Grim Reflections (Gray Spear Society Book 9)

by Alex Siegel

  "Stay put!" Smythe said.

  Odelia entered the house and closed the door.

  "What's going on?" the man yelled. "Who are you guys? Is this a home invasion?"

  Smythe looked around the room. Exercise equipment and food garbage was everywhere, but he had expected that. He spotted a bed in the next room.

  "Come on," he told Odelia.

  They went into the bedroom together. The bed had rumpled, yellow sheets, and a white comforter was wadded up in the middle. Pornographic magazines were lying openly on the nightstand. Workout clothes were scattered on the floor. The room stank of stale sweat.

  Odelia examined the bed closely without touching it. "I don't see anything besides yucky sheets."

  "Use your gift," Smythe said.

  Her hands began to glow. She swept them over the bed like a pair of metal detectors. "Wait. There is something. I feel life."

  He took a magnifying glass out of the evidence kit and turned on all the lights in the room. He leaned over the bed and pulled back the sheets. Through the glass, he saw very tiny, brown insects.

  "Bed bugs," he said in a tone of disgust.

  Odelia's eyes widened. "They would make a great disease vector. Their bites puncture the skin."

  "Hold on."

  Smythe ran back into the front room. He knelt over the half-naked man on the floor and saw a rash on his neck and arms.

  "Bug bites," Smythe said. "I saw this on the first cannibal, but I didn't know what it meant. I thought it was an allergic reaction."

  "Bug bites?" the man said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "How long have you been itching?"

  "I don't know. About two weeks. Why?"

  "You have a severe case of bed bugs," Smythe said.

  "I do not! My sheets are brand new."

  "That may not be relevant, but when did you buy them?"

  The man paused. "About two weeks ago."

  Smythe and Odelia exchanged alarmed looks.

  He grabbed his phone, stepped away, and called Aaron.

  "You got something?"

  "Yes, sir," Smythe said. "This man bought new sheets two weeks ago. They came pre-infested with bed bugs, and now he's very sick. It's not a trick this time. I saw the bugs with my own eyes."

  "OK!" Aaron said excitedly. "I'll call some of the other victims to see if they also purchased sheets recently. You find out where those sheets came from and check it out."

  "Yes, sir." Smythe hung up his phone and returned to the man on the floor. "Where did you buy the sheets?"

  "What's going on?"

  Smythe kicked him in the ribs. "I asked you a question!"

  The man gasped for breath and writhed in pain. Eventually, he said, "The Lucky Dollar Store around the corner."

  "What brand? Describe the packaging."

  "I don't remember!"

  "Think." Smythe stepped on the man's shoulder hard enough to cause pain.

  "White box. Blue label. I didn't see a brand. The sheets were dirt cheap. Ow! Get off me!"

  Smythe moved back and narrowed his eyes. "I bet they were practically giving them away."

  "Yeah. The sheets were on the discount rack in front. Cash only."

  Smythe began to take the handcuffs off the man.

  "Wait." Odelia grabbed Smythe's arm. "We should heal this guy before we go."

  "That will take time."

  "Only a couple of minutes. Put him to sleep so he won't see."

  Smythe nodded. He took a bottle of little, white pills out of his pocket, shook out one pill, and forced it into the man's mouth. Smythe tapped his foot impatiently while they waited for the drug to take effect. Finally, the man's eyes closed.

  Odelia knelt down and put her hands on his back. She went to full power immediately. The bright glow made Smythe shield his eyes and squint.

  "Come on," she said. "I need you."

  He knelt on the other side of the patient and put one hand on his back. Smythe lifted Odelia's shirt with his other hand, put it inside her chest, and touched her beating heart.

  Her gift shot up his arm and into his body. She was using him as a second conduit to God. A billion amps of life energy rushed through him. The sensation was so intense, Smythe felt like he was submerged in white fire. His pulse thudded in his ears. He wanted to scream from the pain, but he kept quiet.

  It ended suddenly.

  Odelia stood up. "Done. Now we can go."

