Authors: Jonathan Maberry
“You want to cut to it, friend?” I said. “You set a trap and we walked into it. Now we have a standoff. What’s the punch line here?”
“Oh, it’s pretty simple,” he said. “I’m in charge of quality control here. Our clients had some questions about our security. Despite all of our assurances that we have excellent security as well as redundant, fail-safe and alternative systems, they were still jittery. So I arranged a practical demonstration. We, um,
leaked
some information to several law enforcement agencies, domestic and foreign, over the last fourteen months. Different information to each agency, and leaked in ways that would encourage them to keep that information in-house. You know how you fellows in the alphabet agencies hate to share. Since then we’ve had the FBI, the CIA, Homeland, the DEA, and a few other groups come poking around. Not here, of course, and never the same company twice.”
“You’re not Marquis Pharmaceuticals?”
“Oh, hell no. And, by the way, Marquis doesn’t actually know we’re down here. At least, no one in authority does. We own key members of maintenance and security, as we do with fifty or so other companies, including the construction company that built this place, the zoning board, and the various federal offices that watchdog facilities of this kind. That’s the real way to get things done, you know. Forget about corrupting the high-profile executives. They’re always being watched and audited. No, the secret is to own the blue-collar grunts and the watchdogs because nobody of consequence is looking at them. It’s the same way with some of the financial games we have running—we have our people in the IRS, the SEC, as well as Wall Street. We own the people who are paid to look for the bad guys.”
“That has a familiar ring to it,” I said.
His smile turned into a grin.
“I’ll bet it does.”
“You’re the Seven Kings,” I said.
His grin kept getting bigger.
Oh fuck.
The Seven Kings were the world’s most powerful and elusive organization. They pretended to be an ancient secret society and reinforced that by hijacking the history and urban legends of other secret societies, from the Illuminati to the Neo-Templars. They also pretended to be terrorists, but in truth they used terrorist groups as pawns, funding and supporting them and ultimately aiming them at specific targets. Terror, however, was only a byproduct of their game, and they weren’t in it for God or to further a political agenda. They were in it for the money. If you knew exactly when a major terrorist attack was going to happen, you could make an incredible fortune during the flight-to-safety stock market panic that always follows. The Kings were behind 9/11 and the 2009 economic crash. Three of the Kings—Osama Bin Laden, Sebastian Gault, and Hugo Vox—were dead. That left four of them, and any replacements they might have recruited.
“I am a very small cog in the machine that is the Seven Kings,” he admitted. “The organization, however, is always growing. And in case you’re wondering, we’ve filled all outstanding vacancies. Killing me won’t stop this project, and it won’t prevent our clients from receiving the fruits of our research.”
“Let’s see if that’s true after I blow your nutsack off.”
He just grinned.
“Okay, Sparky,” I said, “so you duped me here with an anonymous phone call. You also put out the stuff about Ryerson?”
“Sure,” he agreed. “Mr. Ryerson is one of ours. Very low level, but like I said, that’s where the action is.” He turned his smile toward Violin. “We were hoping for Interpol or a Recces operative from South Africa. But I don’t think that’s who you are.”
“She’s a Jehovah’s Witness,” I said. “She wants to know if you heard the word of God today.”
“Cute.”
Violin thought so, too. She laughed. There was a bit of a threat in the laugh, too. And a bit of fear.
“I wasn’t clear on something,” said the guy, “so let me correct that. When I said that I didn’t know who you were, miss, I meant personally. I know which organization you belong to. Arklight has become quite a troublesome little sewing circle. That’s why I invited representatives of our newest client to join us.”
“Joe…,” murmured Violin, and even as she said it I heard a soft scuff behind us. I turned. Door number two stood open, and two Red Knights stood there.
They were also smiling.
Their mouths were filled with jagged teeth. You see teeth like that in monster movies, but in the movies they’re fake. They’re special effects. That’s not the case with the Knights. Those teeth are way too real. Both of the Knights carried weapons that looked like ice axes. Dagger-tipped on one end, hatchet blade on the other.
