by Jack Parker
Victor harrumphed in return. "You can call me Vic."
"I'm honored."
Victor saluted her lazily and kicked his feet up onto the dash. "So…were you yanking Emery's chain before or did you really own big hairy spiders as a kid?"
"Certainly. I had a pair of them for several years."
"Okay, I have to ask. Why?"
"Why not?"
"No, really," Victor insisted. "Why? Spiders are shit animals. What's the point of a pet you can't pet?"
"They're peaceful. Low maintenance. Quiet."
"So are rocks. Except they don't bite."
"Neither do spiders if you know what you're doing."
"So it's for looks. Like a goldfish or something. I get that—but he named that thing. Like it was a housecat."
Georgie straightened up. "Mine had names. Jayne Eyre and Marcus Aurelius."
Victor stared at her uneasily before leaning back. "Spider people. You're all fucking crazy."
"I take it you never had any pets."
"Are you kidding? The property I grew up on was practically a farm. My aunt and uncle owned four cats, two dogs, chickens, ducks, a frog pond. This shitty pony you couldn't get near without it taking a nut-shot. I'm plenty familiar with animals, but spiders were what we called 'pests'."
"Spend some time with Fidget. Perhaps she'll grow on you."
"Yeah. So will Ludkov, right?"
Georgie chuckled. "You never know."
Little was said during the remaining car ride after that, but things were definitely less tense. A couple of hours later Georgie pulled over at the nearest rest stop to regroup and Victor got out of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs. He went around, opening the back door and slapping his hand on Emery's chest. Emery's eyes fluttered open. "Wha's…?"
"Get up. It's show time."
"What?" Emery held a hand to his head and then looked at his watch. "God. Have I been out this whole trip?"
"Like a light. Come on, buddy. Let's get you an energy drink."
Emery stumbled out of the car and squinted at Georgie, who was heading into the shop. "Sorry, Victor. Mmf…" he rubbed his eyes with a hand. "I hope that wasn't awkward. I know you two don't get on well."
"Don't worry about it," Victor reassured. "We sort of smoothed things over. She's…okay I guess."
Emery looked at him with surprise. "Ah…you two getting cozy, then?"
Victor sneered lightly. "Yeah man, wedding's Tuesday."
"And she's not even thirty yet. That's quite a leap for you."
Victor looked towards the shop and then back to Emery. "We're almost there. Are you ready to do this?"
Emery looked down at himself and reached up, pulling his sling away with a hand. He tossed it into the car and flexed his arm gently. "Don't worry about me. Easy job, right? In and out. No problem."
He was exuding perfect confidence. Whatever had transpired in that head of his between yesterday morning and last night had obviously made some improvements to his attitude. Victor had to admit he felt pretty good about this one too. When Emery was focused they actually worked pretty well together. "You bet."
* * *
Isaacs lived in a nice home. It was tall, a bit narrow, in the nice part of town and made of dark brick. Emery cased the house from the car window, contemplating how to go about this. Ludkov had described him as a typical civilian. A no-frills, law-abiding citizen. It didn't seem all that just to go busting in his door and demanding information. "Let's try and do this nicely," Emery suggested.
Victor looked back at him. "I'm always nice."
"I just mean that if we can avoid making a scene then we probably should."
"Yeah, yeah," Victor said, swiping a hand at him. "Don't worry. I already planned to let you do all the talking."
"Much obliged…"
"Ten minutes early," Georgie said as she looked at her clock. "Isaacs very much appreciates punctuality. If you want to make a good impression you'd best head in now."
Victor and Emery nodded and slipped out of the car. Emery went around to the driver's side and bent over Georgie's window. "Shouldn't take us long. Pull around just over there and we'll meet you as soon as it's finished."
"Roger that."
Emery patted the top of the car and accompanied Victor to the front door. He rang the bell and waited patiently. When the door opened, a small, middle-aged housemaid opened the door, eying them mildly. "Are you Mr. Isaacs's four o'clock?"
Emery leaned forward. "Yes, that's us."
"Mm, alright, come on in. He's just in his study."