  Smythe took the handcuffs, and they ran out of the house.

  * * *

  Smythe drove into the large parking lot of a strip mall. Even though it was the middle of the day, the lot was almost empty. He parked directly in front of the Lucky Dollar Store. He didn't need to check for threats because there was no cover for them to hide behind.

  The store had a big, golden sign above the door. Smythe had seen similar stores around Chicago, and this one appeared ordinary enough. He checked his weapons anyway, and Odelia did the same.

  They got out of the car and jogged to the front door of the store. The sidewalk had been swept and salted, but a few tenacious patches of ice remained. They went inside.

  The interior looked like a cross between a grocery store and a flea market. Some shelves held cheap, generic food which probably tasted like cardboard. Seemingly random goods filled the rest of the store. One whole section was dedicated to Christmas ornaments. Smythe had almost forgotten that Christmas was coming up, and he wondered if he would live to see it.

  He walked up to a wire stand placed prominently in front. White and blue boxes were simply labeled, "Sheets - Guaranteed Top Quality." Plastic windows allowed him to see the colors of the sheets inside. He took a box and examined it for other markings, but there was nothing but a price label. He couldn't even find a UPC barcode. The sheets cost only ten dollars per box, and the sign specified "CASH ONLY."

  "Cheap," Odelia said.

  "Death always comes cheap." Smythe put the box back. "Let's find the manager."

  He looked around. The store was empty of customers. A very bored, young cashier stood behind a cash register. He was a teenage boy with greasy hair and acne.

  Smythe walked over to him. "Hey, kid! Where's your manager?"

  The boy had a dull expression as he pointed to a back door.

  Smythe and Odelia jogged over to the door and burst through. They entered a small office with a desk and several filing cabinets. Piles of paperwork covered all available surfaces.

  The manager was an obese, African-American man. He was wearing a golden, button-up shirt with sweat stains under the armpits. A thin, gold necklace looked tacky. He was holding a half-empty bottle of bourbon.

  He looked up at Smythe and said, "Who are you?"

  "A guy who has questions," Smythe growled. "Tell me about the 'Guaranteed Top Quality' sheets you're selling by the front door."

  The manager shrugged. "I don't know. They're just sheets." He looked very nervous.

  He was sitting on a chair. Smythe grabbed the front legs of the chair and yanked them out. The manager fell and landed hard on his back with his legs in the air. Smythe drew a .45 caliber semi-automatic from a holster under his jacket.

  "The next word out of your mouth better be the truth," he said in a low voice, "or it will be the last word out of your mouth. Tell me about the sheets!"

  The manager was gibbering with fear. "Some guys drop off a shipment every few days."

  "Guys?"

  "An outfit called Cloud of Silk Bedding. I don't know their names. I don't know anything about them."

  "Seems like a strange way to conduct business." Smythe cocked his gun.

  The manager bit his lip.

  "Talk!" Smythe looked down the gun sights at the manager's right eyeball.

  "I pay five dollars per box and sell them for ten," he blubbered. "Those are juicy profits, but the guys only take hard cash, and they don't like paperwork. No invoices. No signatures. No names."

  "Let me guess. The inventory is never recorded.
You just take the profits home."

  The manager gulped and nodded. "There's one other thing. We have to collect the names and addresses of everybody who buys the bedding. It's some kind of marketing thing. We give the list to the guys whenever they come by."

  "I need to meet these 'guys,'" Smythe said.

  "They don't tell me when they're coming! They just show up with a truck full of bedding. They may not be back for days."

  Smythe noticed a video display in the corner of the office. It showed a mosaic of four live surveillance feeds. A bulky recording device was attached.

  He pointed his gun at the surveillance system. "Do you have them on tape?"

  "Yes, sir." The manager nodded eagerly. "We keep recordings for five days. Store policy."

  "Show me."

  The manager got off the floor and worked the controls of the surveillance system. He sweated for several minutes until he found the right recording.

  He pointed at the screen. "That's them."

