by Marc Daniel
Vadim’s killer had been decapitated by Biörn, and this detail had immediately raised an alarm in Ivanov’s mind. Why would anyone chop someone’s head off when there were a thousand easier ways to kill a man? But the answer became obvious if the killer had not been a man but a werewolf…
“How do you know that was one of Clemens’ men?” asked Petrovich disbelievingly. “Why would he be after Vadim?”
“Never mind how I know,” replied Ivanov impatiently. “It is time for us to find out what Clemens is up to. Andrei, go back to watch Clemens’ house and let me know everything that happens there. Igor, hit every informant we have. I want to know about any recent unusual activity, and I’m not only talking about drugs, I mean prostitution, gambling, weapons, the whole nine yards. I want to know if there is a new gang in town trying to play in our field, and I want the information yesterday!”
Chapter 83
Michael was strolling along the bayou in downtown Houston. The bayou shores had been converted into a nature walk, which, if one managed to tune out the surrounding clamor of the city, offered a restful if not peaceful saunter along the water.
Michael’s train of thought kept going from Ivanov, to Clemens, to Sheila, without ever following thoroughly a single line of thought. His incapacity to stop the violence left him feeling helpless: a disgusting sensation. In spite of all his strength and power he was unable to protect the people he cared for. He had arrived barely on time to save Sheila, and it had been nothing but sheer luck. What would have happened if he had arrived a couple minutes later, or if he hadn’t turned on the TV and learned about her article? He did not want to think about this possibility but could not help it.
Sheila was now at her house under the guard of two Houston PD babysitters, but the cops could not protect her forever, and Michael seriously doubted their capacity to deter a werewolf attack. He was the only one who could stop the violence, but first he needed to understand the situation and motivations behind it.
Lewis and Salazar had shown up at Sheila’s twenty minutes after the first cop car and had taken charge of the situation. Michael had then woken up David Starks with the news before returning to Sheila’s side. His motivation for staying close to the journalist during the cops questioning was not purely sympathetic; he also wanted to make sure the shaken-up young woman did not accidentally reveal embarrassing information.
He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his right back pocket and unfolded it carefully to avoid ripping the already abused document. It was his fact list. He had spent countless hours staring at the list over the past week and had added relevant pieces of information to the document as they became available to him. The list currently counted ten items:
1) Deputy Chief Sullivan and his two Rottweilers were killed at home by Wolf-A, who escaped through a window. Window broken from the inside indicates escape point and not entry way.
2) Two guns were found on the floor in Sullivan’s living room, but only one set of paw prints.
3) Steve and Marge Harrington were killed in their home by Wolf-B, who too escaped through the window. Same observation as above for the window.
4) David Starks attacked at home by Wolf-C, who was shot repeatedly by the detective but managed to escape…
5) There is an active wolf pack in Houston whose association with the mob is likely.
6) I was attacked by the mob shortly after visiting Peter Clemens, the Alpha, at his house in the forest. Possibly the pack headquarters.
7) At least one wolf has infiltrated the local police, possibly more.
8) Sheila was attacked by Ivanov’s henchmen after writing an article hinting at a connection between the mob and the wolf attacks.
9) Clemens keeps a file with my name on it in his desk.
10) Clemens sent his wolves to try and kill me.
He pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and, using his knee as a table, added a line at the bottom of the list:
11) Wolf-A was killed by me while trying to kill Sheila. He had previously assassinated a known associate of Ivanov, presumably sent to kill Sheila as well. Strangely, Wolf-A morphed back into his human form after his death and the wolf scent had completely disappeared from the body.
In spite of the strongly suspected business association between Clemens and Ivanov, the facts were pointing against them working together in this specific instance. Why would they both send a hitman to kill Sheila if they had agreed on the hit in the first place? It simply didn’t make any sense. The fact that Ivanov’s assassin had been killed by Clemens’ wolf was a clear indication that the two organizations weren’t as close as he and David had previously suspected.
Ivanov’s motivations for silencing the journalist were clear. His name had been mentioned multiple times in Sheila’s latest piece and since she had ignored the mobster’s not too subtle previous warning, he had decided to deal once and for all with the problem.
Clemens’ motivations, on the other hand, were less obvious. The wolves’ attack had barely been mentioned in Sheila’s latest article, and there was a good chance Clemens did not even know Sheila had been in Michael’s bedroom when his wolf had shown up to kill him. So why did he want her dead if, as far as he was concerned, she knew nothing about him? Unless Wolf-A was not one of Clemens’… but that possibility sent his head spinning. The pieces of the puzzle definitely did not fit together.
Chapter 84
Aside from his occasional customers, the Chemist never had any visitors. He lived in quasi-isolation, only getting out to stock up on essentials—toilet paper, soap or bourbon—when his supplies were running low. He hardly ever talked to anyone, and the Chinese food delivery guy was the closest thing he had to a friend. As a result, he benefited from one of the lowest phone bills in the country, only calling to order food or, more rarely, to take commands from his various employers. So, when the phone rang, the Chemist knew exactly who was calling him. He had been expecting the call all day and for once was glad it finally came. He had been receiving the same call daily for the past two weeks, but this time was different: this time he had what the other man had been asking for so persistently.
