The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (7 page)

Wilma fainted again, her
will no longer enough to keep her going. Gray hurried toward her
and had just knelt beside her when he heard the door to the
warehouse slam shut. He looked up in alarm, his eyes scanning over
the still form of Samantha. It was Pemberley, making a break for
it.

Let him go
, Gray
decided.
Justice will find him soon enough.

***

Wilma Nero smiled
gratefully. "Thank you so much, Mr. Gray. I don’t know how I can
repay you."

The girl looked so bright
and cheerful, it was almost impossible to think that until a few
days ago she’d been the host to an alien parasite. She sat with
Peter Scanlon in the meeting room of Assistance Unlimited, facing
Lazarus and his aides. She was holding Peter’s hand and the man
looked ecstatic. Once Gray had told her that it had been Scanlon’s
chivalric desire to help her that had led Gray on to the case,
she’d warmed to the man considerably.

"No payment is necessary,"
Gray replied. "Your case has given me more than you know and
monetary recompense would only taint that."

Wilma looked confused but
she nodded. After she and Scanlon had been shown out, Gray turned
to face his staff, all of which were looking at him with
interest.

A faint smile touched
Gray’s lips and vanished just as rapidly. "Ask away."

The three of them exchanged
glances and it was Morgan who spoke up first. "The moisture-eating
worm?"

"I removed it myself and
threw it into the fireplace. I also disposed of the others that
were in the warehouse."

"Pemberley?" Eun
asked.

"Still on the loose. We’ll
have to keep an eye out for him. He’s dangerous and growing more
unstable by the day."

It was now Samantha’s turn
and she realized that the boys had left it to her to broach the
most difficult subject. "What did you mean about this case giving
you so much?"

"Is that really what you
want to ask?"

Samantha swallowed hard.
"When I was on the floor, I heard some of what was going on.
Between you and that German. It didn’t make much sense."

Gray sighed, looking
quickly at Eun and then back to Samantha. "My name isn’t Lazarus
Gray. I don’t know what my name is. I woke up in the harbor during
the summer of 1933. All I know about myself are a few scattered
memories… and this." He pulled out the medallion from his pocket,
holding it up for the others to see. "A lion-headed man and the
words Lazarus Gray scrawled on the back."

"You’ve checked your face
and prints against the FBI files?" Morgan asked.

"Of course. No one
recognizes me and I have no record that can be traced. But that man
knew me. He’s a piece from my past."

"And the lion?" Samantha
asked. "How did that man do that? Was he a magician?"

"A literal one, perhaps.
There are strange things in this world, things that defy rational
explanations. Some of my memories are related to human sacrifice
and occult gatherings." Gray clasped his hands behind his back and
looked at each of them, his eyes slowly shifting from one to the
other. "I have a feeling that things will never be the same for us.
I cannot promise you that we will continue to face gangsters and
rapists. If any of you want to walk away now, I will
understand."

Morgan grunted. "Are you
kidding, Chief? We all owe you our lives. Whatever happens from
here on out, you’ve got Assistance Unlimited at your
side."

Gray saw the determination
in their eyes and nodded grimly. Though he would never say it
aloud, he loved his aides. That was why he was both pleased to hear
that they would stay with him and also more than a bit frightened.
In the nocturnal war that was looming ever larger in Sovereign
City, one that was threatening to involve forces beyond
explanation, there was no guarantee that any of them would live to
see the dawn.

THE END

An Adventure of Lazarus
Gray

Written by Barry
Reese

Chapter I

The Eight Pages

Harry Nance held the
envelope to his lips with trembling fingers. His tongue dragged
heavily across the strip of glue that would seal away the eight
parchment leaves. When he was done, he checked the addressed he’d
hurriedly scrawled, verifying that it was correct: 6196 Robeson
Avenue, Sovereign City. Satisfied that it would reach its intended
audience, Harry dropped the envelope into the mailbox and pulled
his long overcoat tighter around his body. A harsh wind was
blowing, carrying with it the salty scent of the harbor and the
acrid odor of a heavily polluted city. Sovereign was a harsh place
to grow up and Harry liked to think that if he’d been born in
another place and time, he could have been something
great.

The truth was that Harry
was like so many men in the world: he was willing to trade his soul
for easy money. He was a lazy soul, one who wanted the trappings of
success but who wasn’t willing to put in the hard work required to
achieve it honestly.

And now the devil was
coming to collect his due.

Harry looked up at the
nighttime sky, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d made a
terrible mistake and wished desperately that he could undo it… but
it was too late for apologies. Besides, what was on those eight
pages was so terrible that not even a man like Harry could leave
them in the wrong hands. That’s why he’d packaged them up and sent
them on their way, intending for them to end up someplace
safe.

Two men stepped around a
corner up ahead, blocking Harry’s path. Both of them wore dark
clothing, the sort that had once been associated with those
Oriental assassins dubbed Ninja. Each of the men held a
three-pronged blade that Harry knew was called a sai.

Harry whirled around,
intending to retreat in the opposite direction but he came to an
abrupt stop. There were three more men standing behind him, two of
them ninja. The third was all the more frightening: for he was
leader of these men, who collectively were known as Black Heart.
Black Heart served Malcolm Goodwill, one of the most ironically
named human beings on the planet. Goodwill had no love for any
person other than himself. Standing six feet, six inches tall, he
looked down on virtually everyone. Goodwill had silver blond hair
and arched eyebrows. He dressed like a European aristocrat and had
cultivated a pseudo-British accent, despite the fact that he had
been born in Philadelphia.

