The Hangman's Soliloquy
Page 21
“See? Besides, I doubt Ms. Marsh is doing much traveling.”
Herman’s eye twitched, real anger hitting him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Well, if you’re talking about the late Dr. Marsh’s daughter, she’s in New York receiving treatment for ovarian cancer. I sent money along to help cover her expenses.”
Herman reached into his pocket, producing the picture and handing it over. “Yeah? How the hell do you explain that?”
The blood drained from Schultz’s face as he slumped against the wall. When the color returned it brought fury with it. “Where did you get this?” He took a step towards Herman. The Tall Man placed a hand against his chest to stop him.
“It was left on my windshield the night before last, after somebody knocked me out, torched a building with me inside, and kidnapped her. Where the hell is she?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He tried to lunge at Herman again but was held in place. “She’s dead and you god damned well know it!”
The Tall Man took the photograph from Schultz’s hand; his lips curled inward when he looked at it. “Herman, are you sure about this picture?”
“What the fuck is going on here? Yes, yes god damnit I’m sure.”
“This,” he said, flipping the photo so that it faced Herman, “is Melanie Stroud, the Melanie Stroud that was working with Greg.”
“Then explain to me how she was at my house two days ago. Tell me how I saw her in a fucking coffee shop this afternoon.”
“I think the better question is just who she is. She fed one identity to Greg and another to you. You said you saw her today; did you talk to her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Herman sighed. “Look at that picture; she looks like she’s been beaten and terrorized, right? Well, when I saw her today, she was smiling and didn’t have a mark on her.”
“She’s fucking dead.”
“No, she’s not, Greg. Herman’s right. I saw her too.” He considered adding that she was traveling with his brother but decided to keep that information to himself. If Schultz found out that Pete was the man who had been tracking his team he might well turn on Herman and himself. Then again, he might do that anyway.
Herman made his way over to Schultz’s desk, attempting to get a look at the man’s laptop. “What exactly is the plan here, Greg?”
Schultz’s hands glided over the keyboard, his fingers striking keys for close to a minute. When he finished, he pointed towards Sam. The man in the chair sat up and raised his head; Herman felt a chill when he saw a familiar blue glow in the man’s eyes.
“My name is Samuel Jonas Wright and I am the man who killed JFK. In my free time I enjoy musicals and shoving exotic fruit into my ass.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“C’mon, Herman, how else do you expect to get him to confess to everything he’s responsible for?”
“It’s not a confession when the person has no control over what they’re saying.”
Schultz waved a dismissive hand. “We all know what he’s done. People like him are never held accountable. Well, he is going to be made to be accountable.”
“This is sick, Greg. Can’t you see that?”
“I’m sick, Herman. I know that. I’ve been part of a lot of things that I knew were wrong and I went along anyway. I did it for myself and I have to live with that. I’ll turn myself in and I’ll face what’s coming to me, I deserve it but you know who didn’t? My wife. My kids. They’re gone and it’s because of this piece of shit. He doesn’t get to get away with it; he’s going to get what he deserves.”
“Just what is it that he deserves?”
“To burn.” Schultz’s voice wavered, his words punctuated by sobs. “Like my family.”
Herman could feel his own sorrow bubbling up and threatening to explode out. He empathized with Greg. He empathized with his friend and what he must be feeling about his suddenly not dead brother. He thought about Ray and wished he were here to tell him what to do. He looked back to Wright, bloodied and reduced to an automaton, and felt no pity. He was in dangerous territory, a state where emotion was overruling his rational mind.
“He’s a bad man, Herman. You’ve seen it firsthand. I’ll record his confession and turn it over to you, that’s my plan. You can give it traction and make it stick. Once that’s done, I’ll surrender to whichever agency claims me. I’m sure more than one would like to take me in.”
The Tall Man stepped between them, pressing a finger against one of the monitors. “I’d say a more pressing issue has reared its head.”
On the screen, fed by a camera that monitored the service road, were a line of headlights. Herman counted a dozen before he resigned himself to the fact that things were, in all likelihood, about to get much worse. He pressed his thumb against his temple and rubbed. “Please tell me these guys are with you.”
Schultz didn’t speak a word but his eyes said it all: no siree.
“What about you, big man? You have a plan?”
“Nope.” The Tall Man leaned against a pillar and jerked a thumb towards the door to the fire escape. “But I’d be she does.”
The mystery woman stood in the doorway, smiling. She was in control and enjoying every minute of it. “Hello, boys.” She moved towards the Tall Man, eyeing him from head to toe. “Well, you and your brother certainly favor one another.” A short chuckle barely escaped her lips before his hands were around her neck, squeezing hard enough to cause his arms to shake.
Schultz tried to separate them, receiving an elbow to the face and falling to the floor, unconscious. She used the distraction to pull a small device from her pocket, managing to press a button with her thumb before it was swatted away. The Tall Man was drawing his free hand back to strike her when something tore through a window and struck him in the shoulder. The damaged arm fell by his side though he maintained his single-handed grip.
“You really should let me go.” The words were strained, barely crossing bluish lips.
“C’mon, let her go. You can take care of her after we find out what the hell’s going on.”
