The Unlucky

by Jonas Saul

  “You want to join me for a cup of tea in Hell?” Sarah asked, surprised her voice didn’t waver. “There’s a seat at the Devil’s Café open for you.”

  “No, I think not. You, along with hundreds of women before you, have met these flames. So many women have been taken by my crematorium. You’re just another number. A necessary one, but just a number. Goodbye, Sarah.”

  He walked out of view. She arched her head back to see what he was doing but Mason was in the way. Behind her, he worked on something under the gurney. Then the steel slab moved. It slid closer to the open maw of the fires. Panic rose and her throat tightened.

  Then it all stopped at the sound of a gun. Mason’s arm lifted off her. She spun around to see what was going on as more noise came from upstairs. Someone was knocking on the outer door now.

  She arched her head back.

  Upside down, she watched as Mason fired again and again into Machiavelli. When he fell, Machiavelli bumped into a table on wheels and spilled the tools to the tile floor in a huge racket.

  Mason waited until Machiavelli stopped twitching before he took his eyes off him and turned back to Sarah.

  He trudged over to her, the look on his face one of acceptance now. He actually appeared calm, resolute.

  “Taking Samantha was their mistake,” he said. “Beat me, hurt me, but touch my wife—no, they went too far.” He looked down at his shoes and shook his head as tears fell from his eyes. “They went too far. And now it’s all over.”

  Someone knocked on a door again. What sounded like Detective Diner’s voice yelled Mason’s name.

  “I called my partner here so she could do the clean up. I want you to tell her everything.”

  What was he thinking? That he would die down here? Or kill himself? Sarah had been around death so often that when Fletcher and Machiavelli were killed in front of her, she didn’t feel a thing, except maybe relief. But Mason had helped Vanessa escape and then lost his wife. He wasn’t entirely to blame here.

  “You tell her yourself, Mason,” Sarah said. “Wait for her to come in.”

  “There’s a black book with every person’s name in it. Machiavelli usually manages it, but it was removed recently. They thought Vanessa took it, but she didn’t. Find the black book. Every crime, every victim, every violator to cross The Club’s path is in that book.”

  Someone banged on the door harder this time. Diner’s voice was clear. She identified herself and explained that she was coming in.

  “The black book might be at the warehouse, but I can’t be sure. Take these.” He held out what looked like little ID cards. “With these, they’ll let you in.” He gently slipped them inside her pants pocket. “I’ve done all I can.”

  A door burst open in the other room.

  Mason brought the gun up to his chin and squeezed the trigger without hesitation.

  Sarah shut her eyes and turned away, but not in time. The top of Mason’s head lifted off in a small puff, his hair billowing as air blew it up from the inside of his head. Before closing her eyes, she saw the blood splatter on the ceiling above him.

  “Gun!” someone yelled from the other room.

  “No shit,” Sarah yelled back.

  Detective Diner moved into view. After pushing the button to close the door to the fires of cremation, she turned to look at Sarah, completely ignoring the body of her partner at her feet.

  “I didn’t see my car out front.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re going to have to talk about that.”

  Chapter 27

  “This is how they dispose of so many victims,” Sarah said in an attempt to explain what had happened at the funeral home.

  “No.” Detective Diner raised a finger at Sarah. “Don’t talk right now. I don’t want to hear your voice.”

  Police officers swarmed throughout the funeral home like angry bees searching out the queen. They had entered through the front door, Diner leading the way with a warrant that her partner had already requested. She brought a contingent of fifty officers and a division of Toronto’s ETF. Two fire trucks were parked out front and several ambulances were on standby. During the assault, only one officer was shot in the lower leg by Machiavelli’s men.

  Officers entering the funeral home had encountered little to no resistance from the twenty-two men in the waiting room and surrounding premises upstairs. According to officers reporting to Diner, only two people had been killed other than the two city councilors and Niles in the cremation room. It was quite clear early on what had happened in the basement of the funeral home. Maybe that was why Detective Diner hadn’t asked for Sarah’s version yet.

  Diner placed handcuffs on Sarah and whispered, “How does it feel now that the tables have turned?”

  Diner brought Sarah upstairs and asked two officers to guard her in the waiting room.

  A half hour later, Detective Diner dropped onto the sofa in the waiting room beside Sarah.

  “You want to fill me in?” She turned to look at Sarah. “What the hell happened here? What’s going on? Why is my partner dead?”

  “There are men in our society that want more from women …” Sarah started.