Emery and Victor stepped into the house. It was perfectly orderly inside. Everything was straight, symmetrically decorated, not a speck of dust on any given surface. It felt an awful lot like an accountant's home. They waited in the hall while the maid went off to inform the master of the house that company had arrived and Victor stopped to stare up at a large painting of a nude woman. He observed it for a moment before turning over a shoulder to look at Emery. "Classy guy."
Emery himself was busy peering at a stuffed quail mounted on the wall near the entrance. It was oddly incongruous with the rest of the décor. "I suppose."
The maid returned shortly with a beckoning arm. "Mr. Isaacs will see you now. Come along this way."
Emery offered an appreciative smile and followed her down a long corridor. The house around him was so immaculate that he felt bad just stepping on its carpet. He hoped that this job was really as easy as it seemed to be on the outset, because he didn't like the idea of roughing up an innocent party. As soon as he stepped into the study, however, that concern evaporated. Isaacs was a tall man, somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties with graying hair and a face that was immediately familiar. Emery's gut tightened. He'd seen this man before, but where? Perhaps he'd had some affiliation with Hunter at some point, maybe he'd seen him in passing. Shit. If Isaacs recognized Emery then this would be an abrupt disaster.
"You're early," Isaacs said. His eyes fell on Emery, but gave nothing away.
Emery quickly gathered his wits and nodded. "Not too early, I hope."
Isaacs shook his head. "I respect a man who seeks to get straight to business. Sit." He motioned to two chairs seated in front of his desk and went over to his own chair.
Emery took a look around the office as he sat down. It was as polished as the rest of the house, but the walls were covered in taxidermy. They were all birds of some sort. Vultures and hawks, little falcons. Owls hid up in the corners of the room and a great heron stood near the edge of a small fireplace. The man had his interests, clearly. His desk was free of clutter but had several locked drawers and a large black filing cabinet sat behind him against the wood-paneled wall. "Lovely of you to see us on short notice. I hope we didn't put you out."
"Rest assured that I do not inconvenience myself for anything, Mr…"
Emery held out his hand. "Terrence Wexler. This is my associate Mr. Barnes."
Isaacs shook it once firmly before taking a pen from his jacket and beginning to scrawl the false name down onto a file folder. "I understand that you'd like my firm to take you on. Tell me about your business."
Emery thought about this for a long moment. The ruse was pointless at this juncture. "Actually, no."
Isaacs looked up.
Emery glanced at Victor before shaking his head. "That isn't why we're here."
Isaacs sat back, setting down his pen. His face was stern. "Surely you don't mean to waste my time."
"No, and I don't intend to waste mine. So let's, as you say, get straight to business," Emery replied. "You work with a man by the name of Geoffrey Garner. Is that correct?"
Isaacs's eyes shifted between Emery and Victor heatedly for a moment. "My other clients are not subject to discussion. If this is all you've come for then you'll be leaving straight away."
"I'm afraid that won't do."
"Won't it?" Isaacs stood, leaning over his desk. He was quite an intimidating fellow even in hi
s advanced years. "Perhaps you'd like an escort to show you the way, hm? I haven't the time or the patience for nonsense."
"Mr. Isaacs," Emery said. He frowned, producing his gun and setting it calmly on its side at his knee. "I have the utmost desire that this conversation remain civil."
Isaacs looked down at the gun without fear. Instead his eyes smoldered, boring back into Emery's with clear challenge.
"Please sit," Emery requested, gesturing to the chair.
For a moment he didn't think the old man would comply. He continued staring hard at Emery as if daring him, but then slowly sat back down in his desk chair.
Emery nodded. "Thank you. Now, I understand that your time is valuable, so I won't take much of it. I only need a bit of information on Mr. Garner."
"Then I suggest you find him," Isaacs said, sneering down at the gun.
"No need. You've got everything I need to know here with you, I'm betting."
"How dare you," Isaacs rumbled. "You come into my home brandishing a gun and demanding information you've got no right to? You'll be jailed for this."
