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The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset

Page 31

by Ethan Cross


  He needed to maintain discretion. He had to be cautious. He had to be selective. He couldn’t leave a trail for Marcus to follow. That would ruin all his plans.

  He watched the reflections of the city shimmer across the water for a few moments, and then a man with glasses and spiked hair joined him at the railing.

  “Do you have the information?” Ackerman said.

  The man’s voice trembled. “Yes.”

  “Everything I requested?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will they know that the files were accessed?”

  “I covered my tracks. They won’t be able to trace anything back or even know that I was there. What is this Shepherd Organization anyway?”

  “I don’t really know. That’s why I need the files. That’s why I needed you to track them down.”

  “Because they’re after you, aren’t they?”

  Ackerman chuckled. “Maybe, but I prefer the role of hunter, not hunted. I overheard a couple of old friends mention the Shepherd Organization and that they were in the process of recruiting someone very close to my heart. I was bleeding and strapped to a chair at the time. I didn’t enjoy the experience. Reminded me too much of my childhood. I don’t intend to find myself in that situation again, so I need to know my enemy.”

  “Well, their security’s right up there with the Pentagon’s. I’d say they’re some pretty serious government hombres. If I were you, I’d head for the hills.”

  “Your concern for my well-being is touching, but I don’t plan on getting caught. That’s why I recruited the best hacker I could find.”

  “Recruited?!” The man’s voice cracked. “You—”

  “Where are the files?”

  The man fumbled in his jacket and held out a portable hard drive.

  Ackerman took the drive and admired it. The wonderful device contained all the knowledge he required. He unconsciously reached behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his knife. The act would complete such a glorious moment, but he had to resist the urge to kill his little hacker friend. He still needed the man, and he was better than that now. He was more than just a killer.

  Before he had met Marcus, killing had been his only reason to live, his only purpose in life. Now, he had found his true calling, and his mission eclipsed his dark desires.

  “You’ll need a password to open the files, and I’m not going to give you that until you release my sister. When she’s safe, I’ll e-mail you the password.”

  His gaze burned through the whiny, little man. “Are you dictating the terms of the game to me?”

  “I read the files on you. I know how you work. You had no intention of holding up your end of the deal. If I give you that password, my sister and I are both dead.”

  “You should keep in mind that there are worse things than death, my friend. If you’ve read the files, then you know that I could make you give me that password. But, well played. Besides, there’s more to me than just a series of reports and tapes. I’ll let you and your sister live as long as you keep your mouth shut about the job you’ve done for me. I’ll release her this evening, but I expect to receive a prompt reply. Also, I’ll be calling on you from time to time. If you run, I will find you. From now on, I won’t bother your sister. As long as you do a good job, you won’t have anything to fear from me. Is that acceptable to you?”

  The man nodded like a bobblehead doll on a bumpy road.

  “Do you have the phone number I requested?”

  The man fumbled in his jacket again and removed a small piece of paper.

  He snatched the paper from the hacker’s hand and verified that he could read the man’s chicken scratches. He waved his hand. “You’re dismissed.”

  “What about—”

  “Go. Before I change my mind.”

  The man scurried away.

  Ackerman removed the cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number from the small sheet of paper.

  “Hello?” the voice on the end of the line said.

  His heart raced. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sound of that voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “Hello, Marcus. Have you missed me?”

  Silence.

  “I wish that I could have seen your face when they told you that they couldn’t find my remains among the ashes. In the future, you’ll need to realize that I always have a backup plan. The service tunnel that connected the new building to the old section of the hospital allowed my disappearing act to seem quite convincing, didn’t it?”

  “I’m going to find you.”

  “I love a challenge.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “I have my ways, but that’s not important. I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you’re busy with the new job and all, but I just wanted to say hello. Let you know that I miss you and that I’m thinking of you. I’m so happy for both of us. We’ve realized our destinies. Most people search their whole lives and never know what we know. We know the meaning of our existence. You have become the hero that you were always meant to be. But during our last confrontation, I realized that you still need me. You haven’t reached your full potential just yet. You will need to be tested and tried. And that’s where I come in. I’ve got such big plans for us. After all, every hero needs a villain.”

