Succubus Tear (Triune promise)

by Andreas Wiesemann

  He needed a plan. And although he needed help, Cain was sure he couldn’t ask Stella or even Charlie to help him do this. Shit, they probably wouldn’t even believe half the things he would need to explain in order to get them to agree to do so.

  Cain needed an advantage. He needed some way to distract or incapacitate. He got up to relieve himself in the bathroom, and checked his voicemail.

  Hello, Mister Lamentson, this is Walter Stratton. Sorry to have missed you. I will actually be able to receive you at any time tomorrow, Saturday, or next week, beginning Monday. The law office is open eight till six and closed Sundays. Excuse me, ten till six on Saturdays due to building maintenance, and waste removal.

  He returned from the bathroom, Charlie’s building on the game had another dump truck mow down his metal shutter...

  That’s it. That was the advantage he needed. It was likely there would be a security system in the office itself, but the garage might have a lower priority if there were no cars. All he needed…was a dump truck.

  “What are you doing?”

  Cain looked up. “I’m packing my stuff and Al’bah’s stuff into these bags.”

  “Plan on going somewhere?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  Cain stood up. “I’m going to get Al’bah back tomorrow. Is that so bad?”

  Stella lowered her gaze. “I-I guess not, Cain, but you do know that I will be following you. And, if you do find her, I’ll have a lot of questions to ask her.”

  Cain nodded. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 32

  Difference between Law and Good

  “People die all the time; it’s best to get full use out of them.”

  —Shane Harper

  —Walter Stratton

  “You have an appointment at five o’clock.”

  Shane Harper looked up from the card to the Stratton Law Firm. Now why on Earth would the Stratton Law Firm want to see me? I sure hope it hasn’t anything to do with my father. That business was done with years ago.

  He tried the door, half expecting it to be locked, and was surprised that it wasn’t. The office looked as though it was undergoing a sort of cleaning. There were dozens of people drying off various pieces of furniture and collecting all sorts of books to be carefully dried.

  There, seated behind an obsidian reception desk, sat a beautiful blonde lady. She looked up from a crossword puzzle and smiled brightly. “Good evening, monsieur, I am Jeannette Telannis. How can the law offices of Stratton help you?”

  “Ma’am,’” Shane said as he tipped his hat and then removed it. “The precinct nearby had this card for me,” he said, handing it over.

  “Ah yes! Monsieur Walter Stratton would like to speak with you, if it is not too much trouble, Monsieur Harper.”

  “No trouble, I got time.”

  “Wonderful, please wait here. I shall inform Monsieur Stratton that you have arrived.”

  Shane moved aside as the cleaning crew moved by with a large box of books to be dried. “Say, what happened here, buddy?” he asked one of the workers who was looking at him.

  The man was about to speak when Jeannette returned. “Monsieur Stratton will see you,” she said warmly and gestured with her hand.

  “Now hold up,” Shane said, glancing between Jeannette and the man. “What happened here?”

  “Purification, and the fire system was tripped earlier by burnt popcorn. I’m just here to clean and dry stuff,” the man said.

  Shane looked back to Jeannette and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Monsieur Shane Harper,” Jeannette said as she opened the door and gestured to one of the chairs.

  “Ma’am. Sir.” Shane nodded, acknowledging them both.

  “Thank you, Jeannette.”

  “Merci,” Jeannette said, but didn’t leave the room.

  Shane sat and waited; he loved how people would give away so much more to a stone than a babbling brook.

  “Shane Cole Harper, former Texas Ranger, now an agent for the FBI, Narcotics and Homicide Division. A higher ranking commando of a sort, though it isn’t an official rank,” Walter said, extending his hand. “It is good that we meet face-to-face at last.”

  “You are quite informed, but I think you have me at a disadvantage here,” Shane said, taking Walter’s hand. “I hardly know anything about you.”

  “I am sure you know more then you let on. But, if you forgive me, I am going to have to insist that you leave your eighteen sixty-seven Stetson with Miss Telannis.”

  “What for?” Shane said suspiciously, as his hat wasn’t in sight.

  Walter smiled like a viper. “Come now, Agent Harper,” Walter said smoothly. “I am a very private man, and I don’t like it when my conversations are recorded.” He nodded to Jeannette.

  Well I’ll be damned! This is a first, Shane thought to himself. “Now you take care of that, ma’am. It’s been in my family for seven generations now,” he said, handing over the hat to her.

  “Of course, Monsieur!” Jeannette said warmly and left the room.

  Shane looked back at Walter. “And yours?”

  Walter stood and grabbed a crystal decanter and two glasses. “Fifty-year-old scotch, would you like a drink?”

  “Just one.”

  Walter set the barware down next to a beautiful chess set on a side table. He poured a generous amount in both tumblers. The room immediately filled with the tantalizing aroma that only scotch can produce. The pleasing amber fluid and scent drew his eye again to the chess set. The board appeared to be a complex interlocked stone work of black and white marble. The white pieces were polished silver, and the black-

  “Hematite, not very rare, but I like the color, and I like playing black it has the better tactical advantage.”

  “You play?” Shane said pointing to the set.

