“Hi guys.” Nick popped the trunk. “We made good time. I was telling Pence we would be getting into costume in my special room for him. I explained to him I had been informed by my US Marshal pals of definite threads linking him with both Sadun and Formsby.”
Gus looked in the trunk. “You’ve been talking to an unconscious guy wrapped in black plastic bags and duct tape all the way from Los Alamos?”
“I was warming him up.” Nick plucked Didricson out of the trunk, and shouldered his bulk with impressive ease. “Pence is very considerate too. He didn’t interrupt me, or make smartass comments, like some of my friends tend to do.”
Gus and John both enjoyed Nick’s admonishment as they followed him out to the subbasement entrance. “I’m glad you guys think this is funny. I have to prepare and question Pence before I take the BMW to Jerry at 4 am.”
“Don’t rush, Muerto,” Gus said as they descended into the lower level. “I can take it over to Jerry. How much do you want to give him?”
“It’s another last minute rush job, so he gets the car, and twenty-five thousand. Lately, Jerry’s becoming the most important outside contact we have. I can’t wait until we get Pence situated on a gurney, and I bring him out of his snooze time. I bet he’ll be surprised.”
“Either that, or he’ll have a stroke, and die right on the table when a vein in his head bursts like a water filled balloon,” Gus replied.
“Don’t ruin this for John, Payaso. This is his first time seeing the special room in action. It’s a very intricate tool for obtaining information quickly, John.”
“It’s actually a horrifying nightmare of unending torment, birthed in a mind so twisted, you’ll be glad we haven’t eaten since early last night.”
“I look forward to yet another new experience in the war against the forces of evil.”
Gus patted John’s shoulder. “Good one, John. Keep those happy thoughts in mind. You’ll need them once Nick activates his insanity room.”
Gus and John took Didricson’s wrapped form from Nick, laying it on the nearest gurney.
“I am sure Muerto only uses this extreme solution for gathering information from very bad and deserving miscreants,” John stated.
“Actually, the last two people treated to a special showing of the room were the parents of Jean’s best friend. She directed Muerto to solve the problem of the parents dealing drugs out of their house. Muerto cured them of that bad habit in one therapy session here in the manmade Seventh Level of Hell.”
“I think that’s enough of your unenlightened perceptions of my holding facility, Payaso. I’ll put Pence through his paces for an hour, and see what I can get him to share with us. You guys get him stripped down, and I’ll start the music.”
* * *
Didricson awoke in a sweat, his head throbbing. He couldn’t move a muscle. Every movable part was strapped tightly to the gurney. Blinking at the images of torture and mutilation depicted everywhere by ultraviolet lighting, Pence called out loudly to be heard over the eerie music playing in surround sound around him.
“Hello… where am I? What do you want? Please… let me go.” He watched as three men, two with black masks, and one with a hideous clown mask, approached him with white gloves, shining under the black-light. “Is…is this some kind of joke? Why are you holding me here? I have money. We can make a deal.”
“No deals,” Nick said. “We’ll start with something simple. I’ve been informed you’ve been blackmailing the justice department. Apparently, you have information stored away, making some very important people nervous. You’re using it, threatening to release it if you are bothered in any way. Like an arrogant idiot, you even made them allow you to continue working at Los Alamos. I want to know where the information is, and I want you to describe it to me.”
Hope surged through Didricson. “You bastards think you can scare me. I have a deal. No one touches me. If I get killed, hurt, or even sick, every major breakthrough we’ve had at Los Alamos will be released around the world.”
“I see,” Nick said. “Let me explain something to you, Pence. When the DOJ gets in a hole they can’t dig their way out of, they call me. Once I take a contract, I find out everything they want to know, and solve every problem in the contract. They don’t know where I am, what I plan to do, or whom I plan to kill. They want your blackmailing operation ended, the information safely in their hands, and every contact you’ve been selling the United States out to revealed for their viewing pleasure.”
Nick walked alongside Didricson’s gurney, within reach of the surgical instrument tray near the gurney. He held out his hand without looking away from Didricson, palm up. “Scalpel please, Payaso.”
