The Queen and The Viper

by Adam C Mitchell

  “I’ve put a harbour crew from the Thirteenth Precinct. Their Lieutenant owes me a favour. I’ll get them to search every damn waterway and slipway we have in this city and heck maybe the whole Pacific too if nothing else pans out.”

  Sergeant Ellen drifted toward the door “I hope you beat me to it, Malone. This horrid stuff has kept me awake for months now, and I need my beauty sleep, don’t these idiots know that the inconsiderate bums. Seriously though Jack, if another innocent woman gets rubbed out at the hands of the nutcase or group of, there won’t be any stopping them. And if they stick to the usual calendar another woman will get killed soon. They’ve been spaced roughly a month apart, so I guess it figures right.” Jack frowned “I thought you said you’d hit a blind alley on it.”

  Peggy smiled tightly “Jack I didn’t say I was licked though did I. I’ve still not played my Ace card yet.”

  Chapter Two

  Ross Kirby was a hard-worker of sorts, even if his only source of employment was sordid murder. He stopped before a row of red brick houses, that lay at the back of a small factory complex on Portland Street, just around the corner from the Transcontinental pier and neighbouring docks. He glanced up and down the street, then cut quickly down a side alley that ran all the way along two rooming houses that rented by the week, and walked up towards a chain link fence. He glanced up and down the alley, before he opened the fences rusted gate. The rusted hinge sent a pained wail from its joints, echoing along the empty alley. This mind didn’t help the sense of dread he was still feeling. He glanced back one more time, wary and frightened. Ross could have sworn that someone was following him, or was it— something? He couldn’t tell any more. He swore he had seen something, something he took for a shadow, that seemed to dart down the alley behind him. If only briefly as the shadow had disintegrated like the whispering memory of a ghost. But to Ross Kirby, that shadow looked like an ominous giant, or flitting spectre. He did his best to shake off the foreboding feeling, chalking it up to nothing but his imagination. He went slowly up the small steps that led to the docking bay, of one of the small buildings and glanced up at the battered fading sign, that hung crooked over the loading doors, it read:

  LOCK AND MONROE

  REPTILE AND EXOTICS IMPORTERS AND DEALERS

  LIBERTY CITY.

  Ross quickly pulled a key from his pocket, his hands had a slight tremble as he put in the lock and opened the bay door. He entered quickly, closing the door behind him, as if his sorry life depended on it. Inside the loading bay’s main hall it was pitch black, but this wasn’t Ross’s first time here, this factory had become like a second home over the last few months since he’d been taken on. So with or without the lights. He knew where he was going. He walked first left, then right, then left again and finally up a staircase to the second floor of this dreary place, where a single faint light led him on. To a door marked simply ‘Office.’ he rapped on the door the signal for friend, one knock and a pause, followed by three knocks and another pause, then finished off with two more knocks,

  Ross thought it was daft, but did it anyway, the men inside were lining his pockets after all. Inside the room three men were all playing cards. He recognised them as Stackpole Locke, Joseph Monroe and their ‘contact’ from India, Edward Lance. Over cards they had been talking but now they all looked his way.

  “Christ, Ross, you look pale, quick grab a seat before you waste away, I know I’ll deal you in the next game.” Locke smirked “Lance was just telling us about our interests over in India and our other activities over there.” He grinned knowingly. Ross smiled and sat down as Monroe dealt him a poor hand of cards. Ross couldn’t help but notice Lance was angry.

  “Fine, be a sarcastic jerk.” Lance snapped. “But I tell you it’s happening. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know the police are onto us over in Bombay. There was a Brit out from here, and on my trail for a worrying few days, before I got a D6 and flew to London and then here. Yon know one the house checked on.”

  “What do they suspect you of?” Monroe jeered “maybe they think we’re harming our snakes or something” he laughed hoarsely “Listen here Lance, we vouched for you. Got you into the House, and thanks to use they made you an agent for this company. This front business the house owns needs you, you’re their Indian reptile importer. Remember!”

  “I know that, but it does look a tad suspicious when out of all the reptiles available out there, I only send back pythons. It makes people look, and people who look ask questions.”

  “If you’re yellow pal, we can always—” Monroe began coldly, suddenly the reptile importer jumped to his feet, knocking over the card table. His eyes blazing bright.