  “After a fashion. I only play reverse chess now.”

  Shane looked up, “Come again?”

  Walter shrugged, “Regular chess is quite a…diversion. But, the best games I ever played were games I lost, but lost by manipulating every move my opponent made.”

  Shane heard of chess like that. It was said to be a madman’s game. He quickly drew upon the sterotype Texan and feigned ignorance. “Ya lost me.”

  Walter picked up a piece. “For every move there is a counter move. I manipulate, and maneuver my opponent to win against me. But, I am the one who ultimately controls my opponents. How can I lose if I control both sides of the board? I don’t, Agent Harper. I. Never. Lose.”

  “So you throw every game? That ain’t too bright.”

  Walter shrugged, “Perhaps we can play sometime, and I will show you. At anyrate, I don’t record my conversations, Agent Harper. As a lawyer, you can imagine I am involved in enough dirty business. I cause enough trouble as it is without blackmailing my clients, their opponents, or leaving the possibility of being blackmailed myself if recordings were to change hands.”

  By now the aroma of Scotch in the air was so tantilzing Shane had to swallow, or risk salivating like a half starved hound. Walter gestured to the tumblers, and continued to speak. “That is why I only involve myself in property. I am finished with silly notions of justice, innocence, guilt, law and order.”

  “That is an interesting statement for a lawyer,” Shane said, sniffing the drink and taking a sip.

  Magnificent.

  “It is, but you will also notice that Jeanette did not use the phone lines to inform me of your arrival? I wanted to see if you would agree to a mutually beneficial arrangement that is”—Walter gestured with a head tilt and a swirl of his tumbler—“slightly beyond the bounds of the law.”

  “Oh? And what would you have me do?”

  “All in due time. I want to tell you what I will give you first. I know of two traitors in the local precinct. They just happen to be under the payroll of the cartel you have been trying to bring down. In fact, I think you already have your suspicions of who they are.”

/>   Shane waited; he wasn’t going to let the fine scotch running through his blood take away his concentration or resolve.

  “They are going to attempt a major delivery near the airport at about four in the morning. Strange, considering current events, but as you already know, the Tal-Voh excels at taking risks.” Walter produced a manila folder. “This has everything you need to catch them and several key members.”

  “And what do you want in return?” Shane said, his mind racing.

  “I want you to pull some strings with the district attorney, and whoever you have to, to allow an accessory to a spree killer to leave the county with no threat of extradition.”

  Shane choked on his sip. “And who would this accessory be?”

  Water smiled like a viper again. “Stella Fullson and or Charlie Tsukada.”

  “Stella Fullson? An accessory to a spree killer? Since when did Charlie become an accessory to a killer? I would have known.”

  Walter leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingers together. “Oh yes, I forgot to mention that this killing hasn’t happened, yet.”

  “Well, when will it happen then?” Shane said, leaning in close.

  Walter sipped his scotch and sighed appreciatively. “Oh, about the exact time as the delivery for the cartel.”

  Walter leaned forward, circling his finger on the crystal tumbler, making a low ringing sound. “I guess you’re gonna have to choose which one you want more.” He produced two more manila envelopes.

  “This one has every likely escape route the spree killer could take. I’d say it would take about sixty percent of the nearby precincts to cover them all.” Walter poured himself another shot. “The cartel will have about twice that many guarding the shipment. Sending anything less than every available SWAT and tactical officer would be a bad blunder. It would result in dead men, and the big dogs getting away.”

  Walter pointed to the second manila envelope that was sealed. “Although I suspect your new status as a hero will carry enough weight to sway the district attorney, strange things can happen. This envelope has enough blackmail on the current DA to give your request more than just a passing glance.” He set it down. “I’d suggest not opening that—it’s best if you didn’t know.”

  “Where do you get your information?” Shane asked in a low voice. “And why are you bringing all this to me?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Shane’s jaw dropped. “You’re not kiddin’.”

  “Oh, I see no reason to not tell you. In fact, I think you’d make that much better a pawn if I do tell you.”

  “I’m no one’s pawn!”

  “We can argue that point later. Do you want to know?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Everything that is sitting on this desk has been orchestrated by me.”

  Shane’s mind barely comprehended what he heard; as his gears tried to handle this monkey wrench, Walter continued to speak.

  “As for the two traitors, I was the one who got them in the Tal-Voh. The district attorney should never have attended that party I invited him to. Why, even you, Agent Harper. I kept my eye on you, ever since I first met your father. But, you haven’t been on my active radar until you took down one of my best smugglers with that boat trick you pulled off nine years ago.”

  Walter stood and poured Shane another round and placed the decanter away. “Not that I hold a grudge—grudges are most unproductive.” He sat down. “You have grown in the last several years, and I am impressed with you.”

  “This—this can’t be happening,” Shane said, gulping down his drink.

  “Is it so hard to believe that some people are good at planning things out?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Ah, I see. Your disbelief stems from the fact that this planning came from me and not you.”

  “Shut up!” Shane stood and drew out his firearm. “Tell me something, son, did your King’s gambit include a bullet in your head? Or maybe I should counter with a Fischer defense, and cart your ass behind bars!”

