Secret Society

by Stuart R. West

  “What?”

  Leon nodded. “They’re using you. They wanted you to get rid of me, and they hoped you’d take yourself down doing it. And I have to say, you’re doing a hell of a job giving them what they want.”

  “Even if what you’re saying is true—and I’m not saying I believe you—what do you want? I mean…” He shrugged. “Why ain’t you done me yet? ‘S what I woulda’ done.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want to do this, but I need help. You’re the only one desperate enough to help me.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Take down LMI.”

  Cody stared at Leon with disbelief, as if Leon was the crazy one in the room. “And how you think you’re gonna’ do that?”

  “Wing it, I guess. These bastards have been playing with our lives. They’re the ones who broke the contract. They want us dead. Do you understand this?”

  Cody relaxed his shoulders, sat back. Ordinarily this behavior suggested non-defensive body language, but Cody could turn on a dime. Normal behavioral rules didn’t apply. “Yeah, sure, I guess. How you gonna’ find ‘em?”

  “I have their address. It’s in Los Angeles.”

  “Fine, whatever. Just cut me loose, old man.”

  Leon grabbed the knife on the tray and hesitated. “Cody, you do understand what I’m saying, right?”

  “I tole you already. Just cut me loose.”

  Leon knelt, cutting the rope around Cody’s ankles. Cody yanked his arms taut. The rope between his wrists popped in half. Lightning-fast, Cody swung both fists into Leon’s ears. A dull ringing clanged in Leon’s head, every external sound obscured. He jumped up, stumbled, arms flailing for balance. Cody leapt, taking Leon down with him. Leon’s head cracked against the floor. His teeth met together with a hard clack. A fist rocketed toward his face.

  “Nobody tells me what to do! Nobody!” Cody embellished each word with a punch.

  Leon levered his hands beneath Cody’s chest and shoved. Cody fell back, stunned. Leon shot to his feet. He knew he couldn’t take Cody by physical force. He dashed for the hypodermic across the room.

  Fast as a leopard, Cody countered, blocking Leon’s path. Another punch exploded into Leon’s gut. Leon swung his fists blindly, a useless defense mechanism. The momentum toppled Leon backward. He scuttled away like a crab until he reached the wall. Pinned with no way out.

  Exhausted, Leon tossed his hands in front of his face. “Okay, Cody, okay. Enough.” Cody hovered over him, fists clenched and pumped for round two. “You win. Believe it or not…I was trying to help you.”

  Cody dragged an arm across his bloodied mouth where Leon had managed one lucky blow. “Whatever, old man,” he roared. “I don’t need your help.”

  Again with the age thing.

  Anger took over. Leon snapped forward, curling his hands around Cody’s neck. Cody slipped, and Leon followed him down. “Don’t call me ‘old man’!” Leon squeezed. Color drained from Cody’s face. Cody coughed, flying spittle landing on Leon’s cheek.

  As if given an impossible second wind, Cody rocked up, butting his head underneath Leon’s chin. Leon’s hands fell away. He bounced back against the wall, happy for what little support it provided. Defeated, Leon slid down the wall into a sitting position.

  Cody stood over him, hands akimbo, a bully in a hoodie. “Just stay the fuck down, old man.”

  “I’m barely…into my forties. I’m not…old.” Leon spat blood. It hurt like a knife wound.

  Cody tossed back his head and shrieked. The echo in the tin-canned room pained every wracked muscle in Leon’s body. “Really, old man? You’re gonna’ get beat to death ‘cause you don’t like what I call you? Pathetic, old man, just pathetic.” Cody relaxed his battle stance and turned to leave.

  “Cody…you’re making…a huge mistake.”

  “Yeah? Won’t be the first time, but it’s better than teaming up with an old man on some kind of…Don Quixote crazy-ass quest, yo!”

  A crazed thought brought a bitter, throbbing smile to Leon’s lips. Cody knows who Don Quixote is?

  Sadly the idiotic kid might be right. Leon’s quest to attack LMI did seem ludicrous. Especially while sitting in a storage unit, mentally and physically broken down. No tilting at windmills. All hope lost. Leon watched his last hope swagger out the garage door.

  Once again alone.

  * * *

  Cody popped his neck, squared his shoulders. The garage door slammed down with a crash. He expelled icy breath, exulting in his victory.

