Kill: One - An Action Thriller Novel (Omega Series Book 7)

by Blake Banner

  He spread his hands and made a question with his face.

  I went on. “I should have realized a lot sooner. You are Alpha, aren’t you? These clowns…” I gestured at Beta, Delta and Epsilon. “These are the front men, but the real power was always with you. Maybe if I had realized that sooner…”

  “What will it take, Lacklan?”

  “The knowledge, the certainty, that you will not come after me or my family.”

  “You had that assurance and it was you who broke the deal.”

  I laughed. “How long would it have taken before you did come after me? A year? Two? Ten?” He didn’t answer so I went on, “And something else. An assurance, a certainty, that you will abandon the plan to manipulate people’s minds and rob them of their free will.”

  He shook his head. “We gave you and Marni the chance to make a difference there, and again you betrayed us. You pretend to sit in moral judgment on us, yet it is always you betraying, murdering, lying. Tell me, how could we ever give you that kind of assurance and certainty”

  I sighed. “You couldn’t. Ever.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s why you have to die.”

  I shot Fenninger first, right between the eyes. He didn’t move. He just sat there, looking astonished. Delta was next. He was getting to his feet, so the round went through his throat and crashed out through the back of his neck, destroying his vertebrae. Beta was half way across the room, running for the door. I put two rounds through his chest. He spun and staggered and fell, just like the stock market was going to do in the morning.

  Ben was on his feet, aiming at me with a Colt .45 automatic. He didn’t shoot. I looked him in the eye. “Why?” I asked him. “Why do you always hold back? Why have you always stopped short of killing me? Why did you come here tonight, with them, knowing I must, surely, kill you?”

  He didn’t answer at first. He just watched my face with an indecipherable expression on his own. There was pain in it, frustration and confusion. Finally he said, “You knew I would, so you must know why.”

  I shot him in the chest twice. He winced, then frowned down at the bleeding holes. He looked at me, still frowning, astonished, betrayed! Blood oozed from his mouth. He reached out for the sofa, as though to steady himself, but his eyes rolled back in his head and he keeled over onto the floor.

  I stood, filmed the scene on my cell phone, sent the file to Gantrie and left.

  * * *

  The reception area smelled of bleach. Maria was sitting in one of the armchairs, watching the TV. She looked up as I came in. She didn’t say anything, just watched me. I took my kit bag, with the Emperor and the magnetic license plates, to my room and stashed everything under the bed, then came back and stood looking at the TV screen. There was a young, dark-haired woman holding a microphone. Behind her red and blue lights were flashing in a slow, steady rhythm. The white gate to Fenninger’s house had been rolled all the way back so that the ambulances and patrol cars could get in and out. Cops in short-sleeved uniforms were standing around, talking to each other, looking bored. The yellow police tape swayed slightly in the pre-dawn breeze. It all looked very banal and dull, strangely at odds with what the reporter was saying.

  “…the detective I spoke to called it the most bizarre murder since Sharon Tate, but other people are saying that that doesn’t even begin to describe it. Marc, what started out as rumors only an hour ago have become a stark and shocking reality. I can confirm that Aaron Fenninger has been found, shot dead, with a single gunshot wound to the head, in his own living room…”

  A male voice broke in and the girl pressed her ear, trying to listen. “Jade, that is shocking, can you confirm whether he was alone? Was there anybody with him?”

  Jade nodded several times. “Marc, I can now confirm that Aaron Fenninger was not alone. There were other bodies found at the scene. And this is what makes this crime such a shocking one, and comparable in some ways to Sharon Tate. Not that the murder of a household name like Aaron Fenninger is not devastating in itself, but the people who were with him were none other than William Fencer, the IT magnate, CEO and founder of the PrimarySoft Corporation and widely reputed to be the single richest man in the world…”

  “Jade, forgive me interrupting again but I think a lot of our viewers will be reeling with the shock of this news. Are you saying—can you confirm for us—that Aaron Fenninger and William Fencer were both found, together, in Fenninger’s living room, at one AM this morning, both shot and murdered?”

