Winter's Knight (18 page)

“Very good,” Lucian replied, sympathetic to Tim’s obvious dislike ofbeingleft behind onguard duty. Clark insisted on two men for Lucian, not one, and Clark would leave Aaron and Cale with Gary while he and Kris combed the compound. Using night vision scopes, technology, and training, Clark and Kris would incapacitate anyofthe remainingsecurity. None ofthem were stupid enough to think that they could account for every one ofGary’s men or that allofthemwould leave their posts, and Aaron and Cale had surmised likely positions based on the estate’s blueprints. After Clark and Kris dispatched the manpower, video, and alarms, one of themwould report back in person so they could transport their prisoner.
Lucian reached one-hundred-seventy-four deep breaths and was beginning to worry when a complicated rap pounded on the side of the car. Lucian grabbed another helmet, put it on, and the three ofthem waited until the code knock sounded again. Tim grabbed his rifle, Lucian unholstered his forty-four, and only Tim exited from the vehicle. A moment later, he and Kris joined Lucian and Koyzumi-san inside the limo.
“Evenin’,” Kris said, jovial beneath the raised visor of his headgear. He aimed his rifle at the car’s roof as they started to move. “Three poor saps downed, bound, and retired early for the night. Alarms are, alas, no more, and our handy gadgetry shows no movement and no more warm bodies. Clark’s got the van, and I heard a sweet symphony ‘a tears comin’ from dear Gary. Somethin’ tells me he’ll be quite amenable by the time we get himinhis owntorture chambers.”
“Good,” Tim said, and Lucian didn’t miss how the end of Tim’s gun pointed at Kris’ thigh. “We remain in radio silence until we’re set in the interior and everyone’s inposition.”
“Aye, cap’n my cap’n,” Kris murmured, head back and eyes closed. He looked tired and lean, like a predator fed only scraps for too many winter months. Lucian kept his sympathies to himself, and said nothing as they rode to the rear doors of Gary’s upended sanctuary.
Allthe lights were out around the luxurious mansion, and the limo’s tires crunched crockery and terra cotta when it halted by the rear entrance. Lucian fought claustrophobia fed by inactivity and impatience, and Kris climbed out of the car first, slamming the door shut. Tim tapped his visor, and Lucian turned a dial on the side of the helmet. The green, grey, and red of night visionflooded around Lucian, and again, theywaited.
Lucian had lost track of breathing and was fixated instead on trying to conjure the exact curl of Shea’s eyelashes when the arrhythmic tap beat the side of the car. Heart leaping at the chance to move, Lucian followed Timout of the cage at long last. Koyzumi-san stayed behind the wheel, engine running, and Lucian barely had the chance to adjust to the vertigo that came frommoving with the helmet on and screened vision up. He followed Tim, and Clark, identifiable by the ‘SARGE’ spray painted on the tactical headgear, covered their rear.
Boots silent on the marble, the three men marchcrouched their way through decadence paid for in blood: great room, hallway, dining and seating areas, and finally a stairwell heading down. Lucian and Clark waited for Tim’s signal at the bottom, and swept to the lower level. They walked down another hallway, past closed doors and secured areas. Before they rounded the final corner, Lucian paused until Tim cleared the wayand gave the signalto proceed.
The door leading into the dungeon looked like a steelbank vault. Aaron and Cale flanked its open maw, and Lucian saw two heat signatures within the room. One was moving, the other was lying prone, elevated on a platform, and stationary. Tim waved Lucian and Clark onward, and went to take his position in the choke point created by stairs and hall. One of Lucian’s bodyguards -- it was impossible to tell the massive bulks apart -- followed to back Tim. Clark and Lucian stepped over the raised threshold into the dungeon, and the remaining guard swung shut the portal behind them. It was easy to get out and only possible to get in with the locking codes, which Lucian’s men allhad thanks to Kris.
Clark raised a hand in an exaggerated signal, and Lucian shut off the night vision and removed his helmet. Kris and Clark worked diligently with the aid of head lamps and portable floor fixtures, hanging a flood light from a meat hook dangling from the low, grimy ceiling. Shiny implements were affixed to the walls, ratty furniture was positioned around the room, and Lucian tried not to pay too much attention to any of the details, else he start imagining Shea, bloody and bruised and beggingfor mercy.
“...geeky boy... predilection toward obedience, and a great capacityfor pain...”
“We’re back online, sir,” Clark said, one hand raised to the side ofhis helmet.
Lucian nodded and shook off the horror found in extensive comprehension. He busied himself by aiming his gun at Gary, who was still hooded, now naked, and vigorously chained to a tipping metal bondage table covered in muck that Lucian didn’t want to inspect too closely. Gary was whimpering, sometimes shouting profanity or threats, but they were hoarse and muddled, underscored by fear and the scent of urine, sweat, and desperation.
