“What’s up? Usually if you aren’t doing something, you’re reading one of your weird books.” Kasparov asked with genuine concern.
“I have just been fired. It will be fine. I will get a new job.” Lofgren replied.
“Shit. I’m sorry man.” Kasparov apologized. “So I guess you’re going home now.”
“No. Claudia is still out there. Agent or not, I am still a person with the knowledge and skills to bring her down. Besides, I can’t let her walk away after what she did to me, or to your friend.” Lofgren answered. His lips curled in to a cold smile as he spoke.
“Maybe I can get you a spot in my department. We’ve made a hell of a team so far.” Kasparov offered.
“Let’s survive tonight.” Lofgren said with a laugh as he stood to leave. The cab was due to arrive any moment. As he took his first step toward the door a gunshot rang out in the air and embedded itself into the wooden leg of the table. A man stood in the door way looking surprised, panic in his eyes. He was clearly not proficient with a gun and must have come to destroy the place and hadn’t expected anyone to be here. It was likely Claudia assumed the men would have attended the memorial that was being held at Marian’s rather than preparing to raid her hideout and had sent a lackey with a gross lack of experience with firearms or confrontation. Lofgren quickly drew one of the pistols from his belt. He took aim and squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet through their attackers left eye.
Kasparov carefully looked outside to find that no one else had come for them and motioned to Lofgren that the car had arrived. The attack seemed to come out of nowhere and now they were out of time. They needed to move even faster now that they had put down another one of Claudia’s men. Lofgren ripped the necklace off their attacker and moved the man inside. He opened the trunk and rearranged a few things before stuffing the body inside. After all, there was no guarantee he would be back to fix this before someone came to investigate the sound. He helped Kasparov carry the trunk down the stairs to the taxi that waited in the parking lot. The driver eyed the men with suspicion as they put the trunk in the car and got in.
“What was that noise?” The driver asked.
“My nephew had a cap gun and wanted to play at taking down the bad guys. Cute kid, but you know how loud those things are. Right in my ear he shot that thing off. We’re both law enforcement and the little guy wants to be just like us.” Lofgren answered unreasonably loudly. “Could you take us to Marian’s Gentleman’s Club?”
Lying wasn’t something Lofgren was fond of doing. He had, on almost every occasion, told the truth or said nothing at all, even as a child. On rare occasions, such as this, he found a lie was easier and safer than the alternative. Part of him hated the driver for asking about the sound. He sat in silence for the remainder of the drive.
Back at the club the two men hauled the trunk to Lofgren’s car. The Saab was a great deal nicer than Kasparov’s Dynasty and Lofgren was always glad to be able to drive. He had been letting his partner drive out of curtesy, but now they had no choice but to take his vehicle. They heaved the trunk in to the empty back seat and Kasparov went to pay the cab driver.
Lofgren sat in the driver’s seat and felt around for the trunk release and pushed the button. He got back out and went to inspect the things he had left in the car and tried to find something that he had designed specifically for Claudia and her men. After a moment of looking he had found what he was searching for. He picked up the grenade he had developed for a situation like the one they were due to encounter. If they appeared to be overrun they could throw it and flee. On detonation the weapon would expel silver pellets that would tear the vampires to pieces and burn their remaining flesh.
Before returning to the driver’s seat, Lofgren adjusted the sight on his pistol. He had not been aiming for the attacker’s eye and couldn’t afford to be inaccurate when he came face to face with Claudia. No matter what, he couldn’t allow her to walk out of there after what she had done to him.
“What do you suppose is going to happen?” Kasparov asked as he sat in the car and lit a cigarette.
“I suppose you aren’t going to smoke in my car.” Lofgren replied.
“We’re about to go in to what is basically a death trap, and you’re worried about a few possible stray ashes.” Kasparov retorted.
“Yes. If I die my car will at least be clean.” Lofgren answered dryly.
Kasparov got out of the car to finish his cigarette. Lofgren understood what they were about to do and he couldn’t blame his partner for being on edge. He wasn’t excited about the odds they faced. It was exceedingly likely they would both die if anything went wrong. As much as he would hate to see Kasparov hurt, he knew there was no stopping him. There was also nothing that could have kept Lofgren from trying to take down Claudia and her lackeys.
Once Kasparov had gotten back in the car, Lofgren pulled a bottle of Vodka from the console. It had been stashed there in the event of emergencies. He took a swig and handed it to Kasparov. He was still in pain and needed to take the edge off. His partner likely was feeling the same. After returning the bottle to the console, he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
After spending so much time in Kasparov’s car it felt good to be driving the Saab. He had only driven his own vehicle a few times since he arrived. The brakes responded properly, and steering was smooth as silk. He was more comfortable knowing that if he was going to die tonight, at least he would make it to where he could enact a little justice while he was at it; rather than dying in an automobile accident on the way.
Lofgren parked his car a few blocks from the old building Claudia hid out in. They needed the element of surprise if they had any chance of success. He opened the trunk that was stowed in the backseat and retrieved some of the gear he had packed away. Some items proved difficult to get to with their assailant’s body still in the trunk. He wanted to dispose of it but that would have to wait. After checking that they had enough ammunition ready, and all weapons were easily accessible, Lofgren turned to Kasparov.