  “Monroe, if you want me to lie, that I’m not scared. I won’t’. For that matter, I’m not lying to or for you any more, and you can’t make me. So if that makes me yellow. I’m going to get out even if I have to play the House for it.” Locke and Monroe playfully nodded, as Ross sat on his chair and watched proceedings amused, even if he didn’t get the joke. Or what had gotten Lance’s back up. From what he heard Lance was a solid, dependable man on the overseas end of the front.

  “Hold on a second Lance.” Monroe purred softly “Maybe you're on the money pal? Maybe we misjudged you. We don’t want you to quit on us.”

  “No” Locke added with just a hint of dry wit to his voice “you can’t quit.”

  “well, I am doing.” Lance declared stubbornly then his voice became a mere whisper as he leaned forward “Have you ever heard of that killer, that so-called hero if you listen to the mush the paper say about him. This Viper?” Monroe and Locke looked dumbfounded, both shaking their heads.

  “Hey Ross, have you?” Ross just smiled as he picked the table back up

  “Oh yeah” he replied “Sure, he’s some guy who thinks he’s some kind of masked avenger to the masses like Lance said. He’s a bit dark, a bit of a ruthless lone wolf, from what I hear.” Lance nodded

  “that’s him, that’s The Viper!” But isn’t he meant to be in the land of the turbans elephants? You know India?” Ross added enjoying teasing the scared Lance.

  “You know what the tales are amongst the outfits. The last thing the House or anyone in the underworld knew, was that with a dame another so-called hero. The pair put down a Persian uprising, undertaken by the Red Circle and its death squads, and that was only three months back.”

  “Yes a few months back about the same time, this front started up, and I was flown over” Lance added “It was alright when we were doing it on the quiet. We got away with those emeralds and jewels, not to mention the solstice diamond. I was stoked knowing the setup for one part was foolproof. But I hadn't felt like that since a month back when I shipped out the Dragon’s Eye opal back here. The way I figure that’s one jinxed stone. It belonged to one of their royal family. I managed through a contract to hire a trio of dacoits, to steal it from there. After all, they have a different crook over there, buy that I mean they do everything differently. They like to slit throats if you follow, they do things differently I guess. Either way, they were paid. A little too well if you ask me, but they got it with only one of the trio getting whacked. Thankfully I was able to send the Dragon’s Eye through customs, inside one of regular snake freights.” Lance said before sitting down, pausing for a moment he continued. “After that shipment, the American popped up asking a lot of strange questions. But thanks to the houses contact, we were able to get around him. Thanks to this front being ironclad mainly. Then the Viper showed up—and the noose began to tighten. I could almost feel it around my neck. So deciding to ditch a third flight back over here, in case the airports we used were tag. Instead, I got the fastest boat instead, hoping to ditch any eyes that were on me. But I tell you any juvie could guess the answers from the fact that like I said we only shipped pythons!”

  Ross Kirby leaned forward “Anyway tell me about the Viper, Lance?” he asked frowning “What happened spill?”

  “The surviving two India
n crooks I hired, all got whacked. The day before I got the boat to London— both were killed with Viper Venom! Plus each of the pairs had small darts in their throats.”

  “Darts? What you mean darts?” Monroe echoed, feeling his own throat.

  Lance smiled cruelly finally happy a bit of his worry had crossed over to his cocksure partner. “Yes darts. The mark of The Viper. That killer, that loon. He uses darts always straight to the throat. He never misses, each dart apparently covered with noxious Viper venom. That’s how that devil got his name.” Monroe snarled

  “Listen, don’t let him get to you Lock, all this Viper nonsense is just an urban ghost story to spook whimpish crooks. I’ve had enough of this cock-and-bull yarn of yours Lance. You’re just dropping your balls, you're just using this nonsense to get an easy out. But it’s all in your head! Everything is fine and what’s more the Dragons Eye will be shipped safely tomorrow it would have been sooner as you both know, but the weather delayed everything.”

  “God damn it, it’s no yarn. I’m afraid” Lance cried “I’m quitting, Monroe. I’m out! I don’t want the money, or anything from you, or the blasted house. I just want out, and on with my life, you three can split my share, as frankly, I don’t care any more.” Locke rose steadily to his feet, his tone icy and menacing. Nobody saw his hand reach into his coat.

  “None of us can quit this Lance. Don’t you think we’ve all tired from time to time? But once the House has its claws into you, that’s it.” he warned, but Lance just looked at him coldly, evenly.