The Knights looked at me with their rat-red eyes and dismissed me with sneers. The looks they gave Violin were different. Women in general were less than nothing to the Red Knights, which was a viciously patriarchal society. Women were slaves and breeding stock. But Arklight was different. Those women had killed many of the Knights and hunted them around the world with the same ferocity as Nazi hunters after World War II. It was kill on sight on both sides, and I knew that they would go after Violin with every intention of killing her while making the torment last.
The fact that they didn’t attack her immediately suggested that they didn’t know who she was. If they knew that she was Violin, daughter of Lilith, there would already be blood on the floor.
I jerked my head toward the Knights. “And them? The Seven Kings are recruiting monsters now?”
“Oh, hell,” said the scientist, “we’ve always recruited monsters. I believe you’ve encountered some in the past.”
“So, what’s the play?” I asked. “We all know how this ends, so tell me why we’re still chatting.”
He nodded. “You’re right, we do know how it ends. Ideally I live, you die, my clients are satisfied that we know who’s looking at us and, more importantly, how they’re looking and how they typically respond. So far there have been no surprises. The administrator in me appreciates that, because it allows the Kings to continue working the way we’ve always been working, knowing that the blunt predictability of the United States government’s various law enforcement agencies actually contributes to our success. However, the sociopath in me—and, yes, I admit it; in the Kings that’s both a job requirement and pathway to promotion—that part of me is disappointed in how clumsily you’ve walked into this trap. I thought that the DMS would send someone of greater skill.”
I shrugged. “Life sucks sometimes.”
He gave a sad nod of agreement. “So true. Anyway, to answer your question, the ‘play’ is that you get a choice. We want to know exactly how the information we leaked was disseminated internally by your organizations. Who received it, who processed it, who had eyes on it, how and to whom was it shared. That sort of thing. A complete rundown.”
“Let me get right on that,” I said. “We betray our people and then you kill us. I have to tell you, Sparky, that your sales pitch eats dog turds.”
“No, wait, hear me out,” said the guy. “That’s not the choice I was talking about.”
“This should be good,” murmured Violin. Behind her the Knights growled like dogs.
“It is,” insisted the guy. “There are three possible scenarios. In one scenario—the one I think we can all be happy with—we sit down over coffee and you talk, and that talk will be viewed as part of the application process for joining our organization. In that scenario we’re all friends and nobody gets trigger-happy. Nobody dies.”
“Very generous,” said Violin.
“Isn’t it?” the guy said, nodding. “And your safety would be guaranteed. You become part of our team, and believe me, the pay and benefits are spectacular. We take very good care of our people and we reward loyalty. Loyalty to us, I mean. Sure, there’s a vetting process and a probation period, but once you prove yourself, you’re really part of the family. No threats, none of that. It’s how they recruited me. Now I’m on the administrative level. You can be, too.”
“Why do I get the feeling that your nose should be growing a foot every time you open your mouth?” I asked.
“I’m dead serious.”
“Unfortunate choice of words,” said Violin.
“Oops. Yeah, sorry. We really do want you to join, and if you do then you have a real future and a great life. Look at me, look into my eyes. Do I look like I’m lying to you?”
I did, and I think he was genuinely serious. He held a lot of good cards, so there wasn’t much reason to lie to us.
“But the alternatives aren’t as much fun,” he continued. “In scenario two you still tell us everything we want to know, but you make us work for it. Make no mistake, you
will
tell us everything, but the process of encouragement is extreme, and what they bury afterward won’t even look like people.”
“Not a fan of that one,” I said.
“No, of course not,” said the guy. “Though my friends from the Red Knights are particularly fond of it.”
“We will rip the truth from you,” said one of the Knights.
“Shove it up your ass, Count Chocula,” I said.
Violin laughed so hard she snorted. Even the guy chortled.
“What’s the third scenario?” I asked, even though we all knew what that one would be.
“Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” said the guy.
I took a long breath and let it out slowly. “There’s a fourth scenario,” I said.
“Oh? Does it involve me suddenly coming to my senses and letting you arrest me?”