“Are you sure about this? There is no going back” Lofgren asked.
“We are here now; we may as well get on with it.” Kasparov said with a weak smile.
Lofgren knew his partner was afraid. Any sensible person would be in their position. He smiled back and extended his hand. Kasparov shook it with certain strength in his grip that almost seemed to convey his determination. It renewed his own confidence in himself. Together the two men started their walk to Claudia’s to put an end to their terror once and for all.
XV.
Kasparov looked the building over as he tried to come up with a plan. Lofgren had intended to go in through the front and push to the back. It seemed like a sound plan if you ignored the back door. It would be easy to escape from there without anyone knowing. The two men had been trying to come up with ways to block the door without being heard. He noticed a small notch in the side of the door frame. It looked to be where a padlock could go to lock up the back. Next to the door rested a pair of men’s work boots. After a few moments Kasparov had come up with a plan that he knew would work.
“Give me that grenade.” Kasparov ordered.
“That will definitely give us away.” Lofgren replied.
“Do you see the boots by the door?” Kasparov questioned.
“Yes. What about them?” Lofgren replied.
“I’m going to use the shoe lace to tie off the grenade to the door. That way, when they open the door, the pin will be pulled and it will explode. That should keep people from getting away.” Kasparov explained.
He thought his idea had been clever and was pleased when Lofgren handed over the grenade. He quickly and quietly crept up to the door and set to work. He managed to get the shoe lace out of a boot and wound it around the firing pin. The other boot string became tangled. Kasparov felt panic set in as he fumbled with the dirty shoe. His anxiety was met with relief when the string came free. He secured the second string around the grenade
and set his trap. In minutes he had everything ready and returned to the bushes.
“Here, take this with you.” Lofgren said as he handed Kasparov a silver weapon that was a bit smaller than a carving knife and extraordinarily sharp. “If we go in guns blazing we won’t be able to get far before they are all on us. Knives first, bullets later. But make sure you can get to your guns. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Thanks.” Kasparov replied. “The back door is rigged. Hopefully they don’t go out before we get inside.”
“Hoping is all we can do.” Lofgren said grimly. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can be.” Kasparov answered. He was afraid of never making it out of the building alive. The idea of becoming another corpse on a pile was awful. More terrifying than that was the understanding that he was about to commit mass murder in a vigilante style cleanup. The thought that he was capable of it made his stomach drop. At what point had he become so cold. He lit a cigarette and stood up. It was time.
Kasparov followed Lofgren to the front. The men at the door recognized them immediately and drew their weapons. Lofgren pulled out two small knives and managed to throw them before the guards could understand what was happening. The knives plunged through the center of each guard’s forehead with startling accuracy; one after the other. It was clear to Kasparov that Lofgren understood the alteration in his perspective and had considered it before throwing the daggers. It was incredible. He watched as his partner ripped the necklaces off of the two men and put them in his pocket before opening the door and going inside. Kasparov followed ready to do his part.
Claudia had managed to get the lights working again and the hallway was illuminated. There were three doors off of this branch of the hallway; two on the left and one on the right. Kasparov quickly analyzed the best action to take. He motioned to the first one on the right and led the way in.
This room looked to be where they kept the personal belongings of their victims. It was littered with clothes, purses, trinkets, scarves, and shoes. Any valuables looked to have already been taken. Kasparov took in the large number of objects the cult had stockpiled and wondered how many people they had killed during the lifetime of their cult. It served as a reminder that this was for more than just Bambi. They made their way back in to the hall and to the room on the right.
A man stood with his back to the door looking at the contents of a shelf. He appeared to be doing inventory. Kasparov crept silently behind him. His hand shook as he drew his dagger. He struggled to step toward him but he knew he had no other choice. He put a hand to the man’s mouth and drug the sharp blade of the knife across the man’s throat and dropped his body to the ground. Kasparov didn’t have time to worry about what he had done as they cleared the room and entered the next.
A tall figure loomed in the back of the room. He looked familiar to Kasparov but he couldn’t place him. The man laughed at the intrusion and he realized who it was. This was the one who had stabbed Lofgren’s leg while he was captured. Somehow he had not sustained injury from Lofgren’s escape.
“What do we have here?” Letty asked with a sick grin as he grabbed a knife off of the table next to him.
“I have come to deliver judgment.” Lofgren replied as he drew his own knife and approached the man. “Watch the door, Kasparov.”
He did as he was told and stood by to be sure they were not detected by anyone who might be nearby. He also could not resist the urge to watch the two men fight. Lofgren made a lunge at the thin man who managed to dodge the attack and make his own. Lofgren’s arm was grazed as he maneuvered away from the blade. It was like watching ancient warriors fight. For several minutes they traded lunges and slices at what would only be air before Lofgren managed to get close enough to grab his opponent. With a well calculated movement the Junkie was on the floor, Lofgren was on top of his pushing his blade toward Letty. The man pushed the knife away and tried to break free. Lofgren used this to his advantage, pulling his own hand free and driving his knife deep in to the Letty’s throat. Blood erupted out covering the two men and the floor beneath them. Lofgren ripped the necklace from the man and added it to the ones in his pocket as he stood up. Kasparov realized he only took them off of the men he killed. Perhaps it was a death count, or a sick souvenir of his transgressions.