  Jade was nodding again. “That is correct. That is correct, Marc. William Fencer had been shot, twice, through the chest. But it does not end there. Also in the room, also shot to death, was Myron Levy, creator, some would say legendary creator, of the social media phenomenon LetsConnect, who was killed by a single gunshot wound to the throat. Now it’s worth stressing, Marc…”

  “Jade, I’m sorry to keep butting in, but this is absolutely shattering news and I just want to be sure, for our viewers, that I am getting it straight. Was there anybody else in the room with Fenninger, Fencer and Levy?”

  “There are unconfirmed reports, Marc, that there was a fourth man, but it is all rather confusing because we are also hearing rumors that Aaron Fenninger was in fact hosting a party tonight at his home here in Malibu, and that there were a number of stars and celebrities here. It was apparently an informal gathering of friends and we are hearing that the fourth body might be that of one of those guests, celebrity names are being bandied about, but none of them has been confirmed. So, at this stage, all we know is that there may have been a fourth body. If there was a gathering, by the time we got here all of the guests had left, and the police are being extremely um, shall we say cautious with the information they are handing out.”

  “Jade, any clue as to who might have carried out this devastating, horrific attack?”

  Maria turned and looked at me. I ignored her. I was interested in what Jade would say.

  “Again, unconfirmed as yet, Marc, but there are unofficial claims that this might have been the work of the so called FMW, or Free Mind Warriors, who claimed responsibility recently for the bombing of the UBC building in New York and the murder of the partners at Intelligent Imaging Consultants in downtown L.A. just the other night.”

  Maria switched off the TV. “Is that your story? You are a terrorist?”

  I thought of Jim, shook my head and smiled. “No. I am a destroyer, not a terrorist.”

  “Did you kill those men?”

  “You don’t want to know. Don’t ask.”

  “They say this will damage the economy. The stock market will crash. PrimarySoft and LetsConnect could go bankrupt…”

  I shook my head. “That would be too good to be true. That’s not going to happen. Somebody will step into their shoes and take over. I’m going to have a shower.”

  I crossed the patio and went into my room, stripping my clothes as I went. I was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. I turned on the shower, but before I stepped in I called Marni’s secure number. She picked up after the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you watching the news?”

  “Lacklan! No… Should I be?”

  “Yes. Call Gibbons, tell him to watch too. Later today there will be a lot of footage going viral on the net. A man will contact you. He has all that footage. I can’t stay on much longer. Listen carefully. I need you to pay attention. Omega 1 has been annihilated. That’s Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon. Right now Omega is a headless chicken. You and Gibbons need to seize this, but Marni, be careful with Gibbons. He could become another Alpha.”

  “Jesus… Are you OK?”

  I didn’t answer for a moment, then I said, “Yeah, I’m OK. Now listen to me. You heard about UBC.”

  “Yes. Was that you?”

  “No. A Stanford professor is going to contact you and Gibbons. Jim Redbeard. He could be helpful to you.”

  “Lacklan, I thought you were through with all this…”<
br />
  “I’m doing what I need to do to end it.”

  I hung up and went to the shower. I stood under the hot water for ten minutes, trying not to think. Trying not to relive the events of the night but they were there, living, burning ghosts in my mind. Finally I stepped out and started drying myself. I poured myself a whisky and sat on the bed to drink it. My eyes were closing. I wondered if I was drunk.

  There was a knock on the door and before I could answer Maria stepped in. She looked worried. “A couple of detectives are here to see you.”

  I frowned, pulled on some jeans and a shirt and crossed the patio to the reception. There were two plainclothes cops there. The older one was wearing a cheap, off the peg suit with vinyl shoes and a polyester tie. His partner was ten years younger and wearing jeans and a polo shirt. They both showed me their badges and the older one spoke. “My name is Detective Fernandez, this is Detective Olsen. Is that your ’68 Mustang parked outside, sir?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, why?”