“O’Malley!” Gary screamed when Kris and Clark violently tipped the table nearly vertical. The chain caught bound wrists, ankles, thighs, torso, and neck. Two particularly nasty lengths affixed to the top of the table cut into the flesh where both Gary’s meaty legs joined his body, and one testicle suffered the wrath of gravity and unforgiving link until Clark kindly adjusted it so Gary would stop offending their eardrums with shrieking.
“I don’t think he can hear you,” Lucian droned at volume, and Gary’s bare chest heaved. “Gentlemen, if youplease?”
“May wish t’shield your eyes,” Kris warned, and Lucian did so. Clark grabbed Gary’s hood, and Kris switched on the flood light dangling in front of Gary’s form. The white light wasn’t intolerable to Lucian, but Garywrithed ina delightfulsort ofway.
“Oh dear, my apologies,” Lucian said genteelly, tucking his gun into the front of his pants. “But my men do like to see the full canvas set up for their artistic exploration.”
“Who the fuck are youpeople?”Garyyelled.
Lucian hummed, not answering right away. Clark moved to stand to Lucian’s left, rifle back in hand. Lucian noted that Kris’ weapon was behind Clark on a chair, and the business end of Clark’s gun, while nominally pointed a the floor near Gary’s bare, blue feet, was also aimed in Kris’ general direction. Lucian didn’t fail to note that Kris seemed completely at ease with that setup, sticking close to their prisoner’s side, just out ofGary’s line ofsight.
“Oh, how rude of me,” Lucian said, broadcasting that he was taking a step forward and letting Clark adjust. “GaryBoehler, I’mLucianGray--”
“Wha--what?” Gary barked, interrupting, and Lucianclucked his tongue. He nodded at Kris.
“Listen to the nice man, Mr. Boehler, he shouldn’t fucking have to tell you twice.” Kris made a quick jab at Gary’s side, apparently hitting soft tissue and kidney as Gary screamed and kicked helplessly. When the sobs subsided, Kris stood before the man and removed his helmet. “And I’m cock-sure you know me, Mr. Boehler.” The whites shone around Gary’s dark pupils, and the chains rattled. Spittle fell from Gary’s bottom lip, frothy from pain. Kris grunted, stepped to the side again, and Luciandrew closer to the light.
“Lovely that you and Mr. Fawkes are already acquainted, and I believe you’ve met my man, Clark,” Lucian said. Clark waved one gloved hand cheerfully at the bound man, attracting Gary’s stunned stare. Lucian chuckled. “Very nice, and now that we’re all properly introduced, you may wish to ask us what we want so that we might tell you the smoothest and least painful pathto your release.”
“R-release?” Gary stammered and swallowed thickly. “Fuckin’ lyingbastard, you’d never--”
“Respect,” Lucian growled, drawing nearer with Clark flanking him. “Mr. Boehler, respect and honesty are what I require, else I be forced into allowing my associate free reinuponyour person.”
Gary tried to look left and right, but the chain trapped him. Lucian watched panic rise, falter, linger at the peak. “You... what... The helldoes the mayor’s son want withme?”
“Better, Mr. Boehler, better, and surely you must have some idea. I hear you’re quite the smart man. A true entrepreneur ofpainful, exploitative enterprise.”
Gary’s eyes narrowed, flicked rapidly around the room. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
Lucian sighed. “I see. Pity. Mr. Fawkes?” Lucian ignored Gary’s escalatingcries. “Ifyouwould, please?”
“Certainly, sir.” Kris neatly backhanded Gary across the face, using his other bare hand to grab, squeeze, and pull balls and cock into one brutal fist. When Gary’s pitch reached painful, Kris let go and used the mired hand to land one more hard slap on Gary’s other cheek. Lucian’s teethrattled insympathy.
“My thanks, Mr. Fawkes,” Lucian said above Gary’s whining. “Your dedication to your due diligence is admirable.”
Kris chuckled. “I bask inyour praise.”
“Indeed. Clark?” Lucian asked and mismatched eyes flashed at himbeneath the lip ofheadgear. “Do we have some water for refreshment? I fear I’mparched.”
“Naturally, sir,” Clark said, unstrapping a pouch and handing Lucian a small bottle. “Be prepared and all that.”
“Entirely.” Lucian crept closer to Gary, and Kris politely stepped away but stayed within Clark’s close range. There was something about such a dangerous man metaphorically nodding in obedience that made the adrenaline thrumming in Lucian’s veins positively sing. He made note to reward good behavior. Another few goes at Garywould likelydo the trick.
Lucian uncapped the water, took a sip, and smacked his lips. “Feelinga little more forthcoming, Mr. Boehler? Or mayI callyou‘Gary’?”
“Didn’t... didn’t have no choice...” Gary wheezed, and Lucian’s ears prickled while he nodded in mock sympathy. “Girls... not my fuckin’ idea... had to... they’d killme...”
