Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love (32 page)

Jarvis looked at Maddi as though she'd only
swatted a fly, not shot a man. "Not very bright, is he? Trying to
sneak up on me with that body odor? Please!" Maddi looked back at
her, unsure of how to respond. "Let me help with those," she said.
"You'll never get them off without bending what's left of your
knees."

"No, no, I'll get it, that's okay!" Maddi
stammered, but Jarvis was already moving. She grabbed the cuffs of
his pants and yanked them off with one brutal tug. He let loose a
short scream and began to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing
he remembered before the blackness claimed him was the sharp sting
of coagulant spray hitting his wounds.

Edgar jerked
awake, still at his desk, as the HC announced a package delivery.
He looked out the window, surprised to see it was already morning.
"Direct it to be left at the desk," he ordered the HC. As an
afterthought he added, "Full security scan." The HC chimed its
acknowledgement as Edgar went for some coffee.

There were no messages waiting when he
returned to his desk. He checked the time: Seven-forty. He rubbed
his hands over his face, wishing for the hundredth time that last
night was just a bad dream. After a swallow of coffee, he ordered
the HC to call Evans.

"Evans here, Mr. Aeternum," came the crisp
British voice. "How may I assist you?"

"Just checking for news, Evans," Edgar said,
knowing full well that Evans would've called had there been any.
Doing something was better than waiting, though.

"I'm afraid there's nothing new, sir," Evans
replied. "Though your article on the behaviors of psychopaths was
most enlightening, I must say. While my agents have located the
sites of Miss Campbell's previous tortures, it's not good news.
They all occurred at the victims' homes; my agents are watching Mr.
Bristow's residence and no one other than his roommates is
present."

"Damn," muttered Edgar. "I don't suppose she
might have returned to one of her previous victims' places?"

"No sir," answered Evans. "I've already
looked. The homes have new inhabitants and nothing untoward is
happening. I did have an idea based on your suggestion and your
article, sir. It may take a while because she was very good at
concealing her efforts while under the bank's employ; however,
there may be value in finding her extortion victims'
identities."

Edgar perked up at that, "Brilliant idea,
Evans! Maybe she's using one of them as a base?"

"Precisely my thought, sir," Evans replied.
"As I said, I'm already looking into it. At first, the bank was
less than cooperative. However, when I suggested that Miss
Jarvis-Campbell's doings might accidentally be leaked to the
public, they came around; rather quickly, if I do say so." There
was no hiding the satisfaction in Evans' voice.

"Good man," Edgar said. "Keep me posted. I
need to get some food. Plus, I have a package waiting for me
downstairs."

"A package, sir?" Evans' was all business
again. "Were you expecting a delivery?"

Edgar's blood ran cold at the tone in his
barrister's voice. "No, why?" he asked.

"Have it brought up at once," Evans said
firmly. "I'll hold."

"Not until you tell me what you're thinking,
Evans!" there was an edge of fear in Edgar's voice.

"It may be a coincidence, sir," the barrister
replied cautiously. "However, according to her record, Miss
Campbell has a habit of sending ransom notices accompanied by items
of a…" he paused, "somewhat extreme personal nature."

"Are you telling me that bitch hacked pieces
off of her victims to send with the ransom notes?" Edgar
practically yelled.

"I'm afraid so, sir," Evans said, "though it
could merely be coincidental."

"Evans, for a barrister, you're a bad liar.
Hold on!" Edgar put the call on hold and instructed the front desk
to deliver the package. They assured him it would be there in
minutes. He picked up Evans' call again as he waited. "I'm not sure
I want to know," he said, "but exactly what parts does she
send?"

Evans sighed, a sure sign he was feeling
sympathy for Edgar's situation. "There is no pattern, sir," he
finally said. "Sometimes a finger, other times an ear; she sent a
hand once," he trailed off, ending with another sigh. "And, in one
particularly gruesome case, she sent her victim's genitals." This
time, the barrister didn't bother with an attempt at comfort.

Edgar sat quietly, bile in his throat,
thoughts of Maddi carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey in his
mind's eye. Before he could speak, the HC announced a clerk with
his package. "Keep the line open, Mr. Aeternum," Evans
requested.