They continued around the corner where more rooms sat on either side, each one with its own dangers. In one room they encountered a man who was relieving himself with a dead body. He was entirely nude and the body seemed so mutilated it wasn’t clear if the man was pushing himself in to a vagina or a hole that had been cut out of her. Kasparov quickly buried his blade in the man’s skull. He was disgusted and felt no remorse for taking the life of this man.
Another room offered two people who appeared to have been drinking blood and doing drugs. They were strung out and barely noticed that anyone had entered the room. Kasparov couldn’t bring himself to kill them, but didn’t stop Lofgren. Unlike the man in the previous room, these people seemed to capable of rehabilitation somehow. He wasn’t sure that drinking blood was a real addiction, but a mental hospital could likely sort them out. He felt sick watching his partner cut them down. Somewhere inside of him he knew they could draw attention to them and that in order to have the best odds of making it out alive, they couldn’t leave anyone alive. Even with this thought, he knew he would never forget what he was doing here. He hated himself for it.
Just when their assault began to feel like cold blooded murder they found two rooms that had been used to dispose of bodies, including the one they had found the previous night. It reminded Kasparov why they were fighting and he pressed on assisting Lofgren dispatch of two men in the hall way. They lunged at the pair and were dealt with quickly. Adrenaline was in control of Kasparov and he tried not to think too much about what he was doing. He stopped to catch his breath and struggled to ignore his conscience. From his pocket he withdrew a small flask. The liquid inside burned on the way down and anesthetized his moral anguish.
Up until now it had been almost easy. Down the hall the black man who had been with Claudia had spotted Kasparov and began to fire. It was time for him to use the guns Lofgren had given him. He drew one from its holster and aimed at Nick. He squeezed the trigger but the gun jammed, giving his opponent time to advance. Lofgren had been finishing in another room and came out just as the man had grabbed Kasparov and put a gun to his head.
“Don’t move or he dies!” The man yelled. Kasparov started to laugh. He wasn’t sure if it was panic mixing with adrenaline that made him react this way, or if it was the precision that Lofgren had shown with his marksmanship. “What are you laughing at?”
“This.” Lofgren replied as he pulled the trigger and sent a bullet between the man’s eyes. He fell to the floor and the impact caused the gun in his hand to go off. The bullet ricocheted off the wall and grazed Kasparov’s leg bringing him to the ground. “I am glad you are confident in my marksmanship, but don’t let that happen again. I was not as sure as you were.”
“Understood.” Kasparov said with a pained smile as he pushed himself from the floor. The men made their way in to another room using extra care. There was a young man who was tied up. He had incisions on his arms and tubing had been attached. He was gagged and looked terrified. Kasparov removed the gag as Lofgren set to work on removing the tubes and using them as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
“Don’t kill me.” The man cried as his rag was removed from his mouth. “I just want to go back home to my family, please, no more.”
“Don’t worry; we aren’t here to hurt you. Are there any others still alive?” Kasparov asked.
“Not that I know of. I overheard someone saying I was the last of the captures. They seemed to be planning to take more people but they were afraid to leave. Something about a couple of guys that were causing trouble had them all in a panic. I think that’s why they have let me live so long.” He replied.
“Thank you. The way out behind us is clear. Be
careful and go that way only.” Lofgren told the man as he ran from the room. “Let’s go.”
They pushed further down the hall until they came face to face with the old man, and the short man. Behind them Claudia was making her way the backdoor. In order to get to her they would need to take out her two remaining personal bodyguards. Shots rang out loudly in the hallway. Kasparov felt a bullet graze his arm and watched as Lofgren was sent to the ground. They had hit what looked like his leg. Claudia’s bodyguards turned to run. Kasparov fired back at the Rico, striking his back and watched as he fell.
Then Samuel turned again and fired at Kasparov. The bullet tore through his shoulder making holding the gun a difficult task. It dropped to the ground as Kasparov drew the second pistol with his off hand. His aim was awful as he missed several shots trying to get a handle on using the wrong hand. Finally he managed to hit the man. A bullet ripped through the side of his head splashing brain matter on the wall.
Kasparov pulled the trigger again and hit Claudia in the back of the leg bringing her to the ground. He approached the injured woman. She cowered as she looked up at Kasparov. Lofgren had managed to pull himself up and limped over to them. Both men had guns raised to meet her tear filled eyes.
“You took something from both of us and for that you have to be punished.” Lofgren said as he fired a round in to her hand. Claudia screamed out in pain. “We have taken away your men, you are alone and you have failed. I don’t know what kind of life you can have after all of this.”
“What are you doing?” Claudia asked as Lofgren dropped to his knees and moved in. His face was buried in her hair as his hand gripped her throat.
“Leave this place. We have decided to let you live, for now.” Lofgren whispered in her ear. He pulled himself to his feet and raised a hand to Kasparov lowering his partner’s gun.
Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine Page 15