Gus moved next to him, and slapped a scalpel into the palm of Nick’s extended hand. Nick deftly made a shallow incision from Didricson’s ribcage to his groin. Gus took the scalpel as Pence screamed.
Nick held out his hand again. “Formula please, Kabong.”
John handed him a bottle from the instrument tray with a large eyedropper top, and Clorox marked in black felt marker on the front label. Nick then used the eyedropper to dribble Clorox bleach into the open wound. By the time Nick finished covering the wound, no doubt remained as to whether Pence would help or not. In the next fifteen minutes, Didricson between cries of utter agony, explained every step to take in order to retrieve the drive. Instead of going on, Nick called Paul immediately after, leaving Pence to writhe on the gurney.
“What’s that noise,” Paul asked.
“Oh… sorry. Wait one.” Nick moved away from Pence. “I found out exactly how to retrieve the drive Didricson is blackmailing the DOJ with. I know better than to hand it over to those boobs. Each of these steps must be followed precisely, or it triggers the release of materials. I’d tell you who, but Pence hired an anonymous contractor.”
“Maybe he does know, and you haven’t found the right method to get the name.”
“Did you just insult me?” Nick glanced on the other side of the room where Didricson screamed and begged to be able to tell everything he knew.
Paul chuckled. “I’ll get this done right now. Do you need confirmation?”
“Absolutely. My informant is anxious to help, and I don’t want to let him go until I know he hasn’t made any mistakes in explaining this to me.”
“One hour. Thanks, Nick.”
Nick rejoined his companions. By then, Pence had stopped screaming, and began sobbing unintelligible mutterings. Nick washed the wound off, and applied an analgesic from the tray in a thick salve over the open wound. The effect of greatly reduced pain brought Didricson out of his ravings. He gasped short aching breaths after his extended screaming session. Nick leaned over him and waved.
“Hi Pence. Have I made it plain how important it is for you to help me undo all your nasty complications and traitorous deeds?”
“Yes…yes… anything! Just ask… but at least give me enough time to answer… please!”
“Sure, buddy. The first question is do you know Uthman Sadun?”
“Yes! His lawyer contacts me regularly. Sadun was one of my biggest bidders before our mole in the DOJ was discovered. Lately, he’s been in touch with a billionaire… uh… Formsby… Milton Formsby. Formsby was paying big money to find out the identity of the man who had recovered the chip I stole. Sadun told Formsby the name, because the same guy caught him. From what Sadun’s lawyer told me, Formsby suspected the man to be a hired assassin, using a weird deep cover identity as a writer. Formsby was under investigation by the CIA for aiding and abetting terrorists. He wanted information on the writer’s personal dealings without being tied in any way to the information gathering. I went to Pacific Grove, and found out everything about him. I thought Formsby was nuts.”
“Let me get this straight, Pence. You trailed this guy yourself?” No way in hell did this idiot get on my trail without me knowing it, Nick thought. If he did, I’m getting the hell out of the business.
“No… Formsby was righ
t. I waited outside his home after he walked his daughter to school with another guy and their dog. When he returned, there was something creepy about him. He seemed to feel me watching him. I started the car, and drove away before the asshole could focus on me. I turned over what I had to Formsby, and told him he’d have to do the rest himself.”
Nick remembered numerous instances where he did his usual scanning for strange vehicles because of a feeling he had. At least you haven’t lost your damn edge completely, Nick decided. “Give me the lawyer’s name, Pence – the one Sadun uses as a go between. I also need to know where you normally meet the guy, and where he lives.”
Nick held a glass with a straw for Didricson to sip water. “Think carefully. Don’t spew a bunch of crap on a whim. We have your phone, so I’ll check your contact list.”
After sipping the water thirstily, Didricson nearly choked, sputtering out denials of ever having any intention of stalling or misleading. “His name is Brook Wargul. He has an office in San Francisco, and another in Washington, DC. Since Sadun is being held at the Federal Penitentiary at Atwater, Wargul’s been staying in California at his SF office.”
Satisfied with the threads Pence gave him, Nick ordered him to speak freely, concerning when he began selling secrets, his motives, and everyone connected to his subversive lifestyle. “Just talk Pence as if you were writing your autobiography of being a traitor.”