"Sure, sure," Edgar said, hurrying to the
door. After a quick exchange with the clerk, he came back to his
desk. "I have it," he said, staring at the box. Despite knowing
what must be done, he couldn't bring himself to open it.

"Sir," Evans voice was subdued. "I
understand. I wish I could say I didn't, but I do. I was in your
place once, a long time ago. If I was there, I'd open it for you,
but I'm not. The longer we wait, the longer she has him, sir."

That quiet pronouncement brought Edgar to his
senses and he slit the closures on the box. Slowly, he opened it
and began removing the packing materials. There was a faint
chemical odor emanating from it, but he didn't recognize the smell.
Finally, he uncovered an envelope, took it out and opened it.
Before he removed the letter, he told Evans what he'd found.

"Good, sir," the barrister replied, voice
still tense. "Read it first before looking for more. Aloud, if you
would, please?"

"Yeah, no problem," Edgar said. He fumbled
with the paper, hands feeling numb and disconnected. "I have it.
Here we go," and he began to read:

"Mr. Aeternum,

Congratulations on the first round. I didn't
expect you to give in right away, but I'll admit to being very
surprised at your response to my suit. You're a bigger target than
I usually go for, but a chunk of your account would allow me to
retire. Can't blame a girl for trying, right?

Your barrister is a real bastard, by the way.
I know he's the one behind the 'reassignment', as my previous
employer called it. I guess he didn't know I don't like losing;
nor, for that matter, do I like rural life on shithole colony
worlds. I'm not a rank amateur, Edgar; I won't be tossed away like
some piece of fluff.

Speaking of fluff… Your little boyfriend is
quite the tasty-looking piece. Or, was, anyway. He's been slightly
modified…"

Edgar dropped the letter. He felt as though
he'd just been hit in the stomach by one of Basca's killer punches.
Nothing registered in that moment, except Campbell's words, "He's
been slightly modified." It took him several seconds to hear Evans'
concerned voice over the comm.

"Mr. Aeternum! Are you there? Dammit, man,
answer me!" the barrister's voice thundered.

"Sorry, Evans," Edgar said, almost
whispering. He bent to retrieve the letter. "I, uh…" he managed
before Evans cut him off.

"No need to explain, sir. Please continue;
it's important," he said.

"You're right," Edgar answered, beginning to
read from where he'd left off.

"He's been slightly modified and will require
some time to heal. Of course, the first mods were necessary as he
was attempting to escape. Naughty boy! It's amazing the damage a
mini will do to someone's knees. As I said, that was just
necessity; normally, I prefer a more artistic approach to such
things. Assuming you haven't already found it, there's a little
surprise for you in the bottom of the box. I'm afraid I'm not as
good as I once was, but it's at least semi-recognizable. Of course,
even if you had pretty boy there and a surgeon standing by, it's
beyond reattachment. Sorry. I hear strap-ons are very realistic
these days, though.

Now, to business; I know the size of your
trust. Mommy and Daddy must've been fucking loaded! I want half.
You trust fund children sicken me. This is the number for an
account I've established:

Four-three-eight-eight-eight-nine-zero-seven-six-alpha-zed

You're to transfer half of your considerable
trust into that account. Don’t think you can trace it, either; like
I said, I am not an amateur. There are more dead-ends in the trail
than there are zeroes to the right of the decimal point in your
trust.

I'm giving you thirty-six hours to make the
transfer, Aeternum. The first twelve are a bonus so you can get
over the shock of my little surprise; and mother said I had no
heart. Once you transfer the funds, I'll send you the address where
you can pick up what's left of your boyfriend. Don't FUCK with me,
asshole! If you don't make the transfer by eight p.m. tomorrow,
I'll send you the berries that go with the twig; and I'll keep on
cutting every two hours after that, until he either dies or there's
nothing left to cut off.

Get on it, rich boy!"

"Well," said Evans, "she's certainly full of
herself. Of course, you said it would be so in your article. Now,
listen, sir, I know what comes next is difficult but it must be
done. If you prefer, I can have one of my security agents take it
from here."