“Hello?”
“I hope for your sake you have some good news for me, Victor,” answered the Alpha’s voice on the other end of the line. “My patience is running extremely thin.”
“I do. I just sealed the last drum, sir,” answered the Chemist in an ill-assured and slightly quivering voice.
“I will send my man to pick up the drums tomorrow,” replied the Alpha in a business-like tone. “How many are there?”
“There are eleven five-gallon drums, sir,”
“Good,” the Alpha answered in a neutral tone. He was about to hang up when the Chemist, who had finally gathered his courage, added, “Please make sure your man brings my money with him.”
The Alpha did not bother answering and simply hung up.
The Chemist was shaking slightly and his pulse was racing. He hated doing business with this particular customer, but the money was too good to pass up. He also knew he wasn’t dealing with the type of man who would take no for an answer. Since he was forced to do the work, he might as well get paid for it…
Victor settled back down in front of his TV program wondering what these people were going to do with his product. In its current state and in such an amount, it could kill off an entire city block. For the first time, Victor considered the possibility that these men belonged to a terrorist organization… but he quickly dismissed the thought. His previous shipments had been delivered in injectable vials—hardly a convenient way to poison a large group. What the hell were they doing with the stuff?
Chapter 85
The investigation was not progressing at the pace Detective Samantha Lewis would have liked. As a matter of fact, it was not progressing at all, but this was about to change. For the first time since the beginning of their investigation, Lewis and Salazar had finally caught a break.
The DNA analysis of a blood sa
mple taken from the body of the man Michael Biörn had executed at Sheila Wang’s over the weekend had just come back from the lab. According to the report, the same DNA had been found in the mouth of one of Chief Deputy Sullivan’s Rottweilers.
Samantha Lewis was still poring over the report when Salazar entered the office carrying a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a raspberry cheese Danish in the other.
“Have you already seen this?” asked Lewis, pointing at the report, but Salazar’s mouth was now filled with Danish and he simply nodded.
“And what do you think of it?”
Salazar chewed a few more seconds before answering, “What is there to think? We know the guy who, most likely, brought the wolf that killed Sullivan, and also tried to do the journalist in. The only certain conclusion I can draw from this is the man was a killer… everything else is conjectural.” He sounded slightly annoyed, but Lewis knew his animosity wasn’t directed towards her; he was simply as frustrated with the case as she was.
“Why do you think he was after Sheila Wang?” asked Lewis.
“Not the faintest idea. Ask me about Vadim, and I’ll tell you he was sent by Ivanov to get rid of an irritating journalist who should have kept her nose out of the mob’s business. But about that guy… it beats me!”
“Same here,” replied Lewis. “And why did he kill Vadim? If they were both sent to kill the journalist, why would they kill each other?”
Salazar pondered the question an instant, taking advantage of this opportunity to finish up his pastry. “I suppose they could have stumbled upon each other, got scared and started fighting…”
“There was no sign of struggle, but that doesn’t mean much… The fight was probably short-lived.” Lewis got up to go fetch herself a cup of coffee.
She came back a minute later, sipping on a mug of what looked like slightly off-white liquid. Samantha Lewis did not drink her coffee with milk, she drank her milk with a hint of coffee.
“At least we know the guy’s identity now: Jack Moore, according to his driver’s license. That’s a lead…” she said, more cheerfully than she really felt as she sat back behind her desk.
“Hasn’t done us much good so far... We know he’s a mechanic and has no known affiliation with organized crime. Aside from a couple parking tickets, his file was more virgin than my fifteen-year-old daughter.”
“Aren’t you always the cheerleader? At least that gives us somewhere to start. We can go to the garage he used to work at and ask questions. It beats staying here drinking coffee and eating doughnuts!” replied Lewis scornfully.
“It was a Danish, not a doughnut!”
“Whatever!”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each doing their own thing before Lewis said, “It sure is strange to find Biörn around every fresh body…”
“It’s more than strange, but until we can link him to any wrong doing, there is not much we can do about it.” Salazar sounded pensive. “But since so far he’s only been taking the garbage out, and in apparent self-defense moreover, I can’t really say I’m eager to put him behind bars.”
Chapter 86
“You don’t understand, Ma’am. We have our orders. We are to stay inside the house at all times,” said the officer in a confused voice. His partner was looking at him uneasily, neither one of them comprehending why Sheila wanted them out of the house when the sole reason for their presence in the first place was to assure her protection. Only three days ago, the woman had been the victim of a double assassination attempt and now she wanted to send the cops assigned to her protection packing.
The officer suspected that her sudden decision was driven by the recent arrival of Michael Biörn, but the man didn’t even carry a gun. What was he going to do if the mob sent more assassins after Sheila? Chop them to pieces with his sword? He’d been lucky once, but that wouldn’t happen again, especially not if they sent a whole squad after her the next time around.
