James’ face contorted in confusion as he took in the idea.
“Would they really do that?”
“It looks that way. I’m not saying they won’t try to protect you, but they’ve still left you in the crosshairs.” Tanner lowered his voice. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
James nodded. “Yeah, growing up around here, I held my first gun when I was only seven, but I never joined a gang like Jerold did.”
Tanner reached inside the leather jacket he was wearing and brought out a small gun. It was a pocket pistol, a Kimber Solo.
“Take this, just in case the cops aren’t enough.”
James took the gun, checked it, and saw that a round had been chambered.
“My mother would kill me if she knew I had this.”
“And she might die if you don’t. Keep the gun, James. You’re better off having it than not.”
“Yeah, and thanks,” James said. The gun was slipped into his pocket only moments before his mother and Sara returned.
Sara was holding a cup and sipping from it. When their eyes met, Tanner sent her another nod, telling her that James accepted the gun.
* * *
Outside, a hooded figure turned down an alleyway adjacent to the building that sat beside the one where James’ apartment was. When he determined no one was looking, he used a knife to open the lock on a basement window.
After lying on the ground, the male shape slithered in backwards through the window and lowered unto the floor. The man groped around for a few moments, but after a flashlight was turned on, his movements became surer.
The building he was in was a duplicate of the one where James lived. They were built side-by-side and pressed against each other like rowhouses. In fact, they shared the same basement space, which was only separated by a piece of plaster that had crumbled away over the years.
The man moved through the gap and into the space that was below James’ apartment. After creeping up the worn basement steps while trying to minimize the creaking they made, the man eased open the basement door, which was at the end of a hallway.
A damn cop, the man thought, as he looked at Officer Collins. Collins was staring down at his phone as he composed a text message.
The door was eased shut again, and the man returned to the basement, where he stood on an old metal crate that once held milk deliveries. The crate allowed him to peer out a dusty basement window and gain a view of the street.
When Tanner and Sara emerged from the building, the man in the hood wondered if they were police detectives. He decided that Sara might be one, but not Tanner. The man didn’t know who or what Tanner was, but he knew law when he saw it, and Tanner was no cop.
He watched as Tanner’s car pulled away from the curb, then kept an eye on the street.
They won’t try anything until it’s dark, he thought. And that cop won’t mean shit to them. It will be up to me to stop them.
The man’s name was Jerold Washington. He was there to protect his family.
38
The Client
OUTSIDE PORTLAND, OREGON, JANUARY 2003
In 1978, Tommy Merensky was a fourteen-year-old growing up in the suburbs of Cleveland when the Jonestown Massacre occurred in Guyana. Tommy was awed by the fact that a single man, Reverend Jim Jones, could talk so many people into ending their lives.
The personal power that implied boggled Tommy’s mind and he wanted to someday be the leader of a large group. He read everything he could get his hands on about forming a religion or cult, then, he went to work creating one.
Tommy’s attempts to create a new religion with himself at the center made him an outcast and a weirdo in his Ohio high school. When he went to college in southern California, that all changed.
Tommy had nineteen devoted followers by the time his junior year rolled around. Half of what little money they made working part-time went toward the church fund.
With graduation only months away, Tommy had over a hundred followers; some of the lovelier young ladies served as his personal harem.
A good chunk of the church funds went to buy Tommy a limousine, the rest he spent on buying an old farm with several outbuildings.
In June of 1993, inside the church they had constructed, Tommy announced to the then eight-hundred members of the congregation that he’d had an epiphany. That was when he declared himself a god and renamed himself Kabell. When one of the newer members of the church laughed at Kabell and told him he was insane, Kabell pointed at the man and commanded him to die.
The man waved a dismissive hand at Kabell before clutching his chest and keeling over in the aisle. Another new member of the church was known to be an ex-army medic. He checked the fallen man and found that he had no pulse. Both the “dead” man and the medic were unemployed actors Kabell had hired. They were paid handsomely for their help and the respect and awe for Kabell grew among his people.
The intervening years saw the church grow and prosper as more land was purchased and buildings built to house them all. Kabell also thrived financially, as a select group of his members ran a lucrative marijuana business for him.
Recently, after a small private jet crashed onto church property, the authorities became aware of the drug operation. After that, they learned of Kabell’s child brides, the daughters of his followers. Some were as young as eleven.
Mass suicide never appealed to Kabell, although he admired the display of personal power it evidenced. Instead of ordering his followers to kill themselves, Kabell had left them to their own devices and snuck out of the compound one night.
He had a fortune of over ten million dollars and had left with a slew of suitcases and his current favorite wife. The “wife” was named Cindy. She was a beautiful redhead with large startling green eyes. Cindy had been trained to serve Kabell and worship him since the day she was born. Cindy was two weeks shy of turning fourteen.