"Harry," Goodwill said with
a shake of his head. "I’ve treated you well, have I not? Didn’t I
give you a bonus last Christmas? And when your mother needed eye
surgery, who paid for it?"

"It’s wrong what you’re
doing," Harry stated but his words lacked conviction. The fear made
his voice shake too much to carry moral authority.

Goodwill gestured for his
ninja to move closer to Harry. They encircled him but held off from
making any attacks. "That’s not really for you to decide, now is
it?"

Harry looked around but the
streets were deathly silent. No cars could be seen and if there
were any beat cops about, they were staying to the shadows. A few
drops of rain began to fall and Harry was glad of it. They would
help hide the tears that were threatening to come. "I don’t have
the pages anymore. They’re gone."

"Where are
they?"

Harry swallowed hard and
summoned every bit of courage he possessed. He tried to pretend he
was a movie star, someone like William Powell. "I’m not gonna talk.
You might as well kill me, Malcolm. Sometimes a man has to do
what’s right and for the first time in my life, I’m gonna do
that."

Goodwill stared hard at him
and then slowly reached into his jacket and retrieved a cigar. He
took his time in lighting a match and touching it to the tip of the
cigar. After puffing on it several times, he smiled at Harry. "Good
for you, Harry. I admire you for this." He looked at his men, who
stood at the ready. "Well? You heard the man? Let’s not ruin the
moment by giving him the chance to beg. Kill him."

Harry’s eyes opened wide
and he immediately regretted his earlier bravado. He started to beg
for another chance but the men surrounding him struck too quickly.
Their blades fell upon him, carving him up like a Thanksgiving
turkey.

Goodwill puffed away on his
cigar, anger blazing in his evil heart. He couldn’t believe that a
petty numbers runner like Harry Nance was undoing all of his
carefully laid plans. He tried to think of where a man like Harry
would have hidden the papers and finally came to the conclusion
that Harry had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. The papers
were probably hidden away somewhere in his apartment.

The dark-clad members of
Black Heart returned to their master, leaving Harry’s corpse in the
middle of the sidewalk. "Let’s go, gentlemen. We have places to
be."

***

The headquarters of
Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus
Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city
block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood
into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his
holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel.
Gray’s three associates used the first floor, while the second had
been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for
meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to
everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.

Across the street were
several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down
at the dawn of the Great Depression.

Samantha Grace, the pretty
blonde who was the only distaff member of Assistance Unlimited, was
sorting through the mail while gazing out the window. A typical
drizzly morning had greeted her upon waking and the distant rumble
of thunder suggested that the worst was yet to come.

The majority of letters the
group received consisted of interview requests. The press, it
seemed, could not get enough of the mysterious Lazarus Gray. All of
these were dropped into the trash. Lazarus wasn’t in this racket
for publicity and neither were his aides. All of them had suffered
because of the criminal elements and each had sworn the same oath
as their leader: to stop at nothing until the innocent people of
Sovereign City were able to walk their streets without fear for
their safety.

An unmarked envelope caught
Samantha’s attention and she slid a stainless steel letter opener
under its side. The envelope opened easily, spilling a handful of
papers onto the floor. Samantha knelt to retrieve them, muttering a
bit under her breath. Her scarlet colored skirt rustled about long
legs as she rose to her feet and she became aware that someone was
watching her. Looking over her shoulders she saw Morgan Watts
gazing with admiration. "Something I can help you with, Morgan?"
she asked.

"Not at all. You’re just a
welcome ray of sunshine, that’s all."

Samantha rolled her eyes
but silently welcomed the attention. Morgan was a handsome man but
he was a good bit older than her and had a checkered background. A
former gangster himself, Morgan was the Chief’s eyes and ears on
the street. Samantha, who came from a high-class background, found
Morgan’s past exploits somewhat exotic but she would never think to
ruin their friendship by pursuing romantic interests. She believed
Morgan felt the same but he was a man, after all. He was bound to
look upon occasion. "Look at these," she said, flipping through the
pages. "Strangest things I’ve ever seen."

Morgan took one of the
pages from her and studied it. That it was quite old was
undeniable. It felt like calfskin and the page was crammed with
writing, all in Latin. Each sheet was extremely long, measuring
nearly three feet in length. "Who sent these?"

"There’s no return
address."

"Too bad my Latin’s so
rusty."

Samantha smirked, knowing
that Morgan knew as much about Latin as he did about ladies’
fashion. In other words, virtually nothing. "I’ll take them to the
Chief."

"Sounds like a plan."
Morgan handed over the sheet he’d been holding and cleared his
throat. "Listen, doll, you doing anything Saturday
night?"

Samantha blinked, wondering
if she’d heard correctly. "Just the usual: hanging around
headquarters and waiting for something to happen."

"Well, I have these tickets
for the movie house. It’s nothing fancy, mind you – one of those
Evelyn Gould adventure flicks – but I was thinking that since I
have two tickets and there’s only one of me that I should take
somebody with me."

"Are you asking me on a
date?"

"No!" Morgan guffawed and
Samantha wasn’t certain if she should feel relieved or insulted.
"It’s just two friends, doll. Nothing more than that. Believe
me!"

Samantha fought to keep a
frown off her face. "That’s fine. We can do that, Morgan. But I
can’t promise anything, really. I mean, anything might come up
between now and then."