"No, Evans," Edgar said. The bile was gone;
the fear was gone. Everything was gone but a white-hot anger that
burned like the sun. At some deeper level, Edgar was worried sick
about Maddi; however, he'd seen horror upon horror in his long life
and, while he couldn't tell Evans, he'd reached an inner space
where he was even more dangerous than Campbell. "That won't be
necessary. I can do it."

"As you wish, sir," if Evans was surprised by
the sudden change in Edgar's attitude or the steely cold in his
voice, he gave no indication.

Edgar put the letter down and removed the
last of the packing material. As promised, there was a small
plastic bag at the bottom of the box; the contents were soft as he
picked it up. It was the source of the chemical smell, despite
being sealed. One side was an opaque white; Edgar found himself
hoping the other was clear or else he'd have to open the bag to
identify what it contained.

He flipped it over and saw the other side
was, in fact, clear. The bag contained a piece of flesh,
approximately four inches long, perfectly butterfly cut, and a
small amount of blood. There was no mistaking it for a human penis;
however, it was too mangled to identify as Maddox' by sight
alone.

"Mr. Aeternum?" Evans prompted.

"I'm here, Evans," Edgar replied. "It's what
she said it was. She did a piss poor job of it, so I can't confirm
it's his by visual. Can you have one of your agents get here right
away? I want you to have a DNA scan run; I'll provide some of
Maddi's DNA for the comparison."

"Certainly, sir!" Evans answered. "Not to be
discouraging, but everything I've read of Miss Campbell suggests
that she does not lie when it comes to her 'art'."

"Understood," Edgar said. "In any case, I
want to know for sure." His mind wandered back to his first mate;
they never found the man's head after the accident. His body was
badly damaged and identity could only be confirmed by a DNA test.
"Evans?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do whatever you can to find them; spare no
expense. She may have made a mistake with her 'dead ends' when it
comes to that account. But," he paused, "start making preparations
to transfer half of my trust. If we can't find her in time, we have
no choice."

"Of course, sir," Evans said. "But I'd be
remiss if I didn't point out that it's unlikely that she will allow
Mr. Bristow to live even if you meet her demands."

"I know, Evans," Edgar said, devoid of
emotion. "I have to do everything I can for him, though."

"As you wish, sir," the barrister replied.
"Is there anything else I can assist you with? If not, I'll begin
investigating that account."

"We're good here, Evans. By all means, start
with that account; and with the transfer prep. End call."

"Oh Miss Campbell," Edgar said aloud, still
holding the plastic bag. "We're going to meet, you and I, if I have
anything to do about it. When we do, I'll show you a thing or two
I've learned about 'art' in the last four hundred years. We won't
need baggies when the lesson's over, though; that, I promise
you."

Maddi slowly came
to, still on the bed. His knees were immobilized by severe
swelling, but the pain was only a dull throb in the background.
Jarvis must have used some of the Prozine on him; the stuff was
amazing at dulling pain. He lay, unmoving, for a moment then opened
his eyes. The lights were dimmed and he saw no sign of Jarvis or
Ridgely. He tried to push himself into a seated position, but that
only worsened the pain, threatening to knock him out again. Then he
noticed the smell.

Working at a vet clinic, Maddi had become
used to certain unpleasant smells to the point that he often didn't
notice them. Now, however, lacking much else to occupy himself, he
became aware of a set of unpleasant smells. There was feces and
urine; it must've been Ridgely, he thought, as the bed was clean
but for the blood from his knees. Underneath that, there was a
slight coppery tang, the blood, of course.

At first, he assumed that was from his own
injuries. Fighting through the pain, he leveraged himself into a
seated position from which he could see the nightmare in the corner
of the room. Ridgely was lying in the fetal position, surrounded by
a huge pool of blood. Maddi's first instinct was to look away, but
he forced himself to examine the gruesome tableau.

Ridgely wasn't moving; there was no rise and
fall of breathing, either. His face was locked in a rictus of pain
as though his death hadn't been an easy one. The blood was
concentrated near the man's groin and Maddi finally realized what
he was seeing. The part of his mind that was blocking out the worst
of the traumatic scene finally surrendered and he could see that
Jarvis had removed Ridgely's penis.