* * *
Kabell and Cindy were meeting with Abadandi and Dr. Calavechi inside Abadandi’s office. The doctor, like Kabell, was not one to hold to the restrictions society placed against having sex with underaged girls. Before coming to the Citadel, Calavechi was about to be indicted on six counts of statutory rape. The doctor had been volunteering his services at a clinic, where he molested several pre-teens. In a sense, Dr. Calavechi was the Citadel’s oldest client.
* * *
Cindy reached into the oversized cloth purse she carried. Abadandi had watched her walk into the office with it and noticed that it appeared to be heavy. Young Cindy had been tilting sideways as she struggled along with it.
The girl’s hand emerged from the purse and was holding the invitation that Abadandi had sent to Kabell three years earlier. It was a piece of metal the size of an index card that had a phone number engraved on it, along with the words, Call if you ever need a place to run to—The Citadel.
Kabell had needed such a place, as Abadandi guessed he someday might. He sent out a hundred such invitations a year to those he deemed prospective clients; about ten percent of them paid-off.
“Welcome to the Citadel, Kabell. My name is Richard Abadandi and I’m the director here. Let me assure you, sir, that your worries are over.”
Kabell was a tall and thin man with a receding hairline. He was dressed in a one-piece black bodysuit made of Lycra. The suit had boots built into it and left only his neck, face, and hands exposed. It was also skin-tight. On the television, the media referred to it as his God-suit.
Kabell’s dark-eyed gaze had been called imposing over the years. As a younger man, he had worked on perfecting that gaze while staring in a mirror for hours.
“I never thought I’d have need of your services, Mr. Abadandi, but I’m glad I held on to that invitation.”
“Yes, now why don’t we get our business out of the way.”
Kabell raised an eyebrow in inquiry, but then he understood what Abadandi was asking for. The man wanted to be paid.
“Cindy, hand Mr. Abadandi that parcel I gave y
ou.”
The girl complied, and a large package wrapped in brown paper emerged from the purse. It contained a million dollars in cash and weighed over twenty pounds.
Abadandi was surprised that Kabell had trusted the child with the invitation and the cash. However, Kabell never carried anything on his person; his one-piece bodysuit had no pockets.
Abadandi took the envelope from the nervous girl and deposited it in the floor safe behind his desk. Later, he would count the contents while alone.
“I’m assuming you’ll want to use Dr. Calavechi’s services?” Abadandi asked.
Kabell looked over at the doctor and caught him staring at Cindy.
“I’ll have to have my face changed, won’t I? They’re showing my picture on TV every five seconds.”
“And what about the young lady?” Abadandi asked, referring to Cindy. Cindy was wearing a white dress that hung down to her ankles and buttoned at her neck. It gave her the appearance of being virginal, which she was not. Kabell had taken her virginity on her tenth birthday.
Despite her upbringing in the cult, Cindy was a true innocent. She thought of Kabell as her God, father, and best friend all rolled into one. As long as she was by his side, all was right in her world.
Kabell reached over and caressed Cindy’s cheek.
“I wouldn’t dream of messing with such perfection as my bride’s face, but perhaps I’ll have her dye her hair dark for a while.”
“Fine, now let me show you to your quarters.”
* * *
As they walked along the corridors of the Citadel, Abadandi explained that it would be best for Kabell if he and Cindy stayed inside their suite during their time in the Citadel.
“We don’t have any other guests at the moment but that can always change, and I’m sure you want your privacy.”
“What is there to do here?” Kabell asked.
“Not much I’m afraid, but there is satellite TV and a large library in your quarters. We’ve also stocked the Scotch you requested over the phone.”
“What about women?”
“I’m afraid not. It would be a risk, as you can imagine.”
Kabell frowned. “I’ll have to make do with Cindy.”
“Um, yes,” Abadandi said. He was repulsed by the thought of Kabell molesting the girl, but a client was a client. Besides, it really didn’t matter to Abadandi what Kabell did or didn’t do. He had the man’s fee locked in his safe, which was all he cared about. When Abadandi looked over at his cousin, Dr. Calavechi, he saw that the man was staring at Cindy’s ass, while licking his lips.
Pervert, Abadandi thought.
As they neared the wing of the facility that housed the client quarters, the foursome passed within the vicinity of Jack and Ann Begley, who stood beside one of the supervisory guards, Serge.
* * *
“What do you mean she’s his wife?” Ann Begley asked her husband. “That girl is just a child.”
They were still in the corridor with Serge, after having watched Kabell walk by with Abadandi and the doctor. Ann had believed Cindy to be Kabell’s daughter. Then, Begley told her the truth.
“Quiet down or they might hear you,” Begley told her. “And yeah, that girl is one of his wives.”
“How is that possible?” Ann said.
“When you call yourself a god and start a religion, you get to make the rules,” Serge told her. “I heard on the news that Kabell’s youngest wife was only eight.”
The disgust she was feeling was written on Ann’s face.
“Why is a degenerate like that allowed in here?”
“Honey,” Begley said in a soothing voice. “Protecting scumbags and outlaws is the Citadel’s main function, remember?”