  The old man didn’t hurt him too badly. Cody almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Not a fair fight, but it was ridiculous Garber thought he had a chance.

  What Garber said bugged Cody, though; bugged the shit out of him. Wyngarden wasn’t taking his calls. Didn’t make a bit of sense, either. Wyngarden needed him; the Denver Decapitator was way too important to be kicked to the curb like an ex-girlfriend. Garber was just full of shit. Jealous, too, no doubt.

  Garber’s car sat in front of him, screaming to be hot-wired. What the hell, why make life hard? He could just snag Garber’s keys. Getting cold out anyway.

  As Cody turned back, a shadow merged with his over the garage door. Someone coming up behind him, fast.

  Intuitively, Cody shot a hand up in front of his face. A rivulet of blood streamed out of his palm. Biting pain followed. The wire tightened.

  “LMI says hello and goodbye,” whispered the man.

  Cody slammed his head back, making contact. The wire dropped. Cody swung around. A large-built man in a muscle shirt staggered back. His eyes narrowed into blue slits over his broad, pug nose. A small thatch of strawberry blond hair crested his head, his eyebrows nearly invisible pencil strokes. Thick, jutting lips—a duckbill—curled into a grin.

  “Quack, quack, asshole!” Cody rammed the man into the garage door across the alley. His head left a small indentation in the door, but it didn’t faze him. Still smiling a sculpted smile as if the victim of bad plastic surgery.

  “You got this, Donnie?” another voice called out.

  The blond giant’s hands encircled Cody’s neck with room to spare. He lifted Cody six inches off the ground. Cody choked, all sound trapped in his throat. “No problem, Marie.”

  The other man stepped out, a yuppie dressed in “business casual”—all khakis, designer shirt, and pretentiously narrow, dark-framed glasses.

  The blond’s hands didn’t budge no matter how hard Cody wrenched at them. Useless. He extended his toes, sweeping the ground, searching for solid footing. Darkness—this time, comforting—pulled down its shade. He relaxed, welcoming death’s warm touch. At last, he knew what his victims felt. He was really sick of getting choked, though.

  Behind the blond, the yuppie suddenly crumpled to the ground. Garber stood over the body, his needle held aloft. The blond remained oblivious to Garber, his attention focused on choking the life out of Cody.

  Garber’s hand slashed down. A wet-sounding clump. The blond’s hands slipped away. Cody dropped on all fours, releasing his pent-up coughing. The blond turned to face Garber, grinning. Cody reached up and landed a blow to the blond’s kidneys. Garber hit him again with a wrench. Finally the man collapsed, still serenely smiling.

  Under the moonlight, Garber’s face looked whiter than bone. “Cody…do you believe me now?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Those dicks tried to kill me.” Cody sat up in the car, a kid exhibiting the adrenaline rush of a carnival thrill ride. Leon’s doubts doubled about enlisting this wild card. “They tried to kill me. Goddammit!”

  “Shut up, Cody. You’re not helping. We’ll be at the airport in twenty minutes or so.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” As he banged the roof, more blood spread across his rag-wrapped hand. “No one does that to Cody!” He sat silent for a moment, his mental cogs grinding like rusty machinery. “Still don’t know why you didn’t let me waste ‘em.”

  Leon also had second thoughts about leaving the two men alive. Ye
t his rules dictated his actions. Without rules, he wasn’t any better than the two assassins they left tied up and drugged in the storage unit. “Settle down. They’ll be out for hours.”

  They’d acted fast. After dosing the hit men, Leon removed anything incriminating in the storage unit. One last forget-me-not for the Missouri River on their way to the airport.

  “It sucks I can’t get any of my stuff.”

  “We don’t have time to get anything. We’re lucky to be leaving alive.”

  “Whatever. I see you got some of your shit.” Cody hitched a thumb toward Leon’s suitcase in the back seat.

  “Yeah, well, always be prepared. Look, once we hit L.A., I’ll buy you some clothes.”

  “Sucks leaving my stash behind.”

  It frightened Leon how swiftly Cody’s moods changed. Within minutes, he careened from a raging psychopath to a vulnerable child whining about his toys.

