5th Pentagram: The sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 3 of the Darc Murders Trilogy) (Book 3 of the Darc Murder Series) (36 page)

Random. Like the randomness found in nature.

The Fibonacci sequence.

The killer would want the highest levels of destruction to catch the largest amount of individuals. The Fibonacci sequence started with zero, then one, then another one, then a two, then a three… the distribution was weighted toward the beginning of the sequence.

The first float must have been designated a zero.

Darc sprinted for the next float down, this time neglecting to say anything to the driver. Extended arguments about whether or not the floats should be stopped would waste too much time.

Instead, Darc crouched down as he ran alongside the float, this one a forest scene with sharp circular blades embedded in the false trees. Several men lounged about, holding chainsaws. It was a float for the lumberjack union that operated here in Seattle.

And there, underneath the chassis, was what Darc was seeking.

It was a huge block of C4, but that was not the end of it. Embedded in the square of explosive material was what appeared to be a wireless phone. Something to receive a remote signal to detonate.

And surrounding the entire mechanism were wedges and scraps of metal of all kinds. Steel, zinc, aluminum. Darc even thought he could see a glimmer of copper.

Shrapnel.

Each of the floats was designed to explode in such a way to create the most injury possible. It would be a bloodbath.

Stepping back away from the float, Darc ran to the front of the vehicle, holding up his badge. As the driver spotted the identification, he stopped.

“You must all vacate this float immediately. There is a bomb underneath.”

Darc’s statement had the desired effect. Every person on the float dropped whatever they were holding and fled, most without giving even a backward glance in Darc’s direction.

Moving back to the side of the float, Darc bent over to view the bomb once more when there was a loud pop and he felt pain blossom in his side. Turning around, Darc came face to face with someone unexpected.

It was the Mayor of Seattle.

Streams of information flooded Darc’s mind, the colors ebbing and flowing with the shocking revelation. All of the signs now crystalized, pointing at the mind… and the man… behind it all. The one who had set every piece of this chess game in motion.

Including Darc himself.

And there he stood, the man who was arguably the most powerful person in the city, with a smoking gun in his hand.

Darc felt along his side, his hand coming away wet with blood. The flows of logic assessed the damage, calculating the severity, the rate of blood loss, how long it would be until he lost consciousness.

He did not have much time.

“I can’t allow you to do that, Detective Darcmel,” the Mayor said, tucking the gun away in his waistband before allowing his suit coat to cover up the weapon. “I’ve spent a long time setting this up.”

The colors threaded themselves about the figure in front of Darc, calculating weight, determining speed and possible strength based off