Into the Shadows Page 19

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

  The telegraph machine started chattering and rolling out a ticker tape. Viggo went over and began reading it; a deep scowl formed on his face, deepening the cracks in his pale skin. Okay, bad news.

  He turned to me and said, "Unfortunately, it is time for you to depart, Leo. I would suggest that you returned from where we arrived, in the alcove under the manhole cover, and then climb out and make your own way home. However, that would not be a safe option for you at this time."

  "Not safe? Why?"

  Something suddenly hit the iron door we came in through, hit it hard enough that rock dust lifted and settled around its stone frame while the echo of impact bounced around the cave. I sprang to my feet with my Glock in my hand. "What the fuck!" I blurted.

  "That is why," Viggo calmly answered. He stepped next to me with his arm around my shoulders. "I'll return you to your property, and then deal with this nuisance."

  "But, I could help . . ."

  Viggo shook his head. "This is my burden, my chore. Fear not, Leo, I am in no danger, but you would be if you stayed. Let us go."

  For the first time, I didn't mind void-walking if it got me the hell out of there.

  INTERVENTION

  Once Viggo and I returned to my patio - and I was able to gather my wits - I asked him to wait a second for one other quick topic. "I, uh, know that most elders who've been around a long time eventually want to take a long break from it all. From what I've been told, sir, you're long overdue. And I know why. I don't want you to go away, but that oath you made to watch over my line has kept you from doing just that. If I'm the last one holding you here, then I - I don't . . . Shit, I feel like a fucking burden! If it's up to me, then I release you from that oath. You can stop. I won't have kids. I'll get a vasectomy. I'll -"

  "Leo," Viggo said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "I appreciate the sentiment, but the oath is not yours to negate. My freedom is not in your hands, although it is tied to you. A time will come when I will finally take respite, and I will be content knowing that I have earned it. Worry yourself with your own matters. We will talk again soon."

  Five seconds later, he was gone. I went in my house, remembering what Viggo said about it possibly being bugged. Great, I got to add paranoid to nervous and guilty.

  The only thing that allowed me a decent night's sleep was a lot of booze. I woke up with a wicked hangover, but hey, fuck it - it was worth six hours of dreamless rest.

  With a little time to myself before I had to deal with an order that I didn't want to think about, I decided to get rid of a worry. I called Gwen; we chatted for a while, and then I requested a short-notice contract for someone competent to come give my house an immediate security sweep. She told me that Cordell had put himself back on Silas' roster the day before, and that he'd be over before noon. I got a discount on the fee, but I planned on giving my friend Cord a big tip no matter what.

  Lucky for me, Viggo's suspicions were incorrect. Well, mostly. Cordell, thorough as ever, found a GPS tracker in the undercarriage of my car. Depending on how long it'd been there, some sneaky little shit knew about my visits with Ragna. That was no big deal - it was to be expected. They also might've known about the outings to or near the Galloway house. I pretty much spelled it out to Edward that I was the dog-woman's minion, so no sweat there either. But all of my regular stops - including Keegan's and the Aoki Dojo - were possibly known, putting some of my friends in potential danger.

  I thanked Cordell, sent him off with the promise of keeping in touch, and put the tracker in my glove box. I'd decide later what to do with it. As for the other things sitting heavy in my head . . . There was nothing I could do about releasing Viggo from his oath, and I could only have faith that he'd somehow block my very reluctant attempt to give Ed Galloway a painful death.

  After a quick workout, I cleaned up and gathered a few items to bring along just in case there was nothing stopping me from setting a fire. When I opened my front door to leave, I saw that greyhound mix, Auga, sitting on my porch. Fuck. Since it was early afternoon, I sure as hell didn't expect Ragna to have one of her spies active and waiting on me. I loaded the supplies and opened the passenger door for the damn dog to get in. Despite Viggo's assurance that he'd intervene, I was still full of dread.