  He closed the phone, pulled the battery, and tossed both halves of the device into the water. Then, the corners of Francis Ackerman’s mouth slowly turned up into a wide grin.

  Let the games begin.

  I AM FEAR

  Ethan Cross

  An Aries book

  www.headofzeus.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Day One – December 15 Evening

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Day Two – December 16 Morning

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Day Two – December 16 Afternoon

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Day Two – December 16 Evening

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Day Three – December 17 Morning

  Chapter 11

  Day Three – December 17 Evening

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Day Four – December 18 Morning

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Day Four – December 18 Afternoon

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Day Four – December 18 Evening

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Day Five – December 19 Morning

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Day Five – December 19 Afternoon

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Day Five – December 19 Evening

  Chapter 65r />
  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Day Six – December 20 Morning

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Day Six – December 20 Afternoon

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Day Six – December 20 Evening

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Day Seven – December 21 Morning

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Day Seven – December 21 Afternoon

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Day Seven – December 21 Evening

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Day Eight – December 22 Morning

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Day Eight – December 22 Afternoon

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  1

  Francis Ackerman Jr. stared out the window of the dark copper and white bungalow on Macarthur Boulevard. Across the street, a green sign with yellow letters read Mosswood Playground – Oakland Recreation Department. Children laughed and played while mothers and fathers pushed swings and sat on benches reading paperback novels or fiddling with cell phones. He had never experienced such things as a child. The only games his father had ever played were the kind that scarred the body and soul. The young Ackerman had never been nurtured; he had never been loved. But he had come to accept that. He had found purpose and meaning born from the pain and chaos that had consumed his life.

  He watched the sun reflect off all the smiling faces and imagined how different the scene would be if the sun suddenly burned out and fell from the heavens. The cleansing cold of an everlasting winter would sweep across the land, sterilizing it, purifying it. He pictured the faces forever etched in torment, their screams silent, and their eyes like crystal balls reflecting what lay beyond death.

  He let out a long sigh. It would be beautiful. He wondered if normal people ever thought of such things. He wondered if they ever found beauty in death.

  Ackerman turned back to the three people bound to chairs in the room behind him. The first two were men—plain-clothes cops that had been watching the house. The older officer had a pencil-thin mustache and thinning brown hair while his younger counterpart’s head was topped with a greasy mop of dark black. The younger man’s bushy eyebrows matched his hair, and a hooked nose sat above thin pink lips and a recessed chin. The first man struck Ackerman to be like any other cop he had met, honest and hard-working. But there was something about the younger man that he didn’t like, something in his eyes. He suppressed the urge to smack the condescending little snarl from the younger cop’s ferret-like face.

  But, instead of hitting him, Ackerman just smiled at the cop. He needed a demonstration to get the information he wanted, and the ferret would be perfect. His eyes held the ferret’s gaze a moment longer, and then he winked and turned to the last of his three captives.

  Rosemary Phillips wore a faded Oakland Raiders sweatshirt. She had salt-and-pepper hair, and ancient pockmarks marred her smooth dark-chocolate complexion. Her eyes burned with a self-assurance and inner strength that Ackerman respected.

  Unfortunately, he needed to find her grandson, and if necessary, he would kill all three of them to accomplish his goal.

  He reached up to her mouth and pulled down the gag. She didn’t scream. “Hello, Rosemary. I apologize that I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier when I tied you up, but my name is Francis Ackerman Jr. Have you ever heard of me?”

  Rosemary met his gaze. “I’ve seen you on television. You’re the serial killer whose father experimented on him as a child, trying to prove that he could create a monster. I guess he succeeded. But I’m not afraid of you.”

  Ackerman smiled. “That’s wonderful. It means that I can skip the introductions and get straight to the point. Do you know why I asked these two gentlemen to join us?”

  Rosemary’s head swiveled toward the two officers. Her gaze lingered on the ferret. Ackerman saw disgust in her eyes. Apparently, she didn’t like him either. That would make things even more interesting once he started to torture the young cop.

  “I’ve seen these two around,” she said. “I’ve already told the cops that my grandson ain’t no damn fool. He wouldn’t just show up here, and I haven’t heard from him since this mess started. But they wouldn’t listen. Apparently they think it’s a good idea to stake out an old lady’s house instead of being out there on the streets doing what the people of this city pay them to do. Typical government at work.”