"Mr. Isaacs, if you refuse to give me what I want, I'm going to find it myself. I don't think you want a grubby crook like me thumbing through all your earthly possessions, do you? I'm offering you a chance to keep an iota of privacy here."
Isaacs simply curled a lip.
Emery nodded, standing up. Victor pulled out his gun and trained it on Isaacs as Emery went around to the side of the desk and tugged open a few drawers. Inside was nothing but stationary and pencils. No weapons within range, but he did find a key for the filing cabinet in the next drawer over. He could feel Isaacs's irate gaze as he went over to it.
"You will not get away with this," Isaacs informed. "I manage the accounts of one of the city's largest law firms. You won't see the light of day until you're my age when I'm through with you."
"Cool it, Pops," Victor said.
The look Isaacs gave him was positively menacing.
Emery unlocked the drawers of the cabinet and began digging through them. He had to give the man credit for being organized. Each maroon file folder was labeled in meticulous handwriting, perfectly legible and dated. The first drawer only showed him letters A through E, so he shut it up and pulled open the next. Ferris, Foxworth, Fredericks, Gabler, Gardn—
Gabler.
…Kurt Gabler, to be precise.
Emery's stomach dropped. He jerked back, blinking in disbelief at the name on the file. Isaacs had a file on Kurt. Why did Isaacs have a file on Kurt?
"You find it?" Victor prodded.
Emery whirled around, snatching Isaacs by the shirtfront and holding up his gun.
"Whoah, hey!" Victor snapped, standing up.
Emery pulled Isaacs closer. "You bastard…you're a part of this."
Isaacs continued his baleful stare, but a thread of confusion touched his eyes. "Get your hands off of me," he warned.
Emery clenched his teeth. "Tell me what you know. What happened to Kurt?"
"Kurt?" Victor repeated in confusion. His eyes darted between the filing cabinet and Emery.
Isaacs's eyes flared with rage. "What did you just say?"
"Kurt Gabler. You know who he is! You've got his name on record. Why? Where is he?" Emery demanded louder.
Isaacs continued staring crossly for some time before he narrowed his eyes. "Dead."
Emery instantly saw red. A voice screamed inside his head so loud that it deafened him, the blood rushing past his ears, his heart seizing like someone had reached into his chest and squashed it to a pulp. He wrenched Isaacs over painfully on his desk, drawing a surprised grunt from the man as he jammed his gun into his temple. "You'd better be lying!" he snarled loud enough to make Victor jump. "I'll tear you apart bit by bit you miserable fucking cunt, don't you fucking lie to me!"
"It's the truth," Isaacs growled in return.
Gone. Kurt was gone. Dead. Murdered. He'd failed, he'd failed, he'd failed. "No!" Emery refused. "He'd better not be. He'd better not be, or you and everything you've ever loved will burn for it!"
Isaacs huffed and slowly shook his head. "What sort of ridiculous farce is this? How have you got the gall to ask me about him as if it's any business of yours, you blithering twit? You don't know Kurt. If you did, you'd be well aware that he's been dead for four years."
Confusion battled back Emery's mounting psychotic breakdown. Four years? Four years…since 2012. When Kurt staged his death…Emery looked down, trying to make sense of it. Then he caught Isaacs's gaze and a frigid realization crashed over him. He now knew why he recognized Isaacs. It was his eyes. He'd seen those eyes before, staring out at him from a thousand different angles, sultry and sweet, longing and loving. His hold on Isaacs's shirt loosened and his jaw dropped. "My god, you're…" he uttered. "You're his father."
Chapter 14
Isaacs was warier than ever, looking like a vicious but very confused dog as his eyes flipped between Emery and Victor. Emery stood with a hand to his head, heart pounding, feeling like he was in a daze.
"Okay, what the fucking shit is going on?" Victor asked.
"You never married his mother. He has her name," Emery rambled in shock.
"Who in the hell are you?" Isaacs demanded.