The hand unclenched, leaving her staggered and sucking in fragmented breaths. She looked to Herman as she ran a hand along her neck, smearing a rivulet of blood. “So, we did make a connection.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Tease. I prefer Evie, by the way.” She knelt down, grasping the device and pressing down on it before she turned to the Tall Man. “Good timing; five more seconds and that pretty little head of yours would have been split in two.”
“I don’t know what your game is but unless it involves you dying, it's not going to go how you planned it.”
“Considering that ninety percent of it already has, I like my odds. Besides, I’m not here for either of you.”
“Just came to visit the sand dunes?”
“Oh, Herman, your mind is so myopic and twisted you can’t see the forest, can you?”
“So that’s it, your plan is to bore us to death.” Evie opened her mouth but now was Herman’s turn for an outburst. “Tell us or don’t, I really don’t fucking care. I already had to listen to sleeping beauty’s goddamned scheme, I don’t plan to sit through another.” He raised his pistol, aiming squarely at her head. “I think I’ll just shoot you and save us all a headache. Well, not Sam. Looks like he’s already been through it.”
“Take a look outside. If you shoot me, you’ll be dead by the time the shell hits the floor.”
Herman lowered his weapon, making use of the invitation to have a peek. “Do you not understand how a revolver works?” His flippancy dissipated when he saw a militia forming a circle around the building. His best guess was fifty but he thought more could be lurking in the shadows.
“What’s the lay of the land, Hermano?”
“Brest Fortress. We’re the Red Army.”
Evie propped herself up on the table that sat between Herman and Sam, smiling coyly. “Did you think I would come here alone
and unarmed after all the planning I did?”
“I do have one question, just to be clear: if you’re going to kill us anyway, why shouldn’t I just shoot you in the head and kickstart the evening’s festivities?”
“Actually, killing you and your friend would only complicate things for me. I need Sam; I need Greg. The two of you are superfluous.”
“I agree, I feel no need to be here.”
“Your sarcasm doesn’t mask your contempt, Herman, but you’re right. This building is going to be leveled tonight. When the authorities clean up, they’re going to find the two of them.”
“The vigilante takes down his final target while simultaneously cutting the head off the corrupt snake.”
“Exactly. If your corpses are here it raises more questions. I don’t have time for that, nor do I want it to hold up the investigation.”
“Because you’re expecting a payday.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
“It’s not. I see that rock on your finger and there’s one guy here that could afford it. He gets murdered, you collect the insurance. Fuck knows the size of the policy that poor bastard has.”
“Very good, Mr. Ingram, but you forgot his cut of the insurance for each of the facilities that Greg has already brought down.”
“I didn’t forget, I’m still wondering why I shouldn’t just shoot you. Wright? Okay, fuck that guy. Schultz? Maybe he’s not without issues but to prey on a man who lost his family? A man who is clearly not well, and to do it for money? In my book, that makes you a steaming pile of shit, yet here you are, proud, thinking you’ve honestly pulled something off.”
“Not alone, I had help.” She turned, winking at the Tall Man. He took a step forward only to be intercepted.
“Calm down and, for fuck’s sake, keep some blood on the inside, okay?”
“Do you really think that she’s going to let us walk away? She knows that we’d come after her. More than that, why would you want to walk away?”
Evie spoke before Herman could. “I have an insurance policy, a juicy little dossier that ties each of you to a series of unlicensed demolitions. After tonight you can add two counts of murder. Leave now, quietly, and it stays locked up, out of sight.”
“Nah, I’ve never walked out on a fight. If I’m going out, it’s gonna be on my own terms.”
“Does he speak for you?”
Herman smiled, his smirking eyes staring straight through her. “On this? Yes, he does. I’m going to watch this all blow up in your face and then I’m gonna have a bottle of bourbon, listen to some music, and sleep for a week.”
“So be it.” Evie walked to the doorway before stopping and turning around. “I only expected so much from this one. He and his brother come from a failed bloodline. They’re society’s trash, limited in their usefulness.”
“Whoa,” Herman said as he fought to hold the Tall Man back.
She laughed, holding up her hand with that strange device cradled within. “Calm down, big guy. Your brother is the one who really made this possible. He was able to get that magic tonic, the one that lets me control those automatons outside. It was invaluable in allowing me to become Melanie Stroud.”
“What?”
“Use your imagination, Herman. I could be dosed with that stuff and have all of her personal information stored in my mind, like uploading a book to the cloud. I was her until she had to die.” She began rubbing her temples as she finished the last sentence.
“That headache is probably a tumor.” A bout of deep laughter bellowed out of Herman before he could continue. “That magic tonic has caused cancer in three dozen men. Take a look at the file in my bag if you don’t believe me, all the records are there. You’re going to be spending your windfall on chemo, if you’re lucky.”
Her face soured. “You disappoint me, Herman.”
“I have that power with women. That said, you really should see an oncologist. Soon.”
“I expected so much more from you. Greg was easy; play a sympathetic role, become a trusted advocate. His deteriorating mindset made him a facile puppet.”
Her arrogant self-assuredness had the unique ability to burrow into Herman’s skin. “Only taking Melanie Stroud’s identity wasn’t enough, was it?”