  “Our flight leaves in forty-five minutes. We’re not going back.” Leon took a risk booking a flight using their LMI-supplied names. No time to buy new identities. He felt the clock ticking, keeping pace with his beating heart.

  “Still can’t believe that pussy, Wyngarden, tried to have me killed,” groused Cody.

  “Believe it. How does it feel after all the crap you pulled on me?”

  Cody chuckled. “Yeah, business, yo! What can I say? Besides, I didn’t try and kill you.”

  “You may as well have, so thanks. Thanks a helluva lot. Because of you, we’re on the run.” And you ruined my life, Leon wanted to add, but he didn’t. Cody’s day of reckoning would come once Leon squared LMI away. For now, he needed Cody. As unlikely a scenario as that sounded.

  “Hey, don’t go pinnin’ it all on me, bitch. I was just following orders. You’re the one who got LMI pissed at you and everything. Still can’t believe they were using me.”

  “It’s all about you, isn’t it, Cody?”

  Leon drove onto KCI’s long-winding entry road. KCI airport had its merits; simplicity in structure made it easy to hop on a plane at the last minute, perfect for a quick getaway.

  They parked directly across from the terminal. Giving the car one final look-through, Leon slipped his computer into his suitcase.

  “Okay, we have about twenty-five minutes to check in and get on board,” Leon said. “Don’t wander. And do not call attention to yourself.”

  “What? I’m cool. Don’t worry about it.”

  Leon snorted, shook his head, couldn’t believe it. In dealing with Cody, worry came naturally.

  At their gate, Leon studied the surrounding area. Everything appeared as it should, business as usual. “Here’s your information.” He handed Cody a hand-written piece of paper. “It’s best if we don’t board together.”

  “Yo, I gotta’ go do something about my hand.” He waved it in the air, the blood-stained rag a definite attention grabber. “I’m gonna’ hit the head, clean it up some.”

  Leon touched his raw nose and cringed. Dried blood had collected below it. “Maybe we both better clean up.”

  Looking in the bathroom mirror, Leon grimaced at his tired and beaten appearance. He washed his face and dabbed soap on the blood spotting his shirt. A futile effort, he buttoned his jacket to cover the stubborn stains. “I’m getting in line now, Cody. Don’t be long.”

  “Okay, Dad, whatever you say.” Bloodied paper towels lined the sink counter, Cody’s soldiers wounded in battle.

  Cautiously, Leon stepped out of the bathroom. Not exactly the most bustling of airports but it played to his favor. To his right, people scurried, tugging ride-on suitcases behind them like obedient dogs. Down to the left, he spotted three men in suits who hadn’t been there before. Their hands were empty. Of course it wasn’t unusual for businessmen to check luggage in early, but something about them looked off. That time of night, suits seemed unlikely, unnecessary flying apparel. More telling, they lingered, their attention focused on flight-goers. People tended to get in and out of airports as fast as possible. Obviously, they were looking for someone. Him. LMI killers or cops, it didn’t matter. No time to take chances.

  One of them left, striding toward Leon.

  Leon backed into the bathroom. Cody’s startled gaze met his in the mirror. “What the hell? Thought you were getting your ticket.”

  Leon pressed his finger to his lips. “Someone’s out there. Three suits,” he whispered. “One’s coming this way.” Leon motioned for Cody to get into a stall. “Stand on the toilet and squat down. Don’t make a sound.”

  Leon entered the stall next to Cody’s, stepping up onto the seat. “Bolt the door.”

  The bolts slid shut with twin clacks. Water dripped from a faucet. A bored flight attendant announced something indecipherable and tinny, electronic yodeling. Leon’s legs wavered as he clutched his suitcase to his chest. His headache flared. Leaning his hand against the door for support, he closed his eyes.

  Someone entered. Hard shoes clicked over linoleum then stopped. Leon flinched when a stall door banged against the wall. The next door squeaked open and the one after that. Closer. A shadow crossed the floor beneath Leon’s stall door. Black shoe tips appeared. The door creaked from the pressure of fingertips. A light rap.

  “Is anyone in there? Hello?” The voice barely registered above a whisper. A small, significant sigh. A slight rustling, something pulled from a suit jacket.