Emery ignored him and went back to the cabinet, grasping Kurt's file and opening it. Sure enough, it was full of records. His birth certificate. His social security card. His last valid driving license. He felt sick and worried and relieved and like he could laugh and cry all at once. There was a picture stuck between a few papers. Kurt was just a little boy, perhaps four, sitting on a stone patio somewhere with a long black cat in his arms and a characteristically suspicious expression turned towards the camera. On the back was scrawled in flowing handwriting: Kurt und Geppetto, 1986. Emery felt slightly faint.
"Dude, what the hell?" Victor said. "Are you seriously telling me we're holding Gabler's dad at gunpoint here?"
Emery dug through a few more things in the file. He found within it an aged envelope, still sealed, with Kurt's name printed on the front. In the corner was an address in Munich…He quickly pulled it out and studied it.
"Don't touch that," Isaacs ordered. "Get your bloody hands off of my things!"
Emery suddenly remembered that Isaacs was there and his eyes flashed to him angrily. "Your things?"
"Yes. Put that down, leave those be."
Emery looked at the envelope again before tucking it into his inside jacket pocket. "Kurt's things, you mean."
"Kurt is dead. You will not take that!" Isaacs jabbed a finger back at the filing cabinet.
"What do you care?" Emery clipped. "Were you such a loving father to him that you think he'd will you his belongings? Or is he just another of your things you mean to keep locked up?"
Isaacs practically vibrated with anger. "What right do you think you have? Who are you?"
"I'm the only man in this room who loves your son."
"Don't you dare…" Isaacs hissed. "Don't you dare speak to me about private matters. I'm his next of kin and all that he had is legally mine. I don't care who you are—you can't have it."
"Bollocks to that. I imagine he'll want it back."
Isaacs balked. "You're mad. I buried that boy four years ago."
"And you're so broken up about it that you stuck him into a file and forgot about him," Emery said, unaffected.
"He was best forgotten."
Emery pulled his gun again and took a step closer. "What sort of parent can manage an ugly thought like that?"
"A responsible one," Isaacs spat. "Kurt was always troubled. Ungrateful. I did everything in my power to set him on the right course and he repaid me in defiance. He was a criminal. A thief. A sexual deviant. I was neither surprised nor sorry when he got himself killed. He lived a miserable life by choice. I was relieved when it was over."
Emery shook his head. "He was miserable because no one loved him. You took him from his home and fed him nothing but cruelty throughout h
is formative years and then you blame him for being troubled?"
Isaacs grunted. "I took him out of charity. His mother was no use and his grandparents decrepit. I did him a great service bringing him up English."
"Caring for your own son was charity, was it?" Emery asked in disgust. "My god, how did he make it with a father like you?"
"He didn't," Isaacs pointed out. "And I accept no fault in the matter."
Emery wanted to strike the man. Just one good hard blow since Kurt wasn't able, because it was what he deserved. He couldn't stand hearing about how someone could discard the man who was too important to Emery to live without. A man who was brave, resilient, capable and smart and noble. But it wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't teach him any sort of lesson and it certainly wouldn't ease Kurt's pain.
"The file," Victor said, trying to snap Emery out of it.
Emery turned, giving Isaacs another disgruntled look before digging back into the drawer. Garner. He yanked it out and shoved the drawer shut. "Yes, I've got it."
"Great. Let's go."
Emery didn't bother to look back as he followed Victor out the door, but he could feel an intense stare lingering on his back as he did so.
* * *
Emery had been on a few stress-induced benders in his time, but a lager never tasted so bloody good as he sat at Georgie's dining table and downed an entire bottle in one go. Victor watched him with interest before cracking open his own and reaching his hand down into the box of pizza Georgie had gotten them before she left to meet with her scouts and relay a description of Kurt so that they might begin their search. Emery felt completely unraveled. He opened his second beer and glanced over as Victor sat next to him. "Slow down, man."
"I'm fine," Emery said, but his voice cracked as he did so and he felt stupid.
"You've been through some crazy shit in the past few days. You need to relax."
"Relax," Emery sighed, leaning his head on a hand and fisting his hair. "Kurt's only ever mentioned his father in passing. That he was cold. That they didn't get along. I figured not, what with the crime or his being gay or something, but the man is positively horrid."