The Specter

by Saul, Jonas

  “Then teach me all that karate stuff,” Julie said as she moved her arms up and down and in circles trying to imitate Bruce Lee and looking like a human windmill. Aaron fought hard not to laugh.

  “Were you going to laugh?” she asked. “Watch yourself, I could get you,” she lunged in playfully, Aaron easily sidestepping her advance. He grabbed Julie, hugged her to him and spun them in unison to the wall away from the front door. She gasped and settled into his arms for a moment.

  Then the floodgates opened. It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach as he bent over and slipped to his knees.

  “Joanne’s dead,” he mumbled, his lower lip shaking. “My sister is dead because someone stole a piece of luggage and went to where … she works and …” He sobbed, wiped his eyes and tried to speak. Julie patted his shoulder in a gentle consoling manner. “She was innocent,” he continued, “I was going to get her out of that life. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Joanne. I should’ve done more.”

  Aaron lowered himself even farther, lying out on the carpeted floor of Julie’s house and cried. He cried for all the missing years, for what his parents did to him and his sister and what society had allowed to happen to his family. It wasn’t the best time to lose control—but he couldn’t pick the time his emotions would bowl over. Having not slept much, the adrenaline rush of last night gone and discovering that his sister was probably killed to hide someone’s secret, and he lost control. How more unjust could the world be?

  Julie walked away and came back a moment later with a Kleenex for him. He wiped at his puffed-up eyes, dabbing at the moisture collected around the lids. After a moment, he picked himself up off the floor, walked over, and eased back onto the couch.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why did this have to happen? I loved my sister so much.” The tears tried to break free again. It was the first time he had truly wept for Joanne since her voice message all those days ago.

  “I’m sorry,” Julie offered. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  He stared at the Kleenex in his hand, embarrassed that he had broken down in front of her. He needed to leave. He needed to be alone for a while and then he needed to talk to Folley. After that, he would sleep at home, not in his car, and then he would find out who was behind the killing of his sister. Someone had to be accountable.

  He rose from the couch and approached the hall. “I should go.”

  “You going to be okay?” Julie asked.

  He nodded, still looking down at the Kleenex, twisting it through his fingers. “Yeah. I gotta deal with this.” He met her eyes. “I can do it. It’s just hard, you know. Real hard.” The tears threatened again for a moment.

  “I understand. Here, let me get you my phone number if you want to talk. You can call me. I’ll get a pen and paper in the kitchen—”

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  Aaron reached out and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him and away from the open hallway where anyone at the front door would see her if it were open. “You expecting anyone?” he whispered into her ear.

  Julie shook her head. He could feel the fear coming off her as her body shook.

  Could whoever was behind the carnage of the last few days work that fast? Did they have unlimited amounts of hit men out there just sitting around waiting for the next assignment? Or was it a Jehovah’s Witness spreading the word? If it was, he needed someone to punch.

  She curled up inside his arms for the protection he offered. He could smell her, feel her and yearned to not let her go.

  No one is going to get this girl. Not with me around.

  He moved his mouth down close to her ear. “Stay here. Don’t move into the hall or whoever is at the front door might see you through the shadows in the peep hole.”

  She nodded and slipped out of his grasp. He eased up on the left side of the front window and knelt down. If the unknown visitor watched the living room window for movement, they would be staring at the height of where they would expect a head to be. They wouldn’t be staring at the bottom left corner.

  He moved the curtain back ever so slightly and only using his right eye, peeked around the edge of the window’s trim.

  A man in a long black overcoat stood at the door, his hands clasped together in front of him. He wore black gloves on his hands, which seemed strange for this time of year.

  The man knocked again. The human eye is drawn to movement, so Aaron turned slowly to look in the driveway and the road beyond, but saw no vehicle. Maybe the man was a salesman of some kind doing his door-to-door thing. He could be a spreader of the Good Word religious freak or even a nice neighbor asking for a cup of sugar. Whoever he was and whatever his intentions were, Aaron felt a certain unease.

  Ever so slowly, he angled his head to look at the unwanted visitor.

  The man stared back at Aaron. He smiled and raised his hand. In it there was a long piece of steel that glinted in the sunlight.

  The gun fired.

  Aaron barely had time to register what was happening. The sharp tone of glass breaking an inch from his face pierced the air. Wood chipped off the trim where his face had rested less than a second before.

  He rolled onto his back, pushed into a roll and flipped up, landing in his stance. Julie let out a short shriek before she covered her mouth and stared at Aaron as if he’d been shot. Her glazed eyes were wide in fear and shock.

  “We have to go. Now,” Aaron shoved her out of the paralysis of fear even while his legs turned rubbery. He hated the thought of dealing with guns. Why couldn’t the goons show up with some other weapon?

