposed to ever see their faces. But once they knew he could recognize them….”

  “Who is this ‘they’ you’re referring to?”

  “As far as I can tell, just hired thugs. Never figured out who hired them though. I have a couple hunches, but nothing concrete.”

  Shannon entered the conversation for the first time, “Nothing personal, but while it’s nice to know, that isn’t all that useful. We need practical intel. Our boss thought you’d be helpful.”

  “Well, I do some freelance work that might come in handy.”

  “Freelance doing what?” she cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s hard to explain...” he began slowly. “Let’s just say…I’m good at finding things…whether it’s the location of someone or information.”

  Dominic and Shannon exchanged a doubtful glance. Something about this man felt off. Krieger’s appearance had put Sloan in unusually high spirits, but that could be sleep deprivation wreaking havoc. They’d need to keep a close eye on Krieger.

  “Well…” Dominic’s gut churned, but this wasn’t his call. Sloan’s decision was already made. Besides, maybe this man would come in useful after all. “It’s nice to have you on board.” Krieger nodded in response

  “There’s more, too.” Sloan grabbed a few papers from his desk and handed them to Dominic. “The behavioral analysis guys worked up a profile based on that poem.”

  “Oh yeah? Let’s see what we’ve got…” He began to read. “Male, 20s to 30s. Highly intelligent, well-read. Obsessed with control. He’s testing us with an intellectual challenge, but probably doesn’t expect us to actually best him. Reaching out to law enforcement or the media shows a desire for fame, or rather infamy. Going head to head with federal agents and winning would feed his feeling of invincibility.”

  “What about the battles and soldiers? Is he planning a war?” Shannon asked.

  “Ummm…” he scanned the page. “The quote references a few things. He sees himself coming out of the depths. It’s a common psychological concept. He sees himself as separate from the general domestic population, which probably means he’s foreign. He claims to be pitting brothers against one another, a phenomenon that famously happened in the American Civil War where families were sometimes split and fought on opposite sides. Indicates he likely came from a broken family himself…probably an abusive one as well. He feels hurt by not having that traditional upbringing and sees himself as getting revenge on his family for that, as well as the society that allowed it to happen. The antichrist reference suggests a probable religious background or upbringing, but it also means he’s rejected its teaching and embraced his role as the villain.” Dominic scanned the rest of the document, but it was just more of the same.

  “Make sure everyone has a copy of this,” Sloan ordered before dismissing them.

  The briefing complete, Dominic and Shannon turned and headed into the hall, leaving Krieger and their boss to hash out the details for payment and rules and regulations. Over the next couple hours, they catalogued the particulars of Krieger’s knowledge, cleared him to be read into the case details, and briefed him on his role in the next steps of the investigation.

  Chapter 20

  “Do you think we can trust him?” Shannon wondered aloud.

  Their intel on this operation would rely heavily on Krieger’s information. He’d claimed to recognize a man in the museum security video, a conman named Victor Ramirez, from a prior job.

  Through some rather disreputable connections, Krieger tracked Ramirez to the intersection of Stewart and Pine, a neighborhood he was reputed to frequent. The clubs in this area were well known among the local law enforcement for their clientele, the freaks of society, but it was rare for SISA to find itself in that part of town.

  Krieger volunteered to do the grunt work of searching the clubs, so the partners sat outside in their parked car as lookouts and backup. Another car patrolled the vicinity as well, but hid out of sight at the moment. No need to scare off their man before they got to him.

  “Not particularly. He seems suspect to me, but we don’t really have a choice,” Dominic grunted. “He’s our best shot right now.”

  “What if he’s been leading us on a wild goose chase?”

  It was a good question. They’d watched their man go from establishment to establishment, finding nothing. Krieger was working on the third of four nightclubs already and he’d been in this one for nearly twenty minutes. Still no suspect. “There’s only one spot left, so we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Just then, the police radio crackled to life. It was Krieger. “He’s not here either. I’m off to the last one. You fellas…er…or lady…want to take this one for me?” He chuckled. This particular club was left until last for a reason. It was one of the more…interesting spots in town. Dubbed The Second Circle after Dante’s excursion through the depths of Hell, it catered to a disturbing crowd dabbling in vampirism and other dark subcultures.

  Dominic depressed the button on the radio handset. “No way, man. You got this.” He chuckled before releasing the button and replacing the device in its dashboard holster.

  A few seconds of silence passed before Shannon interjected, “What’s so bad about that club? Aren’t they all seedy?”

  Dominic pursed his lips. “I’ve only been inside once. You know the story of Dante’s Inferno and his Seven Circles of Hell?”

  “Only the CliffsNotes version.” Shannon shook her head. “My teacher assigned it in high school English, senior year, but I never actually read it.”

  “Well, basically each circle is reserved for a different sin. Those overcome with gluttony, for instance were condemned to the Third Circle.”

  “Alright,” she nodded in understanding. “So what’s the Second Circle?”