“I know that, Jack, it’s just… and you want to stay here and keep helping men like that?”
“I don’t give a damn about the clients. It’s the Citadel I care about, and what it stands for. No one has ever broken in here, although some of the world’s best assassins have tried. Keeping that record intact, having that rock-solid reputation, that’s what I love about this place. The Citadel is a fortress that has never been breached, has never lost a client, and it will stay that way under my watch.”
Ann shook her head as she stared at her husband.
“You’ve become obsessed with this place, but I’m not. I’m going back home when my tour ends.” Ann looked at Serge. “And you, I suppose you’re staying on too?”
Serge sent her a shrug. “There’s nothing outside of the place I care about. Why shouldn’t I keep working here and let the money pile up in my bank account? By the time I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll be set for life.”
Ann hugged herself and looked around the dimly-lit corridor. “I’ve had more than enough of this place.” She walked off in the direction of her quarters.
“You have an unhappy woman there, buddy,” Serge told Begley.
“I know, but I don’t know what to do about it. We just see things in different ways.”
Serge sighed. “Those were the same words my wife said to me before I came here six years ago. I haven’t seen her since, but I’m sure she’s moved on.”
“After six years? I’d bet you’re right, Serge.”
“Yeah, buddy, and Ann might do the same to you.”
Begley shook his head as if he were trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought.
“Enough about me. Let’s grab Mike, and then the three of us will sit down in the mess hall and make out a new schedule. We have a guest to guard now.”
“Two guests; don’t forget the little girl.”
“I try not to think about her. Ann is right. Kabell is a degenerate.”
“And we get to make sure he stays safe. Some job we have, huh?”
Begley let out a huff of breath and started for the mess hall.
39
Lured Away
THE BRONX, OCTOBER 2018
Detective Rayna Owens sighed with pleasure as rookie police officer Jude Collins slipped his hand inside her bra. They were in the vestibule, near the staircase that led to the upper floors.
Owens had taken the younger Collins into her bed on the night her divorce became final. She’d been intoxicated, as well as saddened by the ending of her marriage, and bedding a man, any man, as long as it wasn’t her ex, had seemed a good idea at the time.
It hadn’t been, and could have turned out horribly, but it wasn’t the worst move she had ever made either. The morning after, Rayna dreaded going into the station. Rayna had imagined that the younger Collins would have bragged of his conquest to anyone who would listen.
Instead, when Collins greeted her the next day, he did so by addressing her as Detective Owens, and never let on that they shared more than a working relationship.
It was Collins ability to be discreet that persuaded Rayna that she should continue the relationship. It also didn’t hurt that the blond and handsome Jude Collins was a stud in the sack.
Rayna took hold of Jude’s right wrist and moved his hand away from her breasts.
“Not here and not now,” she said.
Jude grinned at her. “I guess I got carried away.”
“I hate this duty. If Biggs is coming, I wish he would hurry up and get here. He’s cramping our love life.”
“I’m working a double, so I’ll be here all night with you, at least we’ll be together.”
“Then come home with me in the morning, we can share a bed, even if it’s just to sleep.”
“Oh, we’ll do more than sleep, you can count on that.”
Rayna giggled. Then sobered when she heard her partner calling her name. She left the vestibule and walked toward James’ apartment, where Pearson was standing in the doorway and looking in the opposite direction. As she drew closer, she realized that her blouse was gapped open and her bra was exposed. She buttoned it right before Pearson turned his head to look at her.
“Where were you?”
“I was looking in on the rookie.”
/>
“What? Was he asleep?”
“No, he was checking the stairwell.”
“Okay, and I’m going outside for a smoke. The kid and his mom went to their bedrooms, so keep the volume on the TV down.”
“I’ll probably turn it off; I hate late-night television.”
“So do I, but what else is there to do?”
“I brought a book with me.”
“Books take too much effort.”
Rayna laughed. “Go have your smoke.”
* * *
A block away, where there was an all-night convenience store, the security guard on duty was named Reggie. He was bored out of his mind and his feet hurt.
Things improved when two girls entered the store. Despite the chilled night air, the young women were dressed in short skirts and halter tops.
Both girls smiled at Reggie while sending him equally admiring glances. He was so captivated by them that he barely registered the tinkling of the bell as another customer entered.
The newest pair of customers made Reggie forget all about the girls when one of them pressed a shotgun against the back of his head.
“Hand over your gun, bitch,” a voice said. When Reggie turned his head, he saw two men wearing ski masks.
“Take, take it, here, here,” Reggie stuttered as he handed over his gun. As that was happening, the other man was telling the cashier to empty the till.
Once they had the money, the two men stood shoulder to shoulder and began firing the shotguns at the shelves. They weren’t there to rob the store, no, that was just a bonus. They were there to lure Rayna and Pearson away from the apartment house.
The two girls who had distracted Reggie moved past the shooters and went outside. It was time for them to do part two of their act.
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