The Divine Devils: Mystery Suspense Crime Thriller: Book 1

by R Weir

  “I got a tip about the witness being in danger,” she explained, standing inside the College Administration Building to stay dry. “I flew out here to assess the threat, as I wasn’t completely certain it was credible. When I arrived the woman, who provided the tip, was in danger protecting Adin Dillenberg, now known as Steven Zorn, from the three parties who planned on taking him to Canada.”

  “Why take him to Canada?” her boss grumbled.

  “Because Conn Ives Reinbach, the man Adin was supposed to testify against and presumed dead, is alive and well. He wanted Adin to exact his revenge.”

  There was a long pause. “Did you say Conn Ives Reinbach was still alive?”

  “Yes sir.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you report this immediately?”

  “Because there was no time.” Latoya spoke the words firmly, even though they weren’t accurate.

  “And this woman whom you have in custody knows where Reinbach is?”

  “Yes. She was intimately involved with the operation to acquire Adin by kidnapping two innocent U.S. citizens.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Olivia Hawkins,” replied Latoya, hesitating before speaking the second name. “Hunter Divine was the other.”

  The pause this time was even longer. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Do you mean that Hunter Divine, who was your partner long ago and whom I fired, is involved in this mess?”

  Latoya wanted to point out Hunter hadn’t been fired, but was forced to quit, but figured now wasn’t the time.

  “Yes sir,” she replied, getting prepared for the onslaught.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not giving me all the details. I’m getting on a plane right away and we’ll have a long talk…is that clear.”

  “Yes sir.” She stuck her tongue out at him, since he couldn’t see her. She rarely enjoyed interacting with the man.

  “In the meantime, control the scene and make sure your tipster is around to give her statement to me. And hers better match yours, or else…”

  Latoya was about to speak, her own anger about to be known, when Athena walked over to her, followed by a Salt Lake City police officer.

  “Valerie has escaped,” stated Athena out of breath, the news hard to understand.

  Latoya mumbled a curse, her teeth gritted in anger. “How?”

  “The female officer who was escorting her to a patrol car,” noted the male police officer, “got too close and it seems the prisoner cold cocked her with her forehead. Then she got out of the cuffs and escaped the scene.”

  “Did she get the officers weapon?” asked Latoya, her head shaking in disbelief.

  The officer nodded. “And her radio.”

  Latoya heard yelling on the phone microphone. “Hold on sir. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “Did I just hear the prisoner escaped?” The tone coming through clearly across the digital signal was livid.

  “Even worse,” replied Athena. “She likely has a jet waiting for her. She can fly back to Canada to warn Reinbach.”

  “How long has she been free?”

  “We just found the officer about ten minutes ago,” answered the male officer. “We believe she’s been free for about thirty minutes.”

  “Enough time to likely be in the air by now,” added Latoya.

  “How can we find Reinbach now?” inquired Latoya’s boss.

  Athena brought up her phone and showed Latoya the text message from Cameryn, which she’d seen about fifteen minutes ago. The two team members going back and forth, discussing the plan.

  “He’s in Moose Jaw Saskatchewan, holding Olivia and Hunter captive,” stated Athena. “We have a team heading there now to free them. And I plan on joining them.”

  “No you don’t,” ordered Latoya’s boss on the speaker. “You need to stay there so I can question you. I’m getting on a plane and should be there in two hours.”

  Athena grabbed the phone from Latoya and hung up, perturbed at the career politician. “I don’t have time for this. He and I can chat later, if I’m alive.”

  Athena started walking away, Latoya calling out after her.

  “I’m coming to,” she said, walking beside her. “Like you said, it’s my feather in the cap to bring in this SOB.”

  “Could be the end of your career too,” declared Athena.

  “Be worth it to see you kick Valerie’s ass,” noted Latoya, a knuckle bump shared between them.

  The two women ran off to the rental car, wishing to find a charter to get them across the border, in time to join up with the rest of the team. Athena hoping the credit limit on her card would be sufficient to cover the pending cost.

  Chapter 64

  A new painting was started, working off the energy of the room, the confrontations providing inspiration. The mad artist now alone with his thoughts. Brushstroke worked feverishly, before unconventional ingenuity passed from his brain. Blotting, long strokes, short strokes, even flinging the wet brush at the canvas. Whatever it took for the tinted paint to come to life. The brilliant creation coming along beautifully when Norvin knocked on the door and stuck his head in.

  “Sir, there has been a situation with Mister Sellers,” he stated, waiting for the wrath of his boss to bellow his way.

  Brushstroke laid down his brush and palette, his anger evident. “You know how I feel about being disturbed when I’m creating.” His genius dissipated as quickly as it came, and he knew it was challenging to recapture it.

  “I’m sorry sir. I wouldn’t interrupt if it weren’t critical.” Norvin opened the door further. “Mister Sellers appears to have attacked his daughter and had to be subdued.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” He was extremely angry now, knowing he’d never regain his creative thoughts. “Have him brought here immediately.”

  Norvin nodded and within ten minutes Sellers was standing before the ticked off man, hunched over in pain, his face bruised and bloody. The two guards who subdued him holding him up, expounding in detail what happened.