  “Honestly? No.” Walter shrugged. “You can kill me, or arrest me if you want. My office will hold everything you need to bring down a great deal of evil. But seriously, will it change the world?” Walter reached over and took a chess piece, a silver pawn. “There is no shame in being a pawn if you know it.” He set the pawn down with a slight flourish of his fingertips. “It gives you the ability to become something greater once you cross over to your opponent’s side.”

  “Like a pawn becoming a knight?”

  “Precisely.”

  ***

  Walter Stratton was sitting at his desk, attending to some of the more mundane paperwork, and reveling in his newest acquisition when the phone chirped; it was Jeannette. “Yes.”

  “Monsieur Stratton, there are two detectives with the local police force here. They wish to see you.”

  Walter stifled a groan; he hated speaking to those two. “Send them in.”

  “Merci.”

  The door opened, and the detectives walked in and sat down without greeting or invitation.

  So crude, no wonder Jeannette no longer shows them in.

  “Something’s gone wrong. Some prick from the FBI vetoed the DA and the force. Neither of us is assigned to Cain.”

  “I see, and who is?”

  “A rookie, a little girl by the name of Fullson.”

  Walter pretended to not know who they mentioned. It was so satisfying to let his pawns and his opponents think, when they were no good at it.

  “I suppose you can’t be blamed in this matter. However, Cain still needs to be dealt with.”

  One of the detectives shrugged. “I don’t see how that’s going to happen; Cain was released with all charges suspended.”

  “I know,” Walter said gravely. “The crackheads under you were supposed to leave all of it in Cain’s apartment, and then be killed. Instead they thought they could sell some of the cocaine back to the Tal-Voh.”

  Walter passed a hand over his face; pretending to calm himself down. “And it’s only a matter of time before they realize that they had to have inside help to steal it in the first place.”

  The two detectives shared an uncomfortable glance. “How—”

  “How do I know? Believe me, when plans are carried out with the attention to subtlety that you displayed, it is impossible not to figure these things out.”

  “So what has to be done? I mean, eventually they are going to figure out that Cain is innocent when they discover the involvement of—” The detective was stopped short by Walter’s glare.

  “I want you—and I mean you—to make sure that Cain and Stella are framed for murder. I don’t care how you do it, but you better not slip up. Or I will place you right with all the other scum you put in prison.”

  “What about the Tal-Voh? If they are closing in like you said—”

  “Your reward, if you succeed, will be a transfer to Washington; you’ll fit right in with the other roaches in there. However, to throw them off your trail for just a little bit longer, you might wanna help out with the shipment on its way to the airport.”

  Walter stood. “Now, get out.”

  Once out, one of the detectives pulled out a mini-recorder. “I sometimes wonder if lawyers are really as smart as they think they are.”

  The other detective chuckled. “I can’t believe how no one even has a clue! Even with the incident at the hub in Shinehaven.”

  “Yeah well, Agent Harper is in town. Maybe they do know.”

  “Naah, I left this little baby in the private briefing room, and got a snippet of that redneck’s conversation with the chief. Harper, is leaving tomorrow.”

  “That’s a relief—Shane Harper is insane. I heard the FBI is gonna can him soon. Anyway, did the recording take just now? I don’t trust the lawyer, he may try to double cross us, and I plan on taking him with me if he does.”

  “Let’s see.” He pressed the “play” button. But the only
thing that played chilled both detectives to the bone, and made them fear for their lives.

  “Never underestimate me.”

  Chapter 33

  The Crisis

  “Betrayal isn’t some sort of flaw in humanity, it is an expectation.”

  —Cain Lamentson

  4 a.m.

  Cain woke up with a nasty taste in his mouth. Someone was shaking him roughly.

  “Get up, Cain! We have a problem!” someone shouted in his ear.

  “Wha—is it time for smash?” he said disjointedly, wondering why he decided to sleep in his armchair.

  “Idiot! Get up, I said!”

  A crashing wetness shocked Cain to his feet. “What the hell!” he shouted, still trying to get the water from his eyes when someone smacked him hard across the face.

  Cain shook his head to get over being splashed with water and smacked harder than he ever had in his life. He glared at Stella; her face was drawn tight in a pained expression.

  “What, goddammit? What. The. Fuck.”

  Stella held up her radio that was blaring nonstop chatter. “How is this possible?”

  “Where is half the damn force?”

  “Quiet! This is an unsecured channel!”

  “HQ, this is Officer Denton. None of Taskforce Ten are responding. Repeat: none of Taskforce Ten are responding!”

  “Damn that Agent Harper! All units in range of Area Fourteen, proceed to suspect’s address!”

  “All available units be advised, both suspects are armed. Apprehend and use deadly force only if necessary. Keep on station. Repeat: keep on station.”

  “Oh God, no,” Stella moaned.

  “What?”

  Stella looked in Cain’s eyes. Her face had grown so pale that the whites of her eyes seemed to have more color. “Either I am paranoid, or they have a rookie on the radio that doesn’t know that I am familiar with that code set.”

  “What code set?”

  Stella looked as though she was going to throw up. “‘Keep on station’ is the same as K-O-S. Or, ‘kill on sight.’”