  “Lust.” Dominic’s voice sounded hollow and empty as he attempted to describe it. “But rather lust in the traditional sense, which encompasses more than carnal desire. It’s an overpowering desire for anything profane. Or unholy.

  “The Second Circle is a nice place to have bad habits in. The nightclub and bar caters to primal desires of the nastiest kinds. Vampire wannabes, druggies, anything to do with black magic and satanic rituals, they dabble in it all.” He shuddered again before flashing a smile. “And that’s why we sent in the General.”

  Shannon sat without speaking, listening to Dominic’s description. It seemed only yesterday this man beside her was a complete stranger, an assigned partner but someone she had no interest in getting to know. She took this job with the intention of staying unemotional and unattached, no connections. But he was growing on her.

  It had been a long time since she experienced that sensation, or at least it seemed so. It was only five years ago that she lost Brendan. She had since dissociated herself from those memories, the lone way she could deal with her loss, yet retain some measure of sanity.

  Despite her best efforts, though, she remembered that day as if it were yesterday. She saw it as if watching a film, as though she had not played a starring role. This particular movie, however, was her driving and motivating force. Ever since then, she lived according to a simple code, a quote stolen from Mary, Queen of Scots.

  “No more tears now; I will think about revenge.”

  Hearing that quote rattle around her head once more plunged her into the haunting memory.

  “Shanno
n!”

  She had known Danielle since they were toddlers playing together in the sandbox at preschool. Other than a few stupid fights in high school over that super-cute foreign exchange student from South Africa, they’d been the best of friends their entire lives. “Listen, I know it’s only 24 hours until the wedding, but is there anything you can do about these bridesmaid dresses? I look awful in this color!”

  A twinkle in her eye told Shannon that Dani was only joking, but she knew her best friend well enough to know it held a thread of truth. Tonight was Shannon’s final night as a single lady, so she spent the evening with her bridesmaids and a few other friends, drinking, dancing and partying. Just before three in the morning, they’d finally returned to the hotel suite they shared. Shannon, Dani and three other bridesmaids decided to try on their dresses one last time so they could make any last minute adjustments.

  “Are you really trying to cause me stress the night before my wedding? What an awful friend!” Shannon put on her best pouting face, though she was too excited to hold it for long. After a few seconds of mock frustration, she countered, “Besides, I ordered them specially designed to look hideous.”

  Dani planted her hands on her hips, arms akimbo, and threw back her long hair. “And why is that?”

  “So the bride looks better in comparison.” Shannon winked.

  “Well…we don’t want to take anything away from you on your special day.” Dani faced the mirror, giving her appearance a final once-over. “I guess I can tolerate looking hideous for one night, just for you…but the next time you get married, I get a say in this.” The two friends laughed and hugged.

  “Thank you, hon.”

  Shannon moved on to the next bridesmaid, Brendan’s fourteen year old sister Emily, a girl Shannon had really taken a liking to over the last three years. So sweet and innocent. “You look so gorgeous in your dress, honey. So grown up. Thank you for agreeing to be my bridesmaid.”

  “Of course! I’m so excited!”

  Winking, Shannon replied, “Me too, hon. Me too.”

  Shannon was about to move onto her other two bridesmaids when Brendan’s best man and college roommate burst into the room.

  He was panting, as though he’d run all the way from downstairs where the boys were partying. “Emmy, Shannon, you need to come with me.” Something was wrong.

  Glancing at each other, Shannon and Emily hurried out of the room with him. Up close, they could see his eyes were red and rimmed with tears. Shannon knew immediately. Something had happened to Brendan. The next few hours faded into a blur of crying and police questions. Brendan’s body had been discovered. It was too late. He was dead.

  Evidence was minimal and security cameras had been expertly avoided. The behavioral analyst on the case suggested the killer knew Brendan. It was premeditated, not random and impetuous, but all possible suspects were eliminated early in the investigation. The detectives never found anyone with the motive, means, and opportunity. The local investigators were useless and never apprehended a single suspect.

  Shannon had lost her fiancé less than 24 hours before their wedding. Nothing could have prepared her for the depths of despair she faced over the next months as the investigation sputtered, stalled, and died. The ream of casework found its place in an abandoned file cabinet labeled “Cold Cases.” To the investigators, the failure was frustrating and disappointing, but they moved on to fresher cases and Brendan was forgotten.

  For Brendan’s father and sister, and for Shannon, however, the wound stayed fresh. A day rarely passed where the tears didn’t come in torrents, rarely a night without being woken by nightmares. Thoughts of revenge haunted her dreams, as she hoped to one day come face to face with her husband’s killer.

  Anyone would have understood if she wanted to bury the knife herself, but in those early dreams of getting even, she never struck the killing blow. Rather, she hoped for a karmic act of justice, God justly smiting the murderer with a great wielding of power. She often imagined it happening as a freak lightning strike, a sudden burst of electrical energy streaking down from the heavens and lighting him up like those Sunday cartoons she used to watch as a child.