Another half hour passed, where Pence finished, and Nick waited for confirmation from his boss. He answered the call on the first ring. “I was beginning to get worried, pal.”
“We have it all, Nick – thank God. He had everything on it. The FBI is hitting his house in the morning. I assume he will be another one that got away without a trace, huh?”
“Yep. I’m about to send Pence on his last journey. I hope you haven’t forgotten about my video problem with the Formsby mess.”
“Already confiscated from the local PD through the Patriot Act, because Formsby is now under indictment for espionage. I already have the DOJ’s release of the case into CIA hands, since most of the indictment encompasses his overseas interests. If anyone hassles you locally, you call me directly. I’ll take care of them. I don’t think the FBI will be snooping around on the Formsby case, but you never know. Great job, Nick. With this kind of success, the number of favors owed to us keeps piling in a bigger mound we can use in the future.”
“Good, because I have a couple of other loose ends I have to work through. I’ll be in touch with the logistics, Paul.”
“I’m here to back your play, Muerto. Just give me some warning, okay?”
“Will do. You can get some sleep now. Thanks for staying in this to the end.”
“Are you kidding? You prevented a major catastrophe. I am sorry about the exposure it caused where you live. I hope fixing the loose end problem shifts you back into relative obscurity other than your novel writing. Call me if you need me.” Gilbrech disconnected.
Nick brought over a syringe with him to Pence’s gurney. “You did real good, Pence. Here’s your reward.”
Nick injected the hotshot of heroin into Didricson’s neck. Thirty seconds later, the pain faded completely, and soon after Pence’s life followed. “Well John, what do you think? Pretty effective, huh?”
John took off his mask, as did Nick and Gus. “Although I agree with Payaso about this method being about the most twisted, horrifying end of a human being I’ve ever seen or imagined, it produces excellent results.”
“That’s all that counts, Kabong.” Nick brought over a body-bag from the storage cabinet in the room.
“Only you would say such a thing, Muerto,” Gus said, helping John shift Didricson’s body into the bag Nick held open. “I have to admit it though. There wasn’t any other way faster to retrieve the blackmail drive. What’s next?”
“I have a rather intricate plan to use one loose end to help me tie up the other loose end, and as a bonus, make Timmy and Grace get their hands dirty in penance for causing this. Can you and John put Pence on ice while I go deliver the BMW?”
“Sure,” Gus agreed. “I’ll drive by Jerry’s after we finish with the Pence interrogation cleaning. Did Paul tell you whether tomorrow will be a tough day with the PD or not?”
“According to him, I won’t be bothered at all.”
* * *
Nick managed three hours of blissful, dreamless sleep before his inner alarm awakened him to the day’s duties. He rubbed his eyes, taking satisfaction in the fact the nightstand clock read one minute before seven. How refreshing, Nick conceded, the sleep of the psychopath. Before descending the stairs, Nick avoided waking Rachel as he fought off the already awake Deke, who knew the daily routine very well. He stopped outside Jean’s room next, but hesitated, shushing Deke with a hand gesture, while listening intently. A slowly forming smile spread across his features, as Nick realized Jean was near the door, waiting to ambush him.
“Up early, huh Dagger?”
The door swung open to a perturbed Jean wearing a black body leotard and Muerto mask. “I didn’t have a fragrance you could smell through the door, and I didn’t move a fraction of an inch while lying in wait to pounce. How did you know?”
“I have a sixth sense for Ninja wannabes. Plus, you didn’t control your breathing. I didn’t smell you this time, but I heard you. Nice outfit.”
Jean stroked Deke’s head. “I’ll remember. You’re mine one of these days.”
“It won’t matter. I’ll be too old to care. What do you want for breakfast?”
“Toast and tea.”
“By your command.” Nick bowed away from the door.
* * *
Jean finished off her toast and tea while Nick worked the next scene in the new Diego adventure. Rachel walking into the kitchen triggered a slurping of crumbs and tea. Jean reacted appreciatively when Rachel turned away with a disgusted look, by pumping her fist.