  Odelia took a close look while Smythe covered the manager with the gun. She rolled the recording back and forth.

  "Two men," she said. "They move like soldiers and have vests under their suits. Must be Unit K. This recording sucks! I can barely see their faces."

  She continued to go back and forth in the video. Smythe watched out of the corner of his eye and saw two men enter the front of the store. They were pushing a dolly loaded with white boxes. The manager came out to meet the men, and they had a short conversation. Money changed hands. The manager walked away. Finally, one of the men took out a phone and made a private call.

  "Stop!" Smythe said. "Freeze on that spot."

  Odelia froze the recording.

  With his free hand, he took out his phone and called Perry back at headquarters.

  "Sir?" Perry said.

  "I'm at the Lucky Dollar Store in Mount Prospect. An enemy soldier made a cell phone call from this location yesterday." Smythe took a close look at the time code on the surveillance recording. "At exactly 1:16 PM."

  "I'll check the cell tower logs." There was typing in the background. "Got it. He called a small village in the Gansu province of China."

  "Huh?"

  "I'm sure that was just a secure relay point," Perry said, "but I have great news. I have the number of the phone he used, and it's still producing a signal. I can triangulate his exact location."

  Smythe grinned. "Tell the boss." He hung up and faced the store manager. "We're going to leave now. Burn those sheets."

  "Why?" the manager said.

  "Because they're death. If you sell one more box, I'll come back here and break open your skull like a piñata."

  Smythe left the office, and Odelia hurried after him.

  "A piñata?" she said.

  "I'm in a mood," he muttered.

  They headed back to the car. He grabbed a box of sheets on the way out so he could analyze it in the lab.

  "Stop!" the cashier said. "Thief!"

  Smythe gave him a dirty look and continued out the door.

  Smythe and Odelia walked quickly through the wintry cold to reach the car. They sat inside, and he turned on the ignition. The engine was still warm, so the heater worked immediately.

  His phone rang, and he recognized Aaron's ID.

  Smythe pressed the speaker button. "Sir?"

  "Good work," Aaron said. "You're positive you found the enemy?"

  "Yes, sir. Unit K is selling sheets through a discount store. All the transactions were on a cash basis and strictly under the table. The names of victims were being collected and given to Unit K, presumably so they can send gift baskets."

  "I called other victims. They confirmed they had purchased new sheets recently from other discount stores."

  "That's great, sir," Smythe said. "I think we're finally making real progress."

  "It's about time. I want you and Odelia to come home. I'll take Tawni and Norbert with me and track the phone signal personally."

  "We saw two men on the tape. Are you going to capture them?"

  "That didn't work so well this morning," Aaron said. "I think I'll just follow them around and see where they lead us."

  "Yes, sir. Good luck."

  "Bye."

  Smythe put away his phone and faced Odelia. "We're off duty for the moment."

  "It's a shame we can't make good use of the time." She pouted. "Sex right now would be inappropriate."

  "A little smooching might be acceptable. We've been good soldiers and deserve a break. The costume storage room in headquarters is perfect for a discreet, romantic encounter."

  She smiled. "Drive. Hurry."

  * * *

  Aaron looked through binoculars at two men in a coffee shop. One was Asian, and he had an impressive torso. The other was a tall albino with unusually long limbs. They wore heavy winter jackets over business suits.

  They were sitting in the back corner where they had good views of all the exits. Their straight postures were pure military. The way they kept checking their surroundings also indicated they had spent a lot of time in hostile territory.

  Aaron was sitting in the driver's seat of a minivan. He glanced back. Norbert was in the middle, and he was taking pictures through a long, telephoto lens. Tinted windows helped disguise his activities.

  Tawni was across from him. She was sharpening her katana with a whetstone using a rhythmic motion. Aaron wondered why she was bothering. Her gift allowed her to make her sword infinitely sharp. Maybe it's a form of meditation, he thought.

  "What's going on between you two?"

  Norbert blushed. "What do you mean, sir?"

  "You know exactly what I mean," Aaron said.