The response came quickly and coldly. “Her death was necessary to keep Greg motivated.”
“Motivated?” The Tall Man scoffed. “You snapped his sanity like a dry twig; he shot two men dead, men who trusted him. You used my brother, twisting his mind and his will to suit your agenda.”
“All it took was the guise of love; the promise of building the family that he longed for.”
“All right, god damnit.” Herman grunted, using every ounce of strength to keep his friend from murdering this psychopath with his bare hands. “It makes your blood boil, doesn’t it? Looking at her smarmy face, knowing that she’s going to pull this off?”
The Tall Man eased off, looking at Herman and waiting for the punchline.
“Except she isn’t.”
“Oh, I’m not?” Evie laughed.
“Hardy har, dipshit. Let me show you a trick.” With the showmanship of a Vegas magician, Herman held up his empty left hand; with his right, he slowly withdrew his cell phone. He fiddled with it briefly before looking at Evie. “Believe it or not, this place has phenomenal wi-fi.”
A moment later the phone rang. Herman answered, routing the call through the speaker. “You get that, Walt?”
“Every word of it. I enjoyed it so much that I’m passing it to the FBI field office in San Diego.”
“Wow, that is a great idea. Let me know what they think of it.” He ended the call, returning the phone to his pocket.
“Well-played, Herman. Too bad I’ll be in Mexico by the time they get here. Oh, did you forget about my little army outside?” She calmly walked to the door, placing her hand on the knob before looking back. “You were supposed to be a challenge. I knew the lure of the story wouldn’t be enough. In the end, all I had to do was take out someone that you loved.”
There it was; the righteous anger was back. Any rational thought Herman had vanished, along with any self-control. He raised his pistol and fired. Evie scrambled but misjudged her position in relation to the door. By the time she was on the landing, the bullet had torn through her shoulder just by the neck. The force sent her tumbling down the steel stairs. He unloaded the remaining five shots, unsure if any found their target.
“Get down!” The Tall Man rushed to Sam, knocking him to the floor before scurrying over to close the door to the fire escape. He caught a brief glimpse of Evie crawling along the ground. He wanted to finish her off but he knew that there wasn’t time. Not yet. He told Herman to close the door that led to the garage and check on Schultz.
“He’s out cold but breathing.”
“Tell me you’ve got guns in that bag.”
Herman nodded, sliding the duffel across the floor.
The Tall Man opened it, retrieving a .45 caliber Ruger and two magazines. He noticed a folder marked with Pete’s name, deciding to ignore it for the time being. “Okay, Hermano, stay low and stay away from that door.”
“Yeah, and?”
The Tall Man shrugged, his lips curving up.
“What? What the fuck is that? Why the fuck are you smiling?”
“I feel alive.”
“Then you’d better enjoy the next minute or so.” Herman found himself smiling. He, like his friend, did feel alive. Part of it was being faced with almost certain death; part was wanting to finish what that bullet started.
“It’s been a pleasure, Herman.”
“Likewise, Perry.”
Before the Tall Man could respond, a fusillade of bullets tore into the building, reducing the line of windows to deadly shards. The shots seemed to come from every direction, though the symphony of pops and clouds of debris made it impossible to tell. A bullet exploded the florescent above Herman, showering him in thin glass. Then, as he waited for
the inevitable shot to tear into his skull, the firing stopped. Herman looked to his friend, confused.
The Tall Man held up a hand. Once the silence reached thirty-seconds, he propped himself up just enough to look outside. There was Evie, pulling herself into the back of an SUV. In front of her, all of the assailants stood as statues, their weapons lowered. Men began to walk from the front of the building, joining the others at the rear.
“What’s going on?”
“Beats the hell outta me. Come take a look.”
“Hell no.”
“They don’t seem to worried about us anymore.”
Herman crawled along the floor, lifting his head just enough to see. Evie began yelling; they couldn’t make out her words despite the energy she was expending. With great exertion, she hoisted herself into the driver’s seat and keyed the engine. As the transmission clicked into gear, the mercenaries opened fire on her. The vehicle hobbled forward briefly before the gas tank ruptured and sparks ignited the fuel.
While the fire engulfed the truck, the soldiers began climbing into the other SUVs, some of which had sustained damage. A few rolled out with flat tires; others with broken windows and lights. One was left, idling. Two men walked out from a small ridge at the edge of the property, walking directly towards the building. Herman grabbed a rifle; the Tall Man pushed the barrel down.
“Hang on a minute.”
In the distance, emanating from the area the men had come, headlights began to flash in short bursts of three.
“We’re okay, Herman.”
“And you know that how?”
The Tall Man pointed and Herman looked, seeing two more sets of flashes before the mystery vehicle drove off.
“I don’t know what the hell that means.”
“It means we’re okay.”
The clang of heavy footsteps clanging on the stairs alerted them to their visitors’ arrival. The door opened slowly, exposing two men, their dark suits and sunglasses a look that Herman had become quite familiar with. The first to enter held a large folder which he handed to Herman while the second handed a phone to the Tall Man. From there, they proceeded to pick up Sam and carry him to the final SUV.