“Another horrible habit learned from the instigator, El Muerto. I asked you not to do that in front of me, young lady.”
“I can’t help it, Mom. Your face scrunches like a voodoo doll the second you see me eating toast and tea.”
“That’s the way my face reacts to evil, Daughter of Darkness.” Noticing Jean concentrating on her iPhone screen next to her, Rachel turned in Nick’s direction, opening her robe to reveal Nick’s gift of a short silk, black, see through negligee. She also put on light makeup for the moment. Although very pregnant, Rachel knew the effect she had on Nick no matter what she wore in a provocative way.
Nick, who enjoyed the mother/daughter exchange without ever looking away from his scene, glanced at Rachel, his mouth tightening at seeing her pose. He knew the game. She would do this only minutes away from him walking Jean to school. Nick never questioned whether he was a killer psychopath. He did question the general opinion psychopaths pretended all their feelings, and everything in life was an act. Knowing he had tortured and murdered a man only hours before affected his lust for Rachel not at all, even in her last month of pregnancy. His problem was she knew how to play him as if she were reeling in a twenty inch trout. Nick checked his watch, promising a long period of payback the moment he returned. He then made gestures with both his hands and mouth at the still posing Rachel. He mimicked what was in store for her that she loved, but pretended disgust at, until in the middle of exactly what she professed to hate. Rachel gasped, blushed, and tied her robe at the same time.
“Go brush your teeth, toasty. We leave in five minutes. I’ll clean your mess when I get back. Gus may or may not make it in time.”
“Okay, Dad.” Jean slurped a last crumb filled mouthful of tea for Rachel’s benefit, and ran upstairs with Deke on her trail.
“You vulgar snot!”
“You teasing vamp!” Nick gathered the pretending to resist Rachel into his arms.
“Don’t even think for a second you’ll be doing anything of the sort to me, now or ever.”
“We’ll see. You may say no now, and yes…y
es…yes later.” Nick’s hands roved gently over Rachel, nuzzling her neck, while listening with satisfaction to her moaning indications she might very well make a liar of herself when he returned. Then the doorbell rang. “Perfect timing, Gus… you prick.”
Nick checked to make sure it was Gus on his kitchen monitor, and then went to answer the door. “I didn’t think I’d see you here this morning, Payaso. Would you like a cup of coffee to sip on the way?”
“Sure. I couldn’t resist coming along to hear your plans. Besides, Tina kicked me out of bed to get her a double latte at seven. After I collected my fee, I decided I may as well take a shower, and satisfy my curiosity.” Gus sipped from the travel mug Nick handed him, while giving Rachel a wave. “Good coffee, Nick. Did you know if you order a plain black coffee at Starbucks, the robot at the register goes into massive brain freeze?”
Nick chuckled. “Yeah, I learned my lesson about ordering plain coffee in a specialty coffee assembly line place. To their credit, they actually sit you down, and make it for you. It’s funny when you think about how hard it actually is getting coffee in a coffee specialty place. Then, I remember I’m a cement head, and if I wanted plain coffee, I should have stayed home.”
“That’s right, cement head,” Rachel called over her shoulder from the teapot. “Deny that’s the reason you do it too, Gus. I dare you.”
Gus raised his hand. “Guilty. I do it only for the entertainment value, and if I have time to waste. I didn’t this morning.”
They moved to the door with Nick holding Deke’s leash apparatus. Hearing it clinking around, Deke flew down the stairs, to take a position near Nick’s feet. Jean, only a minute behind, hugged Rachel. “Remember, today’s a half day for some goofy reason, so don’t get to fooling around, and forget about me.”
“Why you little…” Rachel barely missed snagging the backpack before Jean disappeared through the front door. “That calls for a room displacement visit. See you guys later.”
“What’s a room displacement visit?”
“Rachel disturbs everything in Jean’s room as if she’s doing a cell check at Folsom Prison. It drives Jean nuts. That’s the reason we have a keyed deadbolt on our bedroom door, because Jean seeks revenge immediately. She caught Rachel by surprise when the Mommy didn’t envision payback on the part of the Daughter of Darkness.”
Bloody Shadows Page 11