  He held Julie’s wrist and guided her to the back of the house. His mind raced over possible escape routes. He remembered the yellow house directly behind Julie’s, but it was some kind of caged-animal zoo. That wouldn’t fare well.

  When they reached the kitchen, he heard the bolt disengage on the front door.

  “Shit, he’s picking the lock.”

  Whoever had sent this man didn’t want anyone alive knowing anything about what Frank Weeks found in that piece of luggage, Aaron was sure. These people were serious hired assassins who would stop at nothing. He was in way over his head.

  “Is there an easy way out through the back? A fence we can jump or a path through to another back yard? Anything?”

  Julie stammered for a moment, her eyes wild and unclear. She was losing self control fast. He had to get her out of the house while she was still on her own two feet. Collapsing on him wouldn’t be good.

  Aaron glanced over his shoulder. The doorknob lock turned back and forth as the goon tried to gain access. They were down to seconds.

  Aaron ran across the kitchen and ripped open the back door that led out onto a patio. He motioned for Julie to come outside. She followed slower than he wanted, but once outside, he shut the door behind them.

  “Run to the back of your yard and climb the fence. Find shelter on that street and wait for me. Now go!”

  “But what about you—”

  “Go!” he ordered.

  Aaron moved the barbecue out of the way so he could climb onto the deck’s railing. He stood to his full height and then grabbed the eaves trough on the edge of the roof above his head. With a strong push off with his feet, he lifted himself onto the edge of the roof, kicked his right foot up so his leg was parallel with the ground, and then rolled onto the black shingles. He lay on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky. His heart raced as fear set in. It wasn’t minutes ago that he was crying like a baby in Julie’s living room and now he was on her roof with a gunman inside the house, hunting them.

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t risk any noise that would give away his position. He may already know as Aaron wasn’t sure how much noise he had made getting up or how close the gunman was.

  He lifted his head and scanned the backyard.

  Julie was nowhere in sight.

  He hoped she got out of the yard. He needed her running down the other street, awa
y from the danger.

  Aaron knew this plan was dangerous, but he couldn’t allow thugs to keep showing up with guns. Eventually they would achieve their goal. He had to send the message that whoever they sent would end up in the hospital being questioned by the police.

  He laid his head back, closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He needed to calm down. He needed to be in control to have any chance of success.

  A loud crash came from inside the house. His heart rate increased again, and he had to take deep breaths through his mouth. Beads of sweat rose on his forehead and face as the afternoon sun beat down on him. He rubbed his hands on his pants to keep them dry and waited.

  The back door opened hard and slammed shut. Aaron had to assume the intruder was standing on the deck directly below him. He waited for a count of three and then slowly peered over the side.

  The deck was empty.

  Fuck.

  He waited, listening. A minute passed. The only sound was the traffic in front of the house. No dogs barked, no kids played, no adults argued in any of the houses nearby. It was like this one city block detected the danger and remained quiet, waiting for it to dispel.

  Something moved below him. He chanced a look and caught sight of the man’s arm. He stood near the barbecue.

  He’s good. If there was a trap, he waited for it to be sprung like a professional.

  Aaron had moved the barbecue so he could jump to the roof. The man might be putting it together. He had to decide: move away from the edge, jump down onto the guy or just see what he was doing now?

  He needed to look first and then decide what to do. There was something about lying out on Julie’s roof that suddenly didn’t feel safe.

  When he edged around to look down at the deck, the man was gone. He leaned over farther and took in the whole deck.

  Nothing.

  If he climbed down, ran next door, hopped the fence, he could call for Julie and make a run for his car. They could drive directly to Folley and have the police attend to the unwanted visitor.

  Or was Aaron being played? Did the man figure Aaron was on the roof and now he’s sitting back, waiting for Aaron to climb down so he could shoot him? How smart and professional was the shooter?

  Knowing he couldn’t spend the afternoon on the roof, Aaron got in position to climb down. He removed his shirt and leaned over far enough to wave the shirt in front of the kitchen window. Getting a bullet in the shirt was a lot better than getting a bullet in the leg as he climbed down.

  He waved it twice and got no response.

  Does he think we ran away, so he’s gone?

  He put his shirt back on, took a deep breath and lowered his legs over the edge. The black shingles smelled of tar. He hurriedly kicked below searching for the railing to stand on. His right foot made contact. He applied pressure and put his full weight down on the railing.

  Cold steel pressed against his right temple. Normally a foreign object coming this close to his face, this fast, and Aaron would block it, but both his hands were under his chest, supporting his upper body as he had waited to step onto the railing. Now, though, any sudden movement would startle the gunman, who had climbed onto the roof and walked up behind Aaron.