  It wasn’t until six months later, when she cleaned out her closet and came across a container of packaged wedding odd and ends, that something within her changed. The box held a few dead flowers from her bouquet, extra wedding invitations, a book of phone numbers, and a copy of the vows she’d intended to read at the altar. They decided to forego the traditional vows and write their own. Brendan insisted it’d be more romantic. As she sat on the edge of her bed, the words began to flow off the page once again.

  Dr. Seuss once said the way to know you’re in love is when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your wildest dreams. I first heard this quote a long time ago, but never truly understood what it meant until I met Brendan.

  She barely got through the first lines before tears rimmed her eyes and blurred her vision. She hadn’t read these words since her attempts to memorize them leading up to the wedding. As her eyes scanned the page, something inside of her cracked and a dark veil lifted in front of her.

  No amount of tears and grieving could bring Brendan back to her. She vowed to never again shed a tear for that cause. Her broken heart, filled with sorrow and grief, emptied and overflowed with anger and hatred. From this point forward, her countenance would remain steadfast and stoic, focused solely on vengeance.

  The return of Krieger’s crackling voice over the radio static jolted Shannon out of her reverie. “I’ve got eyes on him.”

  Dominic scrambled to grab the handset and respond. “Copy. Are you sure it’s him?”

  “It’s definitely Ramirez. I’ll move in closer.” He left his talk button depressed, so Shannon and Dominic could listen in. Despite the heavy metal “music” blaring, the radio microphone was close enough to Krieger’s mouth to capture what he was saying. “He’s at a table near the back with two scary-looking chicks. Stands out like a sore thumb.”

  Both Shannon and Dominic shifted to the edge of their seats, listening as Krieger made his way across the room to the table. As he approached, they were able to hear the initial confrontation.

  “Victor Ramirez?” Krieger’s voice boomed.

  “Who’s asking?” Ramirez’s accent was strong and his response difficult to hear due to the noise and his distance from the radio.

  “Could I ask you a few questions?”

  “No, you may not.” Ramirez cackled. “Now go away, por favor. Va!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m with law enforcement. We need to take you in for a few ques—” A sudden scuffle cut off Krieger’s response. A couple thuds. Dominic and Shannon straightened. Dominic reached into the back seat, grabbing his shoulder harness and gun. Krieger’s voice sounded across the airwaves.

  “Backup! Backup! He’s headed out the door to the back alley behind the club.”

  Chapter 21

  Shannon and Dominic leapt out of the car and sprinted toward the club. “I’ll go around to the right. You take the left and try to cut him off at Mulgrew.” Dominic shouted instructions as they split, hoping to corner the suspect.

  Speaking into his radio this time, he addressed Krieger, “Shannon and I are on it. Make sure he doesn’t double back.” As Shannon disappeared around one side of the building, he pounded down the street before turning left into an alleyway.

  He decelerated as he entered the alley, alert and observant. He studied Victor’s options. He hadn’t exited this way, nor run into Shannon on far side of the building, which meant he took a side route toward the main road. Three alleys branched off of this one. Two popped out onto Mulgrew, which Shannon was covering. The only other possibility was a narrow cut-through that, after some zigs and zags, led onto Archer Street.

  “I need a couple units on Archer near the market, ASAP.” Other law enforcement vehicles cruised the streets in the surrounding area. He hoped one of them was near enough to c
ut off Ramirez’s escape.

  Dominic made a snap decision and turned the corner into the tiny side alley on his right and set off at a brisk jog.

  A few seconds after making that turn, he knew he’d chosen wisely. About 100 yards ahead, Vic leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Dominic darted forward, staying close to the wall and remaining as quiet as possible. He’d cut the distance in half when Victor glanced up, spotting his pursuer.

  “Freeze. Don’t move a muscle.” Dominic approached his quarry, gun drawn. He took slow, purposeful steps, moving with caution. The narrow alley, crowded with garbage cans, fire escapes and trash piles, left little room for maneuvering. Victor slowly angled to face him. He smiled.

  “Or else what? You’ll shoot me? We both know you won’t. You want me alive.” The man paused, considering his options, and then began to back away down the alley. He eyed the gun with a wary eye, but disregarded Dominic’s order. A small smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He was taunting his adversary, and a laugh danced at the edges of his lips, waiting to burst out mockingly.

  BANG!

  A lead bullet ricocheted off the fire escape above Victor and the perp jerked to a halt. He clearly hadn’t expected Dominic to fire his weapon, much less put the bullet that close to his head. “I’m not afraid to do what I need to, Vic.”

  Victor’s expression faltered for a second, before returning to a stoic gaze. Now it was Dominic’s turn to laugh, a single bark to make sure his target knew exactly who was in charge.

  “Heh. I don’t want to kill you. We do need you. But I can’t let you get away either and I’ll do what’s needed to prevent that.” Ramirez stopped backing away and waited for Dominic to approach. He didn’t say a word as the agent closed in.