  “You heard me, Locke” he replied to the now angered Locke “When that crackpot Viper steps in, that’s my cue to pack up and leave. You got me, and that’s final.”

  Nobody heard the three shots from Ross’s pistol, well not until it was too late anyway. Three blazing hot brass lugs buried themselves, thanks to Locke’s nodded to their resident killer. All three shots expertly fired all grouped perfectly right into Lane’s chest. Lance stared at Locke believing he was the shooter. His dying stare a mix of fear, and odd acceptance. His lips moved soundlessly, struggling bravely to utter a few dying words. As blood poured trickled his mouth. Lances leg’s sagged, and he fell forward on his face. Crashing to the floor with a deadly thump. His body had no dead twitch, it just lay there still. Kirby wet his lips and put out the cigarette he had been smoking.

  “God, Ross you didn’t have to plug him” Monroe exclaimed in mild annoyance. “You shouldn’t have done it” Locke replied “Yes I was going for my gun, but only to shut him up. You know put the wind up him, Not kill him for God’s sake.” Ross shrugged and put his gun back in his denim waistband.

  “It was his own funeral either way you shine it. You told him we can’t afford dead weight. There’s too much cash in all this. Plus if the House found out they’d kill him—well—eventually. You know what they’re like after all, you played the game long enough. Besides, it’s now a three-way split, and dead men can’t squeal.”

  “Ross you killed him, you can get rid of him. Dump him off the cliffs, let the sea have him.”

  Ross sighed “Okay, boss,” he said.

  Peggy’s frustration had subsided and seemingly past onto the police Lieutenant.

  “So, are we going to work together, Peg.”

  That’s fine by me, but I warn you my Ace card, is a one girl thing sorry. I’ve entered into the Cherubs Hallo competition.” Jack jumped to his feet his chair falling backward, “Now what in blazes is that doll?”

  Peggy nodded calmly “Contentment’s current Newsletter has me in their competition to win pride of place on their boards and next issue.” she replied smiling.

  “Miss Mary William’s, single thirty-one. From New York. Pleasant disposition, capable housewife though suffering from slight spinal ailment. Occupation midwife. Anxious to meet amiable sober businessman under forty.” she said clearing her throat. “That ought to get his attention don’t you think Jack.”

  “Sergeant” Jack dropped his friendlier tone, instead now speaking with the authority his position gave him. “Just because you’re assigned the case it doesn't mean you should go all Max Baer on a potential serial killer, after all, your know boxer or whatever,” Jack said shocked and angered at her plan.

  “Sir… after all the greased up pimps and slime-balls the P.W.B have had me chasing up elevators and around subways. The cat and mouse game has got old, so running against a murderer will be a nice change of pace. Like I said this silly cat and mouse game to catch possible suspects hasn’t got stale. Plus those wasted hours of trudging through mugshot books to hopefully, nab our masher in the act, isn’t the only hard bit, Not when you realize half the worlds a bunch of twisted perverts and sadists..”

  “True, but that’s the kind of job only a woman can handle. Homicide isn’t really a good fit for the P.W.B, it’s a man’s job!” Jack said calming down, He didn’t believe it though but said it in case as was normal in a precinct like his, Walls had ears. Those ears if things went wrong would go straight to the papers or worse the top brass and it would be his neck on the block. Yet as he looked at the woman in his office Peggy’s got more about her than the entire bullpen of detectives here put together, she’s ‘man’ enough to tackle anything she wants and pull it off. He thought to himself not wanting to verbalize it, in case anyone heard outside. Morale and all was a dwindling resource these days.

  “No Sir. It’s my job to bust the agency open, and stop them doing their business this way. To stop innocent women getting scratched, instead of getting a husband of their own,”

  Jack’s tone became warm and mellowed again “you’ll find your man, we’ll close the case together— without you playing little Miss Mary Williams.”

  “But it still might not work. Trust me I’d like to think positive, but I have a hunch Mary Williams, thirty-one, still may have a role to play to get the evidence needed to sink these sick predators.” Jack looked at her concerned “doesn’t mean you have to marry this sick so-and-so, to nail him for all the murders.”