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “What girl?”

  The intruder pulled a cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open and aimed it at Aaron’s face.

  “Smile.”

  The cell phone clicked as the man took Aaron’s picture.

  “What’s that for?” Aaron asked. “Your perverted picture collection?”

  “I always take a photo of my victims a few seconds before I kill them to show proof of life. Then I take a photo of the corpse. That way I get paid without delay and there’s no confusion that I did my job. Now, where’s the girl?”

  He dropped his cell phone back in pocket.

  “What girl? You want more pics for your masturbation session later?”

  The intruder pulled the weapon back to pistol-whip Aaron with it, but the second the gun lifted away from his temple, Aaron shot out an open-palmed right hand, into the man’s shin, right below the knee, searching for impact with the same nerves a doctor would tap with a hammer.

  It worked. Before the gun could smack Aaron in the face, the intruder’s leg jerked under him. He slipped to the edge of the roof with a curse, about to fall. He let go of the gun, grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and held on.

  Aaron turned to knock the hand loose but the man’s grip held. Both men lost their balance in unison with the intruder going down first. Aaron tried to gain his balance on the thin railing, but fell to the grass five feet below. He landed hard, half on top of the gunman who scrambled toward his fallen gun.

  Aaron smacked the man in the throat hard enough to stop him, but not hard enough to collapse his trachea. He sat on the gunman’s stomach and twisted the man’s arms under his knees where they remained pinned.

  Gasping with the fear, the fall and the exertion, Aaron waited a few seconds before asking his first questions. The intruder tried to raise his legs high enough to pull Aaron off, but Aaron expected that move and elbowed both the man’s knees, then drove two very hard fists into the intruder’s stomach to remove the fight still inside him.

  To encourage the intruder to answer his questions and stop squirming under him, Aaron grabbed the man’s hair with his left hand, pulled hard enough to keep his head still and then placed his right thumb over the man’s eye and applied a soft pressure at first.

  “Who are you?”

  The eye not under Aaron’s thumb bulged, but his mouth didn’t move. He squirmed under Aaron, trying hard to move his head away from the prying thumb, but Aaron held firm and pushed harder. The free eye opened more and the intruder growned.

  “Who are you?” Aaron asked again.

  The man tried to swing his head back and forth to dislodge Aaron’s thumb, but Aaron’s grip was too tight. Aaron had never actually popped anyone’s eyeball out before, but he’d been trained how to. He wondered how that would look to the judge when he stood before him in court on the attempted murder charge. Then he wondered if he would even be in court if he didn’t find out who these people were. Eventually one of them would get lucky, and then Aaron would join his sister. The thought of his sister made him push harder.

  The man screamed and flailed under him. Aaron saw his thumbnail had dipped deep enough to be inside the man’s orbital socket. Mucus mixed with clear liquid and blood seeped out around his thumb.

  “Tell me who you are and why you’re here or lose your sight completely. Might be hard to do your job blind”

  The man squirmed violently and whimpered, more blood trickling past Aaron’s thumb.

  He lifted his thumb out and placed it over the man’s other eye. As it touched down and started to press in, the man screamed.

  “Okay, okay, wait!”

  Aaron eased off. A dog barked in the yard behind them. Aaron took a quick scan of the backyard but couldn’t see Julie.

  “The man who hired me … is Clive Baron.”

  Aaron kept his thumb hovered over the man’s one good eye. He looked like he was about to pass out. The bad eye wasn’t as circular as it used to be. Aaron’s stomach churned at what he’d done to the man’s eye, but he could live with it.

  “Who is Clive Baron and why is he after Julie?”

  “He’s a billionaire … imports vodka into Russia … called and gave me a list of people to deal with …”

  Vodka? There’s that connection again.

  “Where’s the list?”

  “Memorized it …”

  Bullshit.

  “How many more of you are there?”

  “No … idea.”

  The man was fading fast. The blood seeping from his open eye wound was slowing, but Aaron knew the pain in the man’s head would be intense.

  “Why does he want people killed?” Aaron asked. “Why not just leave us alone?”

  The man’s only good eye rolled up
and the lid closed, his head tilted slightly to the side.

  Aaron lifted his knees off the man’s arms and moved down his body, feeling for a wallet or some kind of ID. Aaron pulled a piece of paper from the man’s pants pocket, a list of seven names and addresses in pencil.

  Memorized it, my ass …

  Aaron shoved the list in his pocket and double checked the rest of the man’s pockets. Finding nothing else, he grabbed the gun off the grass and ran back through the house to the front door. After making sure the front was clear, Aaron opened the door and walked along the sidewalk to the side street where he parked his car.