“Not exactly. It involves you unburdening your soul to me. You tell us everything you know about the Seven Kings, including the identity of each King, the names of your customers, and the locations of any bases you have.”
He goggled at me for a moment, then he burst out laughing. Even his guards looked amused, and until now they’d been stone-faced. I laughed, too. Violin turned to the Knights and gave them a saucy wink.
“That’s really funny,” said the guy.
“I know, right?” I said.
“It’s also the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.
“Not entirely.”
I cut a look at Violin, and she wore a small, confused frown. She had no idea where I was going with this. I put a bland smile on my face.
“I will go this far,” I said. “I’ll tell you our names. It might matter in the way this all plays out.”
“Please do.”
“I’m Captain Joseph Edwin Ledger.”
His face went slack for a moment and he lost some color. But he recovered fast and cleared his throat.
“And the, um, young lady?”
The young lady straightened, her chin lifting imperiously. “You can call me Violin, daughter of Lilith, senior field operative of Arklight.”
You really could have heard a pin drop. I think I heard the Red Knights grinding their fangs together. The Seven Kings guy’s face kept vacillating between horrified shock and the delight of a kid on Christmas morning who thought he was getting socks and underwear and instead discovered a pony with a bow tied around its neck.
“Oh my God,” he breathed.
“Yeah. Bit of a jackpot moment,” I said.
“This slut is ours,” growled one of the Red Knights. “We will use her until she screams for death and then send her eyes to the demon Lilith.”
“You are welcome to try,” said Violin. “I’ll break your teeth out and add them to my collection.”
They hissed at her. Actually hissed, like cougars. The sound made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight out from gooseflesh skin.
Into the ensuing silence, I said, “I’m going to give you two choices, Sparky. In scenario one, you tell your guys to lay down their weapons and you come and have a confessional moment with my boss and me.”
He just stared at me as if I’d suggested he pour live scorpions into his tighty-whities.
“Scenario two,” I said, “a whole bunch of people die, and you’re the first to hit the deck. If you’re really, really lucky, you die before I turn you over to my boss.”
“You do realize,” said the guy, “that there are four laser sights on your chest. Four.”
“Sure. And there are three of ’em on your chest.”
His smile flickered. I had my gun on him and Violin had her pistol on the closest Knight. “Three? But….”
The guy’s voice trailed off as he looked down. My laser sight was rock-steady on his sternum. But two other dots flanked it.
“I don’t...,” he began, then he raised his eyes and looked at the doorway. The snouts of two rifles protruded only an inch into the chamber. An inch was enough.
“Call it, Boss,” said Bunny in my ear.
The Knights whirled and snarled.
“Nine, three, go,” I snapped.
The other laser sights shifted and found new targets. There were two
pffts
of silenced rifles and the guards on either side of the guy flew backward as 5.56 × 45 mm NATO rounds exploded their heads.
There was perhaps a single fragment of time when no one moved, when the realities of this new version of the game were painted in the air for everyone to read. Then it all became very fast and messy.
I kicked the guy into the two guards behind him. It was a hard damn kick, and they all staggered backward, but both guards fired at the same time. Wild shots that pinged and whanged all over the place. I dodged and drove forward as bullets burned around me. I felt one round tug my sleeve and another ricochet off the floor and clip my heel.
Behind me, Violin emptied her gun at the Red Knights. One of them slammed into her in a diving tackle that should have crippled her. It would have broken the bones of any ordinary person. But Violin was born in the breeding pits. That meant she was half human and half
Upierczi
. She’s stronger, faster, and a hell of a lot more durable than anyone I ever met. She could bench press me. She did it once in bed just to prove she could.
I heard a scream, but I don’t think it was hers.
The other Red Knight whirled and tried to find cover from the gunfire that had erupted from the doorway. But Top and Bunny were on their feet, running into the room, taking lots of quick little steps so as not to interfere with their aim. Their aim was superb. Rounds punched into the Knight and tore blood and screams and life from him. The rounds made him judder and dance, and the wall behind him became a splash painting of bright crimson.