  “Would you mind telling us your name, please?”

  I hesitated a moment. “Walker. Lacklan Walker. You want to tell me what this is about?”

  Fernandez nodded while Olsen made a note. “You from L.A.?”

  I sighed noisily. “I’m going to answer your question, Detective. Then you are going to tell me why you are asking, or this conversation is finished. I’m from Boston. Now, why the questions?”

  “A car matching yours was involved in a homicide earlier tonight.”

  I shook my head. “My car was not involved in any homicide tonight, Detective Fernandez. Did your witness get a license plate?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Have you compared it with mine?”

  “Not yet, I thought I’d like to talk to you first.”

  “Well, now you’ve talked to me, how about we have a look at the license plate and then you let me sleep?”

  Fernandez turned to Olsen. “Have a look, run’em.” Olsen left and Fernandez asked me, “You mind telling me what you’re doing in L.A., Mr. Walker?”

  “Minding my own business, Detective. And that’s exactly what it is, my business and none of yours.”

  His eyes narrowed and grew hostile. “Where were you tonight between ten and one?”

  “I just told you it’s none of your goddamn business…”

  Maria put a hand on my arm. “Lacklan, you are only going to make things worse with that attitude. The detectives are not interested in your personal life. They are investigating a homicide…” She turned to Fernandez. “He was with me, Detective. He came in…” She turned to Don, who was leaning on the reception desk, watching us. She said, “What? Half past ten? It was after the police left…”

  He nodded. “About ten thirty.”

  Maria turned back to Fernandez. “He came in and we went to his room. We stayed together in the room until half an hour ago.”

  He glanced over at Don, who nodded his confirmation. Then he scowled at me. “Couldn’t you have told me that?”

  “So you could go and tell my wife?”

  “Ah! Gimme a break!”

  Olsen came in. “Plates don’t match, Al. Car’s registered to Lacklan Walker of Weston, Massachusetts. Hood’s cold. Car ain’t been used in a while.”

  Fernandez stared at me a long time. All his instincts were telling him that something was wrong, but he hadn’t a shred of evidence other than his gut. He turned to Maria.

  “You had a problem earlier, you said?”

  She shrugged. “Some gang members came in, threatening us, wanting protection or something.” She grinned over at Don, like she was real proud of him. “Don was real brave.”

  Fernandez looked at me. “Where were you?”

  “Out.”

  “Out where?”

  “Outside.”

  “Where outside, wiseass?”

  “You got some reason why you need to know?”

  He had no answer for that, so he scowled at me again.

  I said, “I didn’t think so, so how about you get off my back and go look for the owner of a Ford Mustang that has a hot hood and the right plates?”

  He grunted, muttered something to Olsen and they went outside, climbed in their car and took off down the road.

  I looked at Don, then Maria. “Thanks. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Don shrugged, staring down at the counter. “You ain’t in my hair.” Then he looked up. “Where’d you learn that stuff?”

  “It’s a long story. They’re not skills you really want to learn.” I thought about it a moment and added, “Maybe they’re not skills at all. Maybe it’s just a state of mind.”

  He frowned, like he didn’t really know what I meant.

  I shrugged. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

  In my room I stripped, sat on the bed and drained the last of the whiskey. I knew what was going to happen next, and I didn’t have the strength to fight it. There was a tap at the door. I said, “Come in.”

  It opened and Maria was there, holding a bottle of Bushmills and two glasses. She held up the bottle for me to see. “This is the one you like, right?”

  I nodded. “But I am really tired, Maria, and I really am married.”

  “It’s OK, Gringo, I just came to say goodbye.” She stepped inside and closed the door with her foot. Then she stood looking at me a moment. “Lacklan Walker of Weston.” She put the glasses on the bedside table, poured a measure into each and handed me one. “So you are a real person after all.”