  That dread turned into a tickle of joy when I saw two trucks in front of Galloway's house, and a bunch of landscapers all over his lawn. They were busy trimming trees, building flowerbeds, all that sort of shit. If Ragna was somehow awake and looking through the dog's eyes again, she would've seen that there was nothing I could do. It also meant that I had to hide my grin, just in case. I drove by slowly, noticing a sign planted in the front yard that said, 'Congratulations - Free Spring Service!' next to a realtor's sale sign. I also saw Chuck and Trish standing on the porch, sharing a 'what the fuck' expression.

  I dropped the dog off near the Wise Owl Wok, and then decided to have a late lunch there before returning home. Once back at my place, I expected to hear from Ragna as soon as the sun set, either by another delivery or visiting dog with a note tied to its collar. Until then, I had a chance to mellow out. I was on my front porch when my neighbor Hector got home from work. I invited him over for a social drink; we sat and chatted until his wife Anna called him for dinner. Since Ragna's request would've been showing up soon, I decided to stay on the porch and wait for it.

  Night came and settled in, and there was still no messenger from the dog-woman. The air was getting cold, so I decided to go back inside. As I sat down and reached for the remote, I got a call from Viggo. "Your current administrator will not need you this evening," he said with a gruff tone.

  "Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?" The last thing I wanted was for my commander to be pissed at me for . . . well, anything.

  "You've done as you should." That simple statement relieved me. "I have made it clear that you will never be charged with that type of task again." I got the feeling that Viggo was staring at Ragna while he talked to me. I heard a dog bark in the background, and I was sure of it. "You still have an appointment to keep, but your time is your own until then." He hung up before I could say thanks. No big deal.

  With some of my worries gone and a little time to myself, I decided to go out. The rest of my evening turned out to be pretty damn good. Keegan's was fairly busy that night; I had some drinks, some laughs, and helped close the place up. Things got better when Tanya came home with me. We went out for brunch the next day, and it didn't feel awkward at all - friends with benefits, pure and simple.

  While I still had some extra money in my pocket, I bought a new leather jacket. I got the style that came down to about mid-thigh so there'd be room for alterations, mainly straps sewed into the interior that would hold my two new Berettas with silencers. I wasn't sure what was going to happen at the meeting with Jack Fletcher that night, but the fiasco with Declan McKenna's minions proved that anything was possible. I figured I'd just load for bear and expect trouble.

  As it turned out, there was indeed some trouble. I just wouldn't have guessed that I'd be the cause of it.

  PARK

  I pulled up in front of the Chinese restaurant a few minutes early that night, so I got out and leaned against the passenger door until Ragna decided to show up. While I waited, I noticed that I'd parked behind the restaurant's delivery car. On a whim, I fished the little magnetic tracker bug out of my glove box and stuck it to the underside of that car's bumper. No offense to the little delivery guy, but better him than me. If that somehow made trouble for Ragna, well then . . . I didn't give a shit.

  The hunched dog-woman came around the corner, and I could almost see the waves of resentment rolling off her. She was still pissed that not only had her plan for Edward Galloway been blocked, but then Viggo chewed her ass for the attempt. I felt smug but didn't let it show, and kept my mind on other things. The crazy old broad stepped over the line; I wasn't going to feel sorry for her.

/>   Ragna stared at me until I opened the car door for her. I obviously knew where the zoo was, but not exactly where Fletcher wanted us to meet him. For the directions, Ragna simply threw a dirty map in my lap as I drove. She otherwise didn't say a single word to me on the way, which was fine by me.

  The map was only of the Kansas City Zoo; a service gate was circled with a marker. A guy in overalls and a zoo personnel shirt was waiting for us when we pulled up. By way of invitation, he opened a tall iron pedestrian gate for us. The guy waited at the gate after Ragna and I walked in. The zoo was dark but the moon was full, so there wasn't any problem seeing the surroundings or the wide asphalt path. There were a few big structures spread out ahead of us - animal housing, I guessed - but I didn't see anyone.

  We stood there in that open, quiet space, waiting. Ragna eventually turned her head to the right and kept her gaze fixed in that direction. I followed her eyes and looked at two supply sheds, separated by a copse of pine trees. After I stared for a few seconds, I could just make out a figure walking toward us.

