Several more gunshots rang out. On the other side of the office, Cody shouted, “Take that, bee-yotch!”
By Leon’s estimate, three were down. Two to go, unless he miscounted.
Leon jerked his head up. A guard stalked away toward the direction of Cody’s battle cry. Leon followed, his gun wavering like a divining rod. He took aim. Glass crunched beneath his foot. The man whirled. Leon pulled the trigger before the guard brought his gun up. The bullet pierced the man’s throat. A small waterfall of blood gushed out. The bubbles. A sight Leon hoped to never witness again. The man dropped his gun, wrapped his hands around his throat and collapsed. Leon crumpled behind the nearest cubicle wall, head skyrocketing with pain. He pressed a hand over his mouth, attempting to silence his hysteria.
The bubbles! Oh, God, the blood bubbles!
“Got you now, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Leon looked up. The guard leaned over the cubicle wall, his gun close to Leon’s head. Suddenly the man’s arm withdrew like a retreating rabbit into a hole. The cubicle wall smashed down onto Leon. Leon clambered from underneath, fingernails digging into paper and office debris. Cody stood, grinning widely, where the guard had been seconds before. He held his gun regally like a queen’s scepter.
Leon jumped to his feet and looked at the now devastated, perforated office. Restless white paper wafted down to the floor. Ticks and clicks, the aftermath of gunplay, settled over the office. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Smoke drifted. A fax machine chirped like a persistent bird. When another cubicle wall belatedly tumbled over, Leon thought his heart exploded.
Beyond the outer-lying offices lining the walls, Leon saw two elaborate, wooden doors at the far end. Hanging on the wall beside the doors, a golden plaque read—damn near boasted—Arnold Wyngarden, CEO.
With Cody leading the way, they crept through the carnage toward Wyngarden’s domain. Every small sound chased Leon’s heart up into his throat. Cody still hugged the fire extinguisher, seemingly oblivious to it.
A man’s distorted reflection materialized in an office window, a gun in his hand.
“Cody!” The man bounded out of the office. Cody tackled him, bringing them both banging down. Leon shoved his last needle into the man’s throat. The man struggled before accepting unconsciousness.
Without saying a word, Cody rose and joined Leon.
Light leaked from underneath Wyngarden’s doors.
“Mr. Wyngarden,” called out Leon, “we need to talk. All of your men have been incapacitated.” Cody sniggered and flanked the left side of the doors.
Shadows blotted out the light seeping from beneath the doors. A small, but definite, click. A gun’s trigger. Leon dove to the right, embracing the wall. Bullets pierced the doors in an arc, shredding them into ragged, wooden teeth. Back-lit by the light in the office, someone looked out. A second volley of gunplay finished the doors. Hushed voices came from within the office, Wyngarden’s shrill voice rising above them.
Someone kicked at the destroyed doors, one of them flying off its hinges. A lone figure stepped out. The killer named Marie. He looked at the damage at his feet and beamed.
With a roar, Cody turned the fire extinguisher on him. Marie wagged his arms about, gasping for air. He fell to his knees, white-faced as a Kabuki actor. Once he regained his composure, he slipped his glasses off. Cody strolled over and pressed his gun to his temple. “This is for the other two times…bitch.” Marie’s head exploded. He fell forward onto the doors’ wreckage, white powder puffing up from the extinguisher’s chemicals. Leon surprised himself, thinking, it’s about time.
Leon stepped out of the shadows. Cody stood by him as they faced the open doors. A fat man in a suit sat in the center of the large office. Jowls working over-time, he attempted to speak and failed. His dark-framed glasses had fogged over from either sweat or tears. He remained glued to his chair, paralyzed.
“Hello, Mr. Wyngarden,” said Leon, walking into the room. “It’s nice to finally have an opportunity to speak with you.”
A muffled cry sounded out. Leon twisted. Behind Leon, Donnie held a beefy arm locked around Cody’s neck, a semi-automatic rifle pointed toward Cody’s head. “Hello, sweetheart,” purred Donnie. Leaning over, he peered through the destroyed door. “It’s a real shame about Marie…he owed me twenty dollars.” With the grace of a ballet dancer, Donnie tapped Cody’s gun to the far side of the room with his foot.