“Of course, dear man, of course,” Lucian said, and he held the rim of the water bottle to Gary’s mouth, let the asshole take a shallow sip. “And I desire nothing more than to remove you from such unfortunate circumstances created against your rather feeble will.” Gary blinked at Lucian, lashes wet with tears of suffering. “Simplytellus where your stashes ofevidence may be found, and I’ll not only let you go, but broker a dealwiththe authorities uponyour behalf.”
“Deal?” Gary repeated, a spark of clarity returning to his eyes, and Lucian gloried in the creation of false hope.
Lucian smiled, wide and insincere. “I am nothing if not a manofmyword, Gary.”
For a moment, Gary’s watery, irksome breathing was the only sound in the enclosed space. Lucian waited with an exterior show of patience he did not feel until Gary tensed in the restraints. “Safe. Far corner over there.”Garytried to nod to indicate direction.
“Mr. Fawkes, if it isn’t too much trouble...” Lucian said, watching Gary. Clark pivoted and followed Kris’ strides toward the front left corner of the room. Kris crouched, slid aside a smalltrunk, and waved one hand.
“Combination, Gary?” Lucian inquired, and Gary spouted a slur ofnumbers.
Lucian heard faint beeping, a clank, and Kris pulled out a stack of slim disks, a baggy containing a number of small glass vials, and one slender booklet. He riffled through the pages, and then eyed the contents of the bag. “There’s merely a third of the physical evidence, but a whole set a’ vids.”
“I see,” Lucian droned. Slowly, he swiveled his gaze back to Gary, who was already squirming. “Gary? Might I inquire after the rest ofyour stash?”
“N-no...” Gary struggled, the futility of it almost sad.
“No?” Lucian echoed, and Kris handed evidence over to Clark before resuming his position near the tilted table. “Oh, dear, Gary, but that’s not a word I enjoyhearingfromthe mouths ofmyattentive subjects.”
“No! I mean...” Gary flailed. “There’s no way you could get it, right?”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself with the agonizing little details, Gary. Respect and honesty, remember?”
“It’s... I...”Garystammered.
“Mister--”Lucianstarted.
“No!” Gary wailed. “Subway station! At Park and Concord! There’s... there’s a bank of lockers near the payphone. It’s... number sixteen. I swear to Christ! I swear to God! I--”
“--need not swear to any other deity in my presence, Gary,” Lucian said, and Kris coughed. “Clark?”
“Yes, sir,” Clark said, and repeated the location into the mic in his helmet. Gary’s eyes grew wide and wider, and Lucian glanced at Kris, whose answering gaze was entirely understanding. The man was likely lying, but Lucianshrugged one shoulder, retreated a few steps, and sipped the water. Kris stayed still, allowing Lucian the show of trust, while no doubt internally rejoicinginthe persuasionthat was inevitablyto follow.
Gary tried to engage in conversation while they waited for Daniel and his off-duty NAPD friends to hunt down the bogus evidence. Lucian ignored the prisoner, uninterested in anything Gary said if it didn’t serve the overall purpose, and delighted to withhold details of a deal Gary so desperately wanted sealed. Thankfully, the track and search didn’t take nearly as long as it could have, and Lucian wasn’t even tired of standingbythe time Clark stirred.
“Sir, theydidn’t find either a locker or evidence.”
“Gary, Gary, Gary...” Lucian said, shaking his head and walking beyond the glow of the flood lamp. A positive avalanche of apology and information spewed fromthe captive’s mouth, but Lucian paid it no mind. “I ask so very little of you, and you choose to disobey. You leave me, I fear, no alternative. Mr. Fawkes?” Lucian looked over his shoulder and caught a fiercely bright gaze. “Do leave Mr. Boehler alive and capable of speech, but the rest is at your discretion.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kris stepped into position, and Lucian faced away from the torture, which, while effective, was still unappetizing to his palate. Lucian caught Clark dropping chin, also not watching, though Clark remained diligently ready to shoot somebody if anything went awry. The heavy thud of full-force blows filled the room, as did screams, curses, cries to heaven, and Lucian tuned it out at that point. He closed his eyes and mentally played “Moonlight Sonata” on his piano, the notes cresting over the screeching harpy of arduous necessity.
When the hits paused, Lucian tensed. He heard Kris murmur something to Gary with suitably sinister undertones, and Lucian spun on his heel. Gary’s cheek had a nasty gash, and bruises were blooming in a garden of red, purple, and black. The smell of void filled the air, the pain inspiring some of the more basic bodilyreactions, and Lucianretrieved a tinypot ofsalve from one pocket. He smeared thick mint cream under his nose and minded his footfalls as he carefully approached the man responsible for the rape, abuse, and murder ofat least a dozenpeople, ifnot more.