  The door exploded open. Leon dropped onto the toilet seat. The man lowered his foot, a gun fit with a silencer in his hand. Clatter sounded from Cody’s stall. Startled, the man swiveled and saw Cody behind him. Leon grabbed the man’s jacket and pulled him back into his lap. Cody jackhammered a fist into his face three times. He snatched the gun and took aim. Leon sat helpless, pinned to a toilet by the assassin, dangerously close within Cody’s aim.

  Leon shoved the dazed man aside and jumped to his feet. “Careful, Cody, dammit!”

  Smiling, Cody squinted one eye and pointed the weapon at the man’s head. “Always wanted to check one of these out. Bang.”

  Leon shoved the gun down. “No.”

  After giving Leon an incredulous look, Cody relented and tucked the gun into his jeans’ waistband. “Whatever.” He by-stepped Leon, the stall claustrophobically crowded. Cody cracked the man’s head down onto the toilet seat. A slow trickle of blood spread across the white linoleum.

  “We’ve got to go now,” said Leon. “There’re at least two more of them out there.” Using his car key, Leon locked the stall’s bolt from the opposite side. “We’re not flying.”

  For once Cody said nothing, just nodded.

  “We need to get to the parking lot. We can’t use my car. I was an idiot to think they weren’t tracking us by the GPS system or a bug. Can you hot-wire a car?”

  “Hellz yeah!” Leon patted the air for Cody to tone it down. “Just find me an older model, and we’re out of here.”

  Leon peeked outside the bathroom. The two suits stood in front of the roped-off passenger section, their heads craning. The closest exit stood about 300 feet down the hall. “They’re in the ticketing area. There’s an exit in the other direction. Once we leave the bathroom, there’s a large seating area set into the front facing windows. If we can get through there unnoticed—make it outside—we’ll have a chance. Got it?”

  Cody’s eyes burned with excitement. “Let’s do it, yo!”

  Hugging the wall, they scuttled into the seating area. A family, with two small children, watched as Leon and Cody scooted along the front window’s length. The father snatched up his suitcase, holding it in his lap like a third child.

  Once Leon reached the sliding doors, he braved a look back. The man from the bathroom exited, holding a hand to his head. He gestured for his cronies’ attention.

  “Go!” Leon thrust Cody outside. Halfway down the terminal lane, a blue parking bus idled, chuffing out smoke from its tail-pipe. “Head for the bus!” Leon lagged behind Cody, suitcase banging at his side. The bus hissed. Its lights flashed o
n. The front wheels turned, preparing to leave.

  “Come on, old man! Move it!”

  “Make them wait for me,” Leon pushed out between breaths.

  Cody ran in front of the bus, waving frantically. To Leon’s amazement, the bus pulled back to the curb. The door clunked open. Leon stumbled in behind Cody, lugging his heavy suitcase up the steps.

  “Which lot?” asked the driver.

  “What’s the farthest one away?” said Leon.

  “Lot D.”

  Leon saw the three suited men gathered by the exit, heads swiveling in every direction. One of them appeared to be speaking into a hidden earpiece. “That’s where we’re going.”

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you let me jack one of the cars at the airport? There was an ass-load of ‘em.”

  Leon sighed, finding empathy for parents of toddlers. Everything had to be explained to Cody several times for him to grasp the simplest of logic. “As I said before, there’re security cameras everywhere at the airport. We wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  After leaving the bus they’d scrambled through a field, making their way to the nearest hotel two miles down the highway. Every time a car’s headlights approached, they hunkered down into the tall grass. Dew moistened the grass, soaking Leon’s shoes and socks. With Cody’s moaning, it seemed a much longer hike.

  Once they reached the hotel’s parking lot—an oasis in the middle of the desert—they considered their choices of transportation. Cody nixed several cars before settling on an old Impala. “Easy to get riding,” he boasted. Leon picked the locked door; then Cody cracked the steering wheel. They hit the road, no looking back.

  “Check out this shit. Nothing but dirt and fields, and cows and shit.” Cody repeated his observations often as they headed west on I-70 through the barren, flat plains of Kansas.

  Letting Cody drive seemed like a particularly bad decision; however, Cody insisted. Leon finally acquiesced, too exhausted to argue. His mind and body demanded rest, both pushed too far. Yet the idea of blindly putting his life into Cody’s hands kept sleep at bay.