  “I don’t understand Isiah,” remarked Brushstroke, confused at the explanation, walking closer to read the man’s expression.

  “They’re wrong,” replied Sellers, his breathing labored, his pain visible. “I wasn’t…trying to hurt…her. I wanted to…hug her. Tell her…I’m sorry…one more time.”

  Brushstroke put his hand under Sellers chin, attempting to read his eyes. “Are you telling the truth?”

  Sellers paused before answering, struggling to catch his wind. “Of course…I am. What else…would I be doing?”

  “You hesitated, leading me to believe otherwise.” Brushstroke lightly slapped his cheek three times.

  Sellers grimaced. “I’m in pain…thanks to your thugs…and Hunter. I can hardly breath. Makes it hard…for me to talk. My ribs…might be broken.”

  Brushstroke glared further into the man’s eyes, reading him. It could have been pain and possibly fear. But he wondered if it was deception.

  “We have ways to make you speak the truth,” proclaimed Brushstroke with an eerie expression. “Which will bring about more pain than you currently are experiencing. It’s best to fess up and tell me what you were really trying to do. Otherwise, we hook up leads to various parts of your body, turn up the voltage and enjoy the smell of burning flesh.” His vile grin cruel to witness.

  Seller’s took a deep breath, pushing back the pain, ready to stand up to the man.

  “Was that what you had planned for Olivia?” he said, taking in a gasp of air after blurting out the words.

  “Certainly not.” Brushstrokes tone was hardly convincing.

  “Hunter told me otherwise.” Sellers hoped for adrenaline to push him on. “Your plan is to hurt her…if they don’t bring you this man you’ve been anxious to deal with.”

  Brushstroke turned around, walking to his window to gaze out at the rolling fields that were beginning to turn green. He did so enjoy the peacefulness here in Canada
. Especially when it was balanced out with the horror of torturing people.

  “What if I did hurt your lovely daughter,” he stated with an eerie calmness. “What would it matter to you? She obviously wants nothing to do with you.”

  Sellers straightened, the two men releasing him, before walking over to a chair to sit. His pain was still ebbing through his body, his heartrate beating to fuel him past the agony. A good stiff drink might have helped, but he knew no relief would be forthcoming.

  “We had a deal,” Sellers declared showing backbone. “I help you get Hunter…and I get Olivia to take with me—unharmed.”

  Brushstroke continued to gaze out the window. “Only if they bring me Adin. Which hasn’t happened.”

  Sellers tone turned forceful. “Which was never part of our deal!”

  Brushstroke shrugged, not caring.

  “And if they don’t bring him?” inquired Sellers.

  “Then your little girl suffers, while Hunter watches.” He turned back, to see Sellers. “Hell, you can watch if you’d like. My men will have a joyous time with her. It will be glorious to behold. Worthy of a Brushstroke masterpiece.”

  Seller’s pointed at the man in anger. “You’re despicable if you let them hurt her. I can’t allow you to do this. She’s done nothing to deserve this type of treatment.”

  Brushstroke stepped forward, his voice rising. “Did my sister deserve the type of treatment she got from her husband.” His finger was pointing back and his hand was shaking. “Adin said he’d take care of her in sickness and health. Then he walked away from her, going to the Feds to rat me out.” He grabbed the painting he’d been working on and smashed it on top of the easel, ripping a huge hole in the canvas. “When he abandoned her, she was devastated. Leaving her so broken emotionally that she ignored her health issues, until it was too late. The cancer killed her a few months later.” His voice now was shouting. “I will not stop until he goes through the same torture she endured before dying.”

  Brushstroke tossed the ripped painting into the wall, then grabbed another, smashing it as well. He was out of control, destroying his work. Each of these creations the only remaining items on earth that kept him calm. Nine paintings later he stopped, seeing the carnage before him. After a couple of deep breaths he dropped the painting in his hands and walked over to Sellers, grabbing his face and squeezing.

  “You won’t have to worry about seeing what will happen to your daughter,” he said, his face red with rage, but his voice—calm. “You’ll experience it yourself, until you tell me what the hell you were doing today.” He released his face, slapping it softly several times, waving at the men who brought him in with his other hand. “Take him to the chamber and tell Galvanic to give Sellers the full treatment.”

  The two men grabbed Sellers, who tried to fight them with no success. He screamed and cursed, but it didn’t matter, as he wasn’t strong enough, the agony in his body overwhelming. Dragged away to a fate no human should ever face.

  ***

  Two hours had passed, Hunter having Olivia retrieve the iPhone from her hiding place in the bathroom. Powering it on they checked messages. The first ding said: “They had left Denver and were on their way. Did they have any idea where in Moose Jaw they were being held?”

  “Tell them we don’t but believe it’s well outside of town in farmland,” stated Hunter, the water again running in the bathroom to cover their voices. “We also see some mountain peaks east and north of us.”

  Olivia typed out the message in a blink of an eye. It would have taken Hunter five minutes, with lots of misspellings.

  Another ding: “Thanks that is helpful. What is your status?”