  I took the glass and stared at it. Then I touched her glass with mine. “Yeah. I guess, after all, I am a real person now.”

  We drank. And then I slept.

  Alone.

  EIGHTEEN

  I was at my desk, looking through the leaded windows at the lawn outside. It seemed unnaturally vibrant and green in the sunshine. My study was dark by contrast, except for a patch of light that lay, like one of Dali’s clocks, warped across the corner of my desk, crisscrossed with twisted shadows. Small columns of dust drifted in the rays of light that leaned in through the leaded glass to form it.

  I leaned back in my leather chair and sighed. The phone I held to my ear remained stubborn in its silence. I saw the minute hand on the old clock on my wall inch forward. Then there was the sound of somebody sitting down and the receiver rattled.

  “Mr. Walker?”

  “Sheriff.”

  “I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long. There really is nothing I can add to what I have already told you. Our records indicate that there were three bodies at the scene. Not four.”

  I sighed. “You are the sheriff for the Lost Hill and Malibu area…”

  “Yes, sir. I already told you that.”

  “So you, personally, must have been present at the scene…”

  “Like I already told you, Mr. Walker, I cannot comment on an open investigation. What is your interest in this case, sir?”

  “I’m writing a book, and I have reliable information that there was another body.”

  “What information? You are aware that withholding information pertaining to a murder investigation…”

  “My source has already spoken to your people. That’s why I am surprised that you have no record of a fourth body.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “Mr. Walker, sir, this conversation is going in circles. I have given you all the information that I can. There was, categorically, no fourth body. Now you have a great day.”

  The line went dead. Kenny must have been waiting outside because as soon as I hung up there was a tap on the door and it opened. He stepped in.

  “Sir, the senator and Miss Marni have arrived. I have shown them into the drawing room.”

  “Bring them in here, will you, Kenny?”

  “Shall I serve coffee, sir?”

  I nodded and he went away. I stood and went to the window. From here the green looked less intense. I could make out small meadow flowers. The gardener walke
d past pushing a barrow. He was still working on the orchard. I felt a moment’s guilt because I didn’t know his name. Abi knew his name. To me he was just the gardener.

  A voice behind me made me turn. Kenny was closing the door and Senator Cyndi MacFarlane was standing looking at me, and by her side was Marni.

  I went to them and we kissed on the cheek, hiding the stiff, awkward formality which we felt. I gestured toward the nest of chesterfields which sat around the cold fireplace. “Kenny is bringing coffee,” I said. “If you’d rather something else…”

  They muttered that coffee was fine and we sat. They both watched me. I spread my hands. “You are both old friends. Abi and I are going to be married, as you both know, and your visit here is simply as old friends to congratulate us. This conversation never happened. That goes,” I said, looking at the senator, “for you especially, Cyndi. You cannot be a party to what I am about to tell you.”

  Marni’s cheeks had colored slightly. “Philip should have been a part of this conversation, Lacklan.”

  “I don’t trust him. His ambition is out of control. You can tell him whatever you like, once you leave here. But you must both know that there are parts of this story which I will deny, and which can never be proved.”

  They nodded.

  “I went to L.A. and I murdered Alpha, Beta, Delta and Epsilon. The murders you have heard about at Aaron Fenninger’s house were those murders.”

  Marni nodded. “We had our suspicions about William Fencer, and Levy,” She shook her head. “But, Lacklan, what about Alpha?”

  “My man sent you the footage. You saw the fourth body.”

  Cyndi made a face. “You can see a body, Lacklan, but with all due respect, it isn’t clear at all.”

  I turned to Marni. “It was Ben.”

  She sat forward. “Ben?”

  “Working behind the scenes all along. A double bluff. It explains the power he had, the way he used to order senior members around. It struck me when we were in the Omega office in Washington, the way he spoke to the former president was odd, to say the least[3]. But the penny never dropped.”