  Diner scrunched her eyes and shot her head back. “What?” she said in an exasperated tone.

  “Let me explain. I’m still learning all the facts myself. These men are running something that used to be called a Torture Garden.”

  “A Torture Garden? You don’t mean the TG that started in London a couple of decades ago, do you?”

  “As far as I know, yes.” They were bringing Mason’s body upstairs. Sarah waited until they passed so she could have Diner’s full attention. “How would you know about the Torture Garden?” Sarah asked.

  “I worked a case a few years back regarding a misper at a place called Buddies in Bad Times Theatre here in Toronto. My investigation brought me to the Torture Garden’s doorstep. I researched them, checked to see their paperwork was in order and left it at that. Based on our laws here in Ontario, the Torture Garden is legal. They’re in major cities across the globe like London, Athens, and Moscow.”

  “What these men were doing,” Sarah said, “was bringing a whole new meaning to torture. They took what the TG had done and added to it.”

  Diner got up from the sofa. “How do you know all this?”

  “My sister.”

  “You mean your dead sister?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “You know, Sarah, those cuffs are on you because you’re going downtown to be formally charged for the crimes you’ve committed over the past few days. The murder of Vanessa Simmons, Joel and Belinda and Aldrich senior in the cancer hospital to name a few. If you’re thinking of pleading insanity and talking wild stories about a dead sister speaking to you, then the schizo defense might work. But it’ll be a year or two process and there’s no way a judge would allow bail. Not with what you’ve done.”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you, Detective.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not yet,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

  “I’m pissed about my car.”

  “I know. But there’s more.”

  “More? What are you talking about, more?”

  “The warehouse.” Sarah met Diner’s eyes.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What warehouse?”

  “These councilors own a warehouse. Inside, they have kidnapped girls being held captive. That’s where the real torture happens. When the girls succumb to their injuries, they’re brought here and cremated, never to be heard of again. Aren’t you ever curious about the staggering number of missing people, especially young girls, that never turn up? And there are people like Detective Simmons who get caught up with this consortium because of the money. He felt he was once removed, but he wasn’t. They watched him like a hawk. One mistake, and he had to pay with his daughter. It was Mason who saved Vanessa. But then Mason had to pay with his wife. It’s no wonder he lost it in there and shot the men responsible for the murder of his
wife.”

  “Okay,” Diner put her hands on her hips. “I’ve heard you. Now listen to me.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe in the Other Side. There are no ghosts, no boogey men and no God. But I do believe in evil men. So say you’re right about this warehouse. Where is it and how could we build a case around it if the dead councilors downstairs ran it? Who is left to arrest?”

  “There are more powerful men out there who help run it.”

  “Really, I’m curious.” Diner leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with Sarah. “How do you know all this shit?”

  “I told you. Vivian, my dead sister.”

  They locked eyes. Diner blinked and backed away.

  “You won’t lighten up and tell me the truth about your source? Right?”

  “That is the truth.”

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  Sarah nodded and crossed her legs. “Go ahead. This ought to be interesting.”

  “Prove to me Vivian exists. Prove there is an Other Side and I will believe everything you say to the point that you knew what you were doing from the start.”

  “What are you saying?” Sarah asked, her head slanted to the side. “I walk if Vivian’s real?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said I would believe you. I would think of you in a different light. As if you’re on our side and not an insane vigilante.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “What?”

  “I said I would think about it. But first, you have to take me to the warehouse.”

  “The warehouse?”

  “Yes. Right now. Because they haven’t heard that Machiavelli and Fletcher are dead. Operations are in full swing as we speak. Once they discover what happened here, they’ll be shutting everything down and cleaning the place up until they regroup and find a new spot.”

  “I would never take you there. They’d take my badge. You’re a civilian. And you’re out of your mind.”

  “You will take me there. And you’ll just take me, alone. A bunch of cops would spook them. But we have to do it now.”

  Diner straightened her jacket and stared down at Sarah. “You’ve got some balls.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  Diner looked her up and down. “You’re crazy.”

  “I will do something for you,” Sarah whispered.

  “What?” Diner leaned in. “Say again,” she said, sarcasm in her words. “Didn’t hear you.”

  It was clear Detective Diner had lost her patience and allowed anger to influence her decisions.

  “I will tell you what happened to your …” Sarah paused and offered a gentle smile. “I will explain what happened to your brother.”

  Diner gasped and stood back. Color filled her cheeks. She mumbled something, then took another step back.