“Get off me, bitch!” Cody tugged at Donnie’s arm. They swayed back and forth as if entangled in a lover’s dance.
“Now, Leon, I suggest you drop your gun now, or your little buddy’s going to get ventilated.”
“Don’t!” Cody said. “He’s just gonna’ do us both anyway.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He pinched Cody’s cheek. “Leon, we’re just going to have to trust one another. The buddy system.”
“Shoot this dick, Leon!”
Leon held his gun on Donnie, his hand shaking. Donnie said, “Ah!” and “Here we go!” while playing an obscene game of peek-a-boo, bobbing his head behind Cody’s.
Leon didn’t trust his aim. And he knew he couldn’t take the shot. If he sprayed bullets, he’d hit his target, but Cody stood in the way. Like it or not, the kid helped him. Defeated, he lowered his gun.
“Good boy, Leon. It’s just fun and games here, after all.”
Cody dug his hand into his jacket pocket. Something snagged, then released. Light caught on a long shard of glass. Cody dragged it deeply across Donnie’s arm, a thin line of blood trailing behind it. Donnie gasped. His grip on Cody loosened. Cody dropped to the floor, coughing on all fours. Donnie’s other arm jerked up, releasing gunfire into the ceiling. The skylight exploded, glass hailing down upon them. Leon lunged for the out of control weapon, his hands coming up short on Donnie’s raised arms. Still on the floor, Cody sawed at Donnie’s ankle with his glass weapon. The blond howled again. The gun slipped from his grasp, still emitting bullets on its way to the carpet. Leon scooped the rifle up, prodding it underneath Donnie’s chin.
“I told you I’d kill you if you came after us again,” Leon growled.
Donnie quit squirming. “Really, Leon…must it be like this?” Leon watched the corners of Donnie’s mouth curl up into a devilish smile. Then he blew it off his face. This time Leon felt no repentance, no sudden pangs of sickness or guilt. No horrific flashbacks. Just stark death, a fact of life.
He strode with determination toward Wyngarden.
“No…no! Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Mr. Garber.”
“Too late, Wyngarden. I have many regrets from what you forced me to do this week. Taking care of you won’t be one of them.”
Wyngarden’s lips quivered. His stubby hands shot below the desk, scrabbling to open a drawer. Leon sauntered behind the desk. Spotting a gun inside the drawer, Leon slammed it shut on Wyngarden’s hand. A bone cracked. Or the drawer. Didn’t really matter. Leon pocketed the gun. Funny as how his gun collection grew, his fear diminished.
Wyngarden massaged his red and twisted hand, whimpering like a puppy. “What…what do you want?”
“I believe the pertinent question is what does LMI want from me? You ruined my life, Wyngarden!”
Wyngarden’s eyes grew nearly as wide as his oval-shaped mouth. “What do you mean?”
Cody walked up beside them. “Let me have a whack at this bitch!”
“Why have we been black marked? Why did you try and have us killed?”
A battalion of voices rose outside the office. Guns thrust through the devastated doorway. Successive clicks and clacks announced the men’s intent to shoot.
“Stop! Drop your guns!” Leon detected grogginess in their voices, identifying them as the tranquilizer survivors. The lucky ones.
“Stand behind Wyngarden, Cody. Keep your gun aimed on his head.” Leon hoisted his weapon, walking toward the men. “I suggest you gentlemen drop your guns and leave.”
“Don’t you dare do it,” screamed Wyngarden.
“He’s bluffing! Can’t you see that, you idiots?” Wyngarden struggled to stand up, his bad hand curled over his chest. “He hasn’t called the police. He’s—”
Cody slapped the back of Wyngarden’s head. “Shut up, dick!” Wyngarden slithered back to his chair.
“You wouldn’t risk arrest,” said a guard, but doubt registered in his voice. The others exchanged nervous glances.
“Do I look like I haven’t already risked everything? I have nothing to lose. Now, drop your guns.” Leon had sewn the seed of doubt, so he pressed on. “I’m giving you one more chance. One last chance to live. Even though you probably don’t deserve it. I suggest you drop your guns immediately and get the hell out of here if you value your freedom.” Leon threw his empty hand into the air. “Either way, your job here is finished.” The men backed away, dropping their weapons as they fled. “Do something good with your lives,” Leon called after them.