  “Jack, sorry I mean, sir” she could sense the rank starting to brew up again, not wanting to push things “I’ll go as far as I need to. Don’t forget I had a little sister who fell victim to a viper like our guy. After my father was murdered, a vile wolf like Henderson prayed on her, made her feel like a princess, made her think despite her loss, he’d be there, and everything would be okay. Until one night Lucy turned on the gas—without lighting it, Jack, don’t forget it was me who found my baby sisters body. I hate men like Henderson, more than I hate those back alley abortionists I rounded up last spring. At least them girl knew they were dicing with death. These poor girls though don’t realize the danger until the knife goes in.” There was a dull, searing pain in her eyes, but she fought back a tear and carried on, “But so far all these women don’t exist. There almost like ghosts. Every shred of documentary proof, certificates, licenses the lot has gone. Christ city hall doesn’t even have anything on them.”

  Jack was stunned “for god sake Peggy, you know the city ergs on infractions on city ordinances without a signed writ, especially when entrapment might be involved.”

  “Nothing criminal though about getting married, is there, Lieutenant?” Malone opened and shut his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead he just glared at her. When he spoke again any hint of humour or compassion was lost and replaced by the full weight of his position, over her.

  “You stupid woman, you let me know the second you decide to look for a white dress, any scrap of that nonsense and I will kick you to the curb and make sure the bureau takes your badge. GOT IT!”

  She saluted stiffly not expecting that “Yes, Lieutenant. Sir!” then she pivoted on her left heel and left his office. He left a minute behind her.

  Jacks personal police clerk was sat by the rail in the bullpen spoke, spoke out of the corner of his mouth to a plain clothes detective, one fingering a typewriter.

  “Blow me, sergeant, the Lieutenant musta’ just swallowed some of the god-awful of
fice coffee, from out the break room or something.”

  The detective looked. “Who Malone? No, he always looks like that when the police-woman Ellen gives him ‘no’ for an answer. He’s been carrying a burning torch for that doll so long. He sleeps standing up if you get me!”

  Chapter Three

  Ross Kirby didn’t catch the sedan tailing him that night, with his morbid cargo in his car as he drove out of the city towards the hills and cliffs. Kirby made sure to drive carefully all the way. Any accident or violation would bring sirens down on him, and he couldn’t have that. After all how would I explain his cargo he wondered, as he stopped briefly at a red traffic light. So yes Ross Kirby wasn’t going to take any chances. But the black sedan that tailed him, was tenacious. Following him discretely out past Brockley and Sunrise View. Both cars leaving the foothills in the distance, other than not seeing his tail, he couldn’t see it’s driver either. Which was a dark figure, with a cloak of shadow around him, shadows that concealed both his face and purpose that night. To a prowling coyote or stay dog, whose animal eyes could cut though the void of black, they would see the hawklike features of Anthony Rogers, but to the rest of the world that night they were hard to lock on to. Rogers was a Brit, a Londoner from Scotland Yard who had been assigned to the Bombay Department For Justice. A career choice he hadn’t relished, but like most things in his life, Rogers gave it his all. A high-forehead, pale going on tanned skin set him apart. His eyes gleamed a cold black in the night his face seemed to follow suit with his body keeping everything slim and sharp.

  He drove with perfect precision never shifting his dark eyes from their prey while fighting back the primal urges of his namesake. The Viper spirit that gave him his keen senses and strange almost bloodlust for injustice and the hunt. The spirit though to the Brit was both a blessing and a curse, yes it heightened his senses to an almost superhuman level. But the flip side to that spiritual power, was the spirit took over him completely, it was almost a symbiotic relationship both gained for a price on the other. But right now he needed to be in control, focusing his eyes locked on the red tail lights of the cadaver car— ahead of him. Kirby was now about ten miles outside the plush hamlet of overpriced homes known as Sunrise View, and was now sailing well past fifty miles an hour along a Westerly road that climbed up toward the cliffs that overlooked the sea. Then he quickly turned left making his car rock onto to wheels for a moment, before landing back down. Rogers followed suit at a his foot pressing down a shade harder on the accelerator, yet still kept him in view. It was then the Brit caught sight of the brake lights behind him. Kirby slowed the car down abruptly as Lances dead body tumbled lifelessly from the trunk falling a few feet down an inclined ditch. Not wanting to stop to retrieve his dead cargo. Kirby’s car suddenly burnt rubber. Sending a stream of dirt and stone in Rogers direction. He had vanished into the night, the black silhouettes of the trees swallowing his cars lights.