  Ducking under a branch, Jack Fletcher stopped just before pavement met dirt and stood just within the moon's glow. He was dressed pretty much like the first time I saw him - untucked flannel shirt, faded jeans, and still wore shades. This time, though, he was barefoot. His feet were nearly as hairy as his forearms. I guessed his back must've looked like shag carpet.

  With as much spite in her voice as she could muster, Ragna told me to stay where I was. She made her way over to Fletcher, and they had a short conversation while exchanging envelopes. A minute later, she turned to me and hissed, "Get over here." When I did, she looked up at me and said, "For now, you are under the control of Mr. Fletcher. You will follow his commands as you would follow mine. He will give you further directions. I'll be in the car." With barely a nod at Fletcher, Ragna turned and shuffled off.

  I felt a little awkward, to say the least. I looked at the elder Outsider, who was near my height. With those dark shades on, I couldn't gauge his mood nearly as well as normal. "So, uh," I began clumsily when he continued to just stand there facing me. "What should I call you, sir?"

  "The title 'elder' will suffice," Fletcher answered with a deep voice. "After you take lady Ragna back to her domain, continue on to Green Valley Park. Use a map if you must. Use the north entry and stop at the first covered picnic area. We will speak more there."

  I took that as a dismissal, so I went back to my car. When I got in, Ragna tossed me a wad of money. "That's your share of the first week's wages. Nearly half of what I bartered you for - more than fair." She was attempting to make me feel like an animal on auction, and she did a damn good job of it. If I were working for Viggo - as I should've been - there would have been a sense of meaning and pride. But being ordered around and traded by random hemos had me feeling less than human. I'd keep taking hits to my dignity for my commander's sake, but I was starting to see all other hemos in a bad light.

  Ragna demanded, "Now take me home and then get out of my sight." Yes, a very bad light.

  Green Valley Park was a big spread - over two hundred hilly acres - and in a pretty rough neighborhood. As a kid I hardly went there with my friends, and never at night. Even then, it was known for hosting gang parties, drug deals and prostitution. I had no idea if the criminal activity had eased up since then.

  The first shelter was only a hundred yards up the paved lane from the park entrance. I pulled up near it and saw Fletcher's silhouette sitting at one of the benches. There were no other vehicles in sight, so I wondered how the hell he got there so fast. I got out of my Jeep, buttoned my coat to keep out a chilly breeze, and walked over to him. It was pitch black under the shelter roof where none of the moon's glow reached; I could only see the outlines of him and the sturdy picnic table.

  "Take a seat," Fletcher offered, low and quiet. I sat across from him and waited. From the time he took with his words and actions, Jack Fletcher seemed to be a patient, deliberate type. "I do not need you for my protection or for trivial errands, Mr. Beck. You are here for an altogether different purpose."

  "Yes sir - uh, elder, I'm listening. What would you like me to do?"

  "We shall begin with a simple task," he replied. "Further down the lane, at the bottom of the next hill, you will find a large car with occupants. They are trafficking drugs." That also meant they had guns. I wasn't too thrilled about where this was going, but then something changed my mind . . . or rather, had it changed for me.

  Fletcher removed his shades. His eyes were the color of orange lava, simmering and glowing. I studied them with fascination for a few seconds, and then realized that I couldn't look away. My focus became those radiant eyes, flecked with red around the edges of his irises. When the elder spoke, his words filled my mind. "Those parasites have helped to shape cities into meccas of fear and greed and pollution. Starting tonight, starting now, you will be my hand of reckoning. You will drive them off or lay them low. Do whatever is necessary. Return to me when it is done."

  DEALERS

  I felt compelled to follow Fletcher's order. There was validity in his words, but they weren't what swayed me to go deliver his vigilante version of justice. I simply was carrying out a command that I couldn't stop myself from doing. At least I was given some choice for how to handle the situation.