“Don’t you dare leave me here! I mean it. You’re all fired. I’ll—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cody slapped Wyngarden’s cheeks, the red marks giving him the appearance of a flushed, newborn baby.
“Now, start talking.” Leon sat on the edge of the desk, his gun pressed into Wyngarden’s stomach.
“Okay! Just…don’t shoot. I’ll talk. My life’s over now anyway…” He hunched over, sobbing. Cody raised his hand for another slap, but Leon stopped him with a shake of the head.
“Why are we black marked?”
Wyngarden threw his glasses to the desk with finality. He dragged a sleeve across his eyes. His round shoulders shuddered as he swallowed several deep gulps. “I honestly don’t know.”
Leon pressed harder with the gun barrel. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true! Damn it, it’s true.”
“You’re the CEO of LMI, Inc. How can the CEO not know why we’ve been black marked?”
Wyngarden looked stunned, switching his gaze between Leon and Cody. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Wyngarden giggled, his body shaking with fat-rippling tremors. “You don’t know.” He patted his stomach with a self-satisfied sigh. “You have no idea how big LMI is, do you?”
“Why don’t you tell us?”
“Just because I’m the so-called CEO doesn’t mean I call the shots. LMI is vast. It’s nationwide, and they want to go global. I’m just as much a pawn in their outfit as you two are.” His round smile covered his teeth, making him look even more like an infant.
“I’m no fuckin’ pawn, yo!”
Wyngarden flinched, defensively burying his face in his hands. “All I’ve been told is Mr. Garber’s in possession of information LMI holds very crucial to the continued success and well-being of their interests, meaning the difference between their end goals…or failure. They’re afraid of what you know.”
“I’ve figured that out already. Now, how about you tell me what this information is?”
“I’m not privy to such information.”
“Tell me!” Leon brought the gun up, jabbing it underneath his quivering double chin.
“For the love of God, I’m telling you, I don’t know!”
Leon lowered the gun. “Wyngarden, even if I had such damaging knowledge, I’m a man of my word. I would have honored my contract. Goddamn it! All of this. All of it. It’s been for nothing. I wouldn’t have said a word!”
“I’m afraid that’s just the way they are, Mr. Garber.”
Leon paced the floor, trying to work out his frustration. He knew they had limited time before the police arrived, but he was close, so damn close to the truth. He whipped out his phone and thrust the photograph of the old man into Wyngarden’s face. “Who is this?”
“I believe that’s Mr. Rasmussen.” Wyngarden’s demeanor brightened, looking very pleased with himself in spite of the circumstances.
“Who is ‘Mr. Rasmussen’?”
“Mr. Rasmussen is the true leader of LMI, Inc. He’s the one who ordered your—and Mr. Spangler’s—black marks.”
“Why you look so damn happy?” asked Cody.
“Because, my young, desperate friend…I, too, am now desperate. My life is over, just like yours. I’ve become, ah, a liability to LMI. It’s just a matter of time—”
“So, you think this is the reason they’re after me, Wyngarden?”
“If I had to venture a guess, yes. Mr. Rasmussen likes to keep, ah, an extremely low profile. It’s very unusual for him to be photographed.” Wyngarden’s smile faded as if recalling his inevitable destiny.
“Listen to me, and listen carefully. Answer this truthfully, and you might live. What are their plans? What is it they’re trying to accomplish?”
“From what I gather, they’re attempting to build their own—let’s call it, ‘security force’—around the country—eventually, the world. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”
“Which is?”
“Control of the world’s economy, of course.” Wyngarden looked appalled at Leon’s failure to grasp his logic. “This security force is sent out after people whom LMI deems as obstacles to their goals.”
Leon slumped down into a chair across from Wyngarden. It all made sense, and it made him sick. “And we’re…the ‘security force’?” Wyngarden nodded. “Goddamn it. Goddamn it!”
“What the hell, yo? I don’t get it.”
“Cody, LMI is using their associates—us—to kill people they see as obstacles to their political ambitions. It’s just been a big…lie!”
Wyngarden spread his hands apologetically. “While this is…becoming more true, Mr. Garber, not all of the, ah, projects have been as such. We actually did supply you with quite a number of bonafide, ah, abusers.”