“I understand your orders, and I most definitely appreciate you watching over me these past few days. But I can’t live like this, with police officers babysitting me day in and day out,” said Sheila in a conciliatory tone. “Tell your commanding officer that I kicked you out. The law forbids you to stay inside my house against my will without a warrant, and since you don’t have one… you have to go.”
“But Ma’am—”started the second officer, as Sheila walked to the door, unlocked it, and held it wide open for the officers to take their leave. Reluctantly, the two cops complied and left the house.
Sheila returned to the living room where Michael was waiting, sitting in a black leather armchair. She walked to the loveseat located at a ninety-degree angle from his seat and settled on the side closest to him. Her demeanor and determination reminded Michael of a Potawatomi woman he had known while fighting alongside the natives during the Northwest Indian War. The same petite body, the same feistiness and obstinacy… She had survived the war against the United States only to be killed by a vampire three months after the conflict had ended in 1795. Alcoholism and smallpox weren’t the only gifts the Europeans had brought with them to America. Vampires had also been part of the package.
“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Michael motioned with his head towards the door.
“No, but I couldn’t take it anymore. In addition, I feel much safer with you around than with those two gentlemen. We both know they couldn’t do much against those who want to kill me…” she added in a conspiratorial tone.
“They could have done something against the mob. You apparently made a lot of enemies these past few days.”
“True, but unlike them, you can protect me from both.”
Michael considered her last statement for a moment before answering, “I might make a more efficient bodyguard than those cops out there, but if it weren’t for me, you probably wouldn’t need a bodyguard…”
He was also thinking that the cops were soon going to arrest him with or without evidence if the bodies kept piling up around him. His providential arrival at Sheila’s the night of the assassination attempt had been nothing short of a miracle. After hearing about her new article on the news, he had rushed to her house and had made it just in time. He had told Lewis and Salazar so, but although for once he had been telling the truth, the detectives hadn’t seemed to be buying it. Cops did not believe in miracles.
“The mob attacked me in the park long before I ever came to see you and accidentally witnessed your dirty little secret, Michael. So your point isn’t really valid. Unless, of course, you mean to tell me you are the one behind the werewolf attacks?” she retorted.
In spite of the woman’s aggravating way of contradicting every point he made, Michael did not get upset by her. There was something about the way the corner of her mouth pointed slightly upward after she made a point that prevented him from getting irritated.
“At any rate, I don’t live here, Sheila. No matter how long I stay with you, I will have to go back to my motel sooner or later, and then you’ll be without any protection at all,” he replied in a slightly lecturing voice.
“About that,” she said, trying not to smile, “I was thinking maybe you could move in with me for the time being. I have a spare bedroom and it would be cheaper for you than staying in those sleazy motels. That way you’d save money while protecting me… two birds with one stone, as they say.”
Before Michael could object, she jumped out of her seat and started walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll prepare some tea. No milk, no sugar, and twelve spoons of honey, right?” she asked without looking at him.
Chapter 87
Katia Olveda was in the elevator of the government building that harbored the DA’s office when her phone chimed, indicating the arrival of a new text message. She was still absorbed by her reading as she stepped out of the elevator onto a virtually deserted office floor. Interesting, she thought, replacing the phone in her purse before realizing the unusual vacancy of the office. She wondered for an instant why th
e place was practically empty before noticing voices coming from the break room.
She walked towards the room and squeezed through the door past a couple of administrative assistants absorbed in an animated discussion. The two women fell silent and Katia felt their stares burning a hole in the back of her head. Strange, she thought, not turning around to confirm her impression.
The break room contained a TV and the majority of the thirty plus people crammed into the room was absorbed by the special news report airing on television. The others just stared at Katia, which started to irritate her mildly.
It only took a few seconds for her to realize what the news was about: John Macfly had been gunned down an hour earlier on his way to work. A motorcycle had stopped next to his car, and the driver had shot him twice in the head before fleeing the scene. The killer had been wearing a dark visor and no identification had been possible.
John Macfly had been the Harris County’s most senior Assistant District Attorney and had been well positioned to win the upcoming election to replace the soon to be retired DA.
Katia suddenly understood why the whole room seemed to be looking at her. With Macfly out of the picture, she had just become the most logical and likely candidate for the DA’s position.
She stormed out of the room, ignoring the insistent and intent looks of her coworkers, and went to lock herself up in her own office. She needed time to think. She was pretty sure she knew who was behind the hit, but she had not been warned about it. You’d think he would have bothered telling her… There wasn’t much she could do about it now. Complaining was useless and would not help her case anyway. The prospect of becoming the city’s new DA wasn’t too displeasing either; she just wished he had warned her about his intention, that’s all.
After a few minutes thinking things over, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed Clemens’ number. Clemens sounded busy and the call only lasted a minute or two. Katia delivered the contents of the text message she had received a few minutes earlier that had disclosed Michael Biörn’s current location, before she was quickly dismissed by the Houston pack Alpha.