  “How dare you?” Diner hissed. “How fucking dare you?” Diner grabbed the cop guarding Sarah by the forearm. “Get her out of here. Place her in my cruiser. Then stay outside the car.” The cop was nodding. “Do not talk to this woman. Do not listen to a word she says.” Diner looked at another officer guarding Sarah. “Can you both do that?”

  They nodded. “Absolutely, Detective.”

  “Good. Go.” Diner glared at Sarah. “Get her out of my sight.”

  Chapter 28

  The cruiser was hot. Too hot to be stuck inside. The smell from the Chinese restaurant hadn’t dissipated and in this heat, it worsened.

  All the windows were rolled up and the car wasn’t turned on, so no air conditioning alleviated the sun as it beat in through the windshield hot enough to melt the grease embedded in her shirt.

  She yelled to the officers standing outside that this was cruel and unusual punishment, but as instructed, they didn’t pay any attention to her. After five minutes, the only air she was getting was through her mouth as she breathed slowly and evenly.

  Furtive glances back to the entrance of the funeral home were fruitless. Detective Diner would come out when she was done and not a second sooner.

  In the quiet of the vehicle, Sarah closed her eyes and listened for Vivian.

  You out there?

  Nothing came to her.

  That’s great. Thanks.

  Sarah jumped as the car door ripped open and Diner dropped inside. She turned the car on and the air conditioner began blowing blessed cool air into the back. Sarah breathed in deep. Her shirt was soaked through with sweat in the short time she had been in the car and now it gave her the chills as the air cooled it.

  Diner turned around and placed her arm on the back of the seat.

  “What the fuck are you trying to do?” Diner asked.

  “Finish this case.”

  “And? What was that about my brother?”

  “That was to help you believe in my sister and ultimately, the Other Side.”

  She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Say I believe in the Other Side. Let’s go all the way and say I believe in everything you represent. What has that got to do with my brother?”

  “Start driving.” Sarah shivered from the cold involuntarily. “I will direct you.”

  “To what?”

  “To your brother.”

  Diner didn’t talk for a full minute and Sarah wasn’t about to interrupt her thoughts.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “No. You drive there. Then we go to the warehouse.”

  “No way.”

  “Once inside the warehouse, you will see everything you need to see to make all the busts necessary. You can close these assholes down for good.”

  “And how do we get inside?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  “Ohhh, you love all the control, don’t you. Like this is your show and I’m just an invited guest.”

  Sarah glanced out the window and watched as another body was removed from the funeral home. It wasn’t often that bodies were taken out of funeral homes in this manner.

  “Then what?” Diner asked. “I arrest you for all your crimes and that’s it. You explain to the judge how much help you gave me in hopes it’ll reduce your sentence? Or are you still going for the insanity plea?”

  “One thing at a time. We can deal with that later. There’s something you need to get at the warehouse.”

  “What’s that?”

  Sarah turned from the window. “There’s a black book. Inside this book, the names of all the people who tortured the victims and every victim ever to set foot in the warehouse are listed. Get the black book and you have the case of the century. The problem is, this black book has city councilors in it, as well as powerful judges, Mafia types, all the way down to rich men visiting Toronto and wanting a little fun.”

  “That sort of thing doesn’t bother me. I don’t care how powerful you are. If you broke the law, I will arrest you.”

  “Great. Then start driving. The black book is in the warehouse today. Tomorrow it won’t be.”

  Diner turned back in her seat and faced forward. After a moment, she put the unmarked cruiser in gear and drove them off the funeral home’s property.

  “Where to?” she asked.

  “The warehouse is—”

  “No,” Diner cut her off. “Where is my brother?”

  “Take the 401 until you hit Brock Road near Pickering. Head north on Brock.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed. You know a lot about this area for an American.”

  “I’m only repeating what my sister has told me.”

  Diner’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, then looked away only enough to watch the road.

  Sarah stared at the passing scenery and hoped they weren’t too late getting to the warehouse.

  If they were, a man would be leaving with the black book. If he took it, the book would leave the country by tomorrow. It would never be located again.

  Maybe that’s why Vivian told me to ask Aaron for a ride to the airport.

  Chapter 29

  As Diner turned north on Brock Road, Sarah w
atched the mall pass by on her right.

  “Turn in here,” Sarah instructed.

  Diner hit her indicator and turned into the mall.

  “Park by the Wal-Mart.”