Leon’s head banged away, extreme pain circling and digging inward. “Robert Van Deusen. Was he an abuser? Or was he…an obstacle?” Wyngarden hemmed, stuttered, stalled for time. “Answer me!”
Wyngarden clamped his eyes tight, stress wrinkles gathering at the corners. “He wasn’t an abuser…”
Leon shot up, grabbed Wyngarden’s collar, yanking him out of his chair. “Speak up.”
“He was not an abuser.”
“Goddamn you, Wyngarden. You made me kill an innocent man.” Leon shook Wyngarden, practically loosening the tears from his ducts.
“It wasn’t me, Mr. Garber. It was LMI. I was just following their directive—”
“But you issued the killing order. For all I know, he was a good man. A good father.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Garber. They—LMI—they saw Mr. Van Deusen as standing in the way. He wanted his wife to quit politics—to remain at home raising their children. LMI didn’t want that to happen.”
Leon released Wyngarden, dropping him back onto his throne of blood. “Goddamn you. Goddamn you all…” Leon’s headache spiked, nearly doubling him over. He vowed to never take the life of an innocent. LMI destroyed his rules. He was no better than the rest of them.
“So, where the fuck do I fit into all this, Wyngarden?” Cody’s scream ripped through Leon’s blinding headache.
Wyngarden laughed, a mirthless sound. “Mr. Spangler, you were nothing but a tool to dispose of Mr. Garber. We’d never want your kind in LMI. You’re nothing but a wild, undisciplined animal. You’re—”
“Nobody says that about Cody Spangler, you son-of-a-bitch.”
“Cody…” As if in a dream-state, powerless, Leon watched Cody pick up the letter opener. “Cody, don’t…”
Then Cody plunged it into Wyngarden’s throat.
“Cody, I still have questions for him.”
“You don’t get to judge me, bitch. You fucked up my life, too! You’re nothing. You’re—” Cody’s words melted into inhuman gibberish.
Leon grabbed Cody’s hand in mid-air. Cody’s fist exploded into Leon
’s gut, forcing him back. Cody straddled Wyngarden’s body. To Leon’s horror, Cody’s arm worked back and forth, sawing through Wyngarden’s throat with the letter opener.
“Cody…oh, God…please stop…” Blood splashed onto Cody’s gray suit, coloring it a deep, coffee brown, almost black. Wyngarden’s eyes rolled back in his head. His dead tongue lolled about like a fat, pink slug. “Cody, stop it!”
Cody turned, wielding the weapon above his head. Blood covered his face. His eyes blazed with madness. The smile somehow seemed even worse, one of unfettered exhilaration.
Leon finally knew what he tried to deny. Cody was stark-raving insane.
Now Leon had to figure out what to do with Cody Spangler.
Chapter Twenty
After the slaughter, Leon avoided looking at Wyngarden’s bloodied corpse. Yet Wyngarden’s computer, regardless of the blood-splattered screen, blazed like a shining star.
Cody stood, dazed, delirious, wearing his war paint and a lunatic’s grin. Leon prodded him to the closest restroom. While Cody cleaned himself—surprising he could do so in his state of mind—Leon foraged the body in the stairwell. The suit jacket fit tight on Cody, but at least it lacked crimson blood. They walked down all thirty flights, increasing their speed as police sirens wailed in the distance. One final floor led them to the basement parking garage where they exited onto a side street.
“Cody! Cody, listen to me.” The police sirens grew louder, cherries flashing at the end of the block. “Move it. Now!” Leon pushed him down the sidewalk, Cody stumbling along like a drunken man. “Are you able to get us a car? Cody!”
Cody’s eyes regained focus. Leon swore he saw his soul swimming out of the murk. “Chill out. Yeah, I can get a car.”
To Leon’s amazement, Cody had a Chevrolet running in minutes, and they hit the road.
Leon didn’t look back until they put the state of California in their rearview mirror. He wanted sleep (dreamless, please) more than anything, but he couldn’t allow himself the luxury. Not yet. Between Cody’s frightening and erratic behavior, LMI, and the police, sleep seemed like an impossible fantasy.
Secret Society Page 27