  “Tell them we are locked up in a secondary building about three hundred yards west of the main house. There are two other structures on the property. One a barn, the other smaller.”

  After the message was sent the response was: “Are you prepared to put up a fight?”

  Hunter wanted to reply, fuck yes, but toned it down to hell yes.

  A couple more messages and they agreed to check back in another two hours. Olivia powered down the phone, tucking back into an open space behind a loose tile at the base of the bathtub. Hunter turned off the water, flushed the toilet and they both returned to the room, Hunter putting on a little bit of a show.

  “Damn, I still don’t feel good,” he said loudly, followed by a big moan. “Damn unfiltered water.”

  He laid down on the bed, his body turned away from the camera. He began working on the side of the bedframe, trying to remove screws holding a metal support. It was short with a jagged edge that could be used as a weapon to stab with. Much like a couple of other items they had accumulated. He would use the play acting of being sick to their advantage in case they came looking for the phone. But either way they were ready to go when the time came to act. Hunter laying it all out to Olivia on what to do, not to hesitate, his pep talk meant to psych her up. She agreed with it all, his words motivating her, giving her the will to survive, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 65

  The jet landed at Moose Jaw Municipal Airport, taxiing to a special hanger, a pair of security officers driving a cart leading the way. Amari, using his extensive contacts, had arranged their arrival as a straight line to get around customs. The flight and all the passengers cleared as special American diplomats, with two large Ford SUV’s waiting in the hanger for the strike team of five men. Loading equipment to fight with and to assist in navigating for the night mission, as darkness had cast itself on the region.

  “Remain here with Lance,” instructed Cameryn to Paige and Jose. “You’ll be safe so long as you wait with the jet.”

  “Do what you need to bring them back alive,” commented Paige, as they loaded up.

  Cameryn looked her and Jose straight in the eye with confidence. “I promise. Whatever it takes.”

  Shen and Cameryn took one of the SUV’s, while the three team members lead by Black Fox, drove the other one. They weren’t quite certain of the exact location where Hunter and Olivia were being held. But they would find the cell tower the iPhone had latched onto and work out from there. With the info Hunter had provided they anticipated heading east, using digital maps to guide them in the unfamiliar territory.

  Using the same two-way communicators as they did on the Train Man mission, Cameryn drove, leading the way, Shen giving directions while watching his cellular tablet, a split screen showing the location via Deion’s Find My iPhone account. A few cars were on the road on this Friday evening, but navigating wasn’t an issue. It took about twenty minutes to get to the cell tower, where the two vehicles stopped. Shen got out, using a pair of night vision binoculars to scan the area, hoping to spot a clue. He could see the dark outline of mountains in the distance. All they could do was head towards it, keeping to the main roads in hopes of spotting structures that closely matched what Hunter had told them. If they had to go house to house, they would.

  “We may need to split up to cover more territory,” remarked Shen. “Could take us hours to find where they’re being held.”

  “Let’s see if Hunter can give us more to work with.”

  Shen typed out a message on the tablet, waiting for a response. About five minutes later, a message came through. “We’ll do what we can. But they might be on to us. Shutting down!”

  With the message the signal dropped off the screen. The team knew time might be short. The SUV’s split up, each heading down different roads, to try and cover more ground.

  ***

  Brushstroke was watching the screen, seeing the torture they were putting Sellers through. Up until this point he hadn’t said much, only screaming in pain, while insisting he did nothing wrong. It was a horrible scene, but Brushstroke admired the work, absorbing it all while painting his warped vision of it.

  There came a knock on his studio door, like earlier, his anger growing again at the interruption. It was Valerie, a hurried expression on her face. Their jet getting her back
quickly, flying at maximum speed, her escape complete. She had not time to waste with no phone to warn him, it being taken by the Salt Lake City police. Besides she didn’t remember the number to call, having to wait to report in on arrival. But she was back, with bad news, never a good thing to share with the artistic, violent man.

  “My men are dead,” were her first words. She paused before continuing, her nerves on edge, which was a rarity for her. “I wasn’t able to secure Adin but was able to escape.”

  Brushstroke continued to paint. “Give me the details.”

  Valerie gave him the story, the plan clearly a good one, until it was ruined by the arrival of the woman providing Athena backup. She knew there’d be backlash for her failure. But she returned, to face the music, giving him the news, which was most important.

  “It would appear Athena has no plans to force Adin to come,” concluded Valerie. “She was hoping to convince him to help.”

  “The little man would never agree,” remarked Brushstroke dismissively. “He is too much of a coward.”

  “You’re right. I could see and smell his fear. Undisputedly the right call to grab him myself.” She was making her case that her plan was the proper path to take, even if it didn’t work.

  “And yet you failed to bring him to me.” Brushstroke looked around his painting at her, brush still in hand. “Disappointing you had him within your grasp. Are they on to our location?”

  Valerie shook her head. “I doubt it. They didn’t learn it from me.”

  “Were you followed?”

  “No, I had a clean escape,” she replied with confidence. If she’d been tracked, she didn’t know what method could have been used.

  “It would appear I need to escalate my timetable. If they aren’t bringing me Adin, then I must proceed with taking care of the prisoners and then consider moving on.”