  Ackerman smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve never had much respect for authority. But, you see, I’m looking for your grandson as well. I, however, don’t have the time or patience to sit around here on the off chance that he might show up. I prefer the direct approach, and so I’m going to ask you to level with me. Where can I find your grandson?”

  “Like I told them, I have no idea.”

  He walked over to a tall mahogany hutch resting against the wall. It was old and well built. Family pictures lined its surface and shelves. He picked up a picture of a smiling young black man with his arm around Rosemary. A blue and gold birthday cake sat in front of them. “Rosemary, I’ve done my homework, and I’ve learned that your grandson thinks the world of you. You were his anchor in the storm. Maybe the one good thing in his life. The one person who loved him. You know where he’s hiding, and you are going to share that information with me. One way or another.”

  “Why do you even care? What’s he to you?”

  “He’s nothing to me. I could care less about your grandson. But someone that I do care about is looking for him, and I try to be useful where I can. And, like you said, sometimes bureaucracy and red tape are just too damn slow. We’re going to speed along the process.”

  Rosemary shook her head and tugged on the ropes. “I don’t know where he is, and if I did, I’d never tell a monster like you.”

  His father’s words tumbled through his mind.

  You’re a monster … Kill her and the pain will stop … No one will ever love you …

  “Oh, my dear, words hurt. But you’re right. I am a monster.”

  Ackerman grabbed a duffle bag from the floor and tossed it onto a small end table. As he unzipped the bag and rifled through the contents, he said, “Are you familiar with the Spanish Inquisition? I’ve been reading a lot about it lately. It’s a fascin-ating period of history. The Inquisition was basically a tribunal established by the
Catholic monarchs Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile in order to maintain Catholic orthodoxy within their kingdoms, especially among the new converts from Judaism and Islam. But that’s not what fascinates me. What fascinates me are the unspeakable acts of barbarism and torture that were carried out in the name of God upon those deemed to be heretics. We think that we live in a brutal age, but our memories are very short-sighted. Any true student of history can tell you that this is the age of enligthenment compared with other periods throughout time. The things the Inquisitors did to wrench confessions from their victims were nothing less than extraordinary. Those Inquisitors displayed fabulous imagination.”

  Ackerman brought a strange device up out of the duffle bag. “This is an antique. Its previous owner claimed that it’s an exact replica of one used during the Inquisition. You’ve got to love eBay.”

  He held up the device—made from two large, spiked blocks of wood connected by two threaded metal rods an inch in diameter each—for their inspection. “This was referred to as the Knee Splitter. Although it was used on more than just knees. When the Inquisitor turned these screws, the two blocks would push closer together and the spikes would first pierce the flesh of the victim. Then the Inquisitor would continue to twist the screws tighter and tighter until they received the answers they wanted or until the affected appendage was rendered useless.”

  Rosemary spat at him. As she spoke, her words were strong and confident. He detected a slight hint of a Georgia accent and suspected that it was from her youth and only presented itself when she was especially flustered. “You’re going to kill us anyway. No matter what I do. I can’t save these men anymore than I can save myself. The only thing that I can control is the way that I go out. And I won’t grovel and beg to the likes of you. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

  Ackerman nodded. “I respect that. So many people blame the world or society or others for the way that they are. But we’re all victims of circumstance to a certain extent. We like to think that we’re in control of our own destinies, but the truth is that much of our lives is dictated by forces far beyond our control and comprehension. We all have our strings pulled by someone or something. It’s unavoidable. The only place that we have any real control is right here.” He tapped the tip of his fifteen-inch survival knife against his right temple. “Within our minds. Most people don’t understand that, but you do. I didn’t come here to kill you, Rosemary. It will give me no pleasure to remove you from the world. But my strings get pulled just like everyone else’s. In this case, circumstances dictate that I hurt you and these men in order to achieve my goal. I’m good at what I do, my dear. I’ve been schooled in pain and suffering my entire life. Time will only allow me to share a small portion of my expertise with you, but I can tell you that it will be enough. You will tell me. That’s beyond your control. The only aspect of this situation that you can influence is the duration of the suffering you must endure. So I’ll ask again: where is your grandson?”

 

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