  Norbert looked at Tawni and raised his eyebrows. He clearly expected her to explain.

  "It's nothing, sir," she said. "I'm just having a little fun with Norbert."

  "What kind of fun?" Aaron said.

  "She's hitting on me," Norbert said.

  Aaron cocked his head. This was an annoying development, but he didn't care enough to intervene. Norbert and Tawni were adults and could manage their own personal lives.

  "Just don't let this become a major distraction," Aaron said. "The team can't afford to lose focus right now. The twins certainly wouldn't understand."

  "Actually, they already know," Norbert said. "Jack told them."

  "How did they react?"

  Norbert appeared uncomfortable. He shot a few more pictures with the camera.

  "I asked you a question," Aaron said.

  "They, uh, gave me permission to sleep with Tawni if I really wanted to. They thought it was fair because we, uh—" He blushed again. "—haven't had sex in a long time."

  Tawni chuckled. "Sweet of them."

  Aaron gave her a hard look. "I think it's reprehensible of you to cheat on Sheryl while she's being held captive. It's like kicking her when she's down."

  "I never promised I would be faithful, sir." She frowned.

  "I'm sure Sheryl assumed it. And hitting on Norbert when you already know he loves the twins..." He shook his head and sighed. "I can't change what kind of woman you are, and I don't really want to, but I will insist you maintain positive relationships with your coworkers. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir. What kind of woman am I?"

  "A very talented legionnaire. One day you could be great, maybe even elite, but you need more discipline and maturity first."

  She furrowed her brow. "That didn't really answer my question, sir."

  "You want the truth?" He raised his eyebrows. "You're a cruel, uncivilized bitch, but that's fine. Every team needs one of those. That was Marina's job before she left. We're in a cruel, uncivilized business."

  Tawni frowned.

  "Really, I don't want you to change. On the other hand, you committed sexual harassment. If this were a real company, you'd be having a difficult conversation with human resources now. We're obviously not going to do anything like that, but I am ordering you to be more considerate with your friends."<
br />
  Tawni nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "I hope that's the last time we talk about this," Aaron said.

  He turned his attention back to the men in the coffee shop. Go home, he thought. Show us where you live.

  Chapter Nineteen

  With a final, hard shove on the door, Sheryl escaped from the elevator hoist room. Her hands had blisters from hours of chipping away at rust. Her gun was wrecked, and she left the scattered parts behind.

  She walked onto the landing of a narrow, wooden staircase, which creaked under her weight. She went down. Moving silently was very difficult on the old steps, but she took her time.

  She reached a door at the bottom and opened it very carefully. She saw a hallway with open doors on both sides. It seemed empty. She listened carefully for a long moment but heard nothing.

  She slipped into the hallway. She looked through the first door and saw a large room containing dozens of beds arranged in lines. It reminded her of an army barracks. Each bed had a footlocker or green duffle bags at the foot. The white sheets and blankets on the beds were tucked in and stretched tight.

  Only one of the beds was in use. A man was snoring softly towards the back of the room even though the lights were on.

  Sheryl padded silently over to him. He had taken off his weapons and had left them on a small, wooden table beside the bed. The collection consisted of two guns, two knives, and a compact assault rifle. She recognized the handguns as an expensive Russian model. I can't believe I know that, she thought. I spend too much time with Aaron. The smaller weapons had holsters.

  She took a knife, and using both hands, plunged it into the sleeping man's throat. She targeted the carotid artery specifically. He hardly made a noise as he died. She pulled the blanket over his face to conceal the wound.

  He had a duffle bag, and she decided to check it out. She found military and civilian clothes inside. An envelope held several passports issued by different countries. Another envelope contained cash in assorted currencies. A clear, plastic bag held dried, human fingers. She dropped it in disgust.

  He had an electric razor which gave her an idea. The dead man wasn't too much bigger than her. She could wear his clothes as a disguise. She picked out the cleanest fatigues in the duffle bag. She also grabbed the electric razor and a tub of brown shoe polish. She went off to find a discreet place to change.