  I got up and started walking along the lane at a brisk pace, quickly reaching the top of the sloping hill. Ahead of me was a downhill grade, and then another, lower knoll. The lane slowly curved to the right, so I took to the grass for a straighter approach. Near the top of the next rise, I saw the parking lights of a car at the bottom of the slope. It was sitting lengthwise on the shoulder where the lane widened before it forked. There was a tree line to my right, but it sat too far back to be used for cover. The only objects between me and the car were a stunted evergreen bush and a mature tree. Not many options.

  'Drive them off or lay them low', Fletcher said. Not unlike Ragna, I guess he had his own pet peeves.

  The moonlight didn't give me much of a chance to employ stealth, especially to get anywhere near the pimped-out Lincoln fifty yards away. I got on my stomach and slithered a few yards downhill to see under the tree's bare branches. Through my scope, looking into the rear and passenger-side windows, I saw three people. I held still when another car's headlights came into view from the far fork. It pulled up slowly next to the Lincoln, their driver's doors almost touching. The transaction was enough distraction that no one noticed me crawling down to the tree twenty yards from them.

  I stayed flat until the other car drove off and well out of sight. It was then I made my decision of how to follow the command. Even though they were scumbag dealers, that wasn't an excuse to quietly pick them off. I unscrewed the silencers off the Berettas and stood up behind the tree. I told myself not to aim for the windows; I didn't want to accidentally plug one of them in the head. After a deep breath, I took a small step to the side, still maintaining at least partial cover, and opened fire with both guns.

  The guns were loud and multiple flashes lit up the night as bullets hit the Lincoln. After two chaotic seconds, one of the dealers held a gun out of a window and fired back wildly. The car screeched its tires and pulled away fast. I dropped the empty Berettas and continued firing with my Glock and little Luger as they roared down the near lane, soon out of range and sight. I put over forty rounds into the car; it was a fair bet one of the dealers got hit. I hoped Fletcher would think that was enough.

  I jogged back to the shelter where Fletcher still sat. "Quite the barrage, Mr. Beck - I heard it clearly. Were there any survivors?"

  "Yes, elder. I couldn't get close enough for any detailed work. They managed to drive away."

  He stepped out into the moonlight near me and nodded. "That will suffice for now. I agreed with your lady Ragna to give you Wednesdays and weekends to be at her disposal, as I assume you wish to be. Tomorrow night - Tuesday, I believe - we will meet again here an hour after sunset and discuss further plans. Bring
whatever weapons you have available." Fletcher looked off for a moment, and then back to me. "Even down in a valley, your activities may have caught the ear of nearby residents. You should move along soon. That is all for tonight."

  I took a few steps toward my car and then turned back to ask, "Elder . . . why me? One of your own minions, if you have them, could do this for you without pay."

  "To be plain," he replied, "my own minions don't carry firearms. They also don't have your training. Ragna gave me a copy of your dossier; your expertise in certain fields compliments my goals. And most importantly, Mr. Beck," he said with a widening grin, "you don't belong to me. If something were to go wrong, I'm not the one who must answer for it."

  "Is - is that fair to my lady Ragna, elder?" I didn't care if it was, but I had to keep up the pretense.

  Still grinning, he said, "No, not in the least, but she was the one who put your skills up for sale. The deal has been struck, so I suggest that you don't fuck up. Good night, Mr. Beck."

  PATROL

  I didn't sleep well that night and woke in a surly mood. My conscience wouldn't leave me alone.

  There were also some more short dreams about Viggo, but they weren't clear - not like those vivid ones that would preset my mood for the day. Since the battle dream and the burning lady nightmare, I'd only had one more of those vivid ones. I was him, and at the same time not him, know what I mean? I was hunting for something - someone - through sewers and shafts. There were also subway tunnels, so I wasn't in KC. I didn't feel angry or hungry while I hunted; strangely, it was more like a regretful duty. I finally found my prey - another hemo, and I was pretty sure he was another Deviant. Why was I hunting my own kind?

  Since I became Viggo's minion, he was a common fixture in my dreams. He'd make guest appearances in scenes that really had nothing to do with him. There was one about my team sneaking through some shitty Afghanistan terrain, and came upon him sitting in a lawn chair under a beach umbrella out in the barren, rocky waste. He sort of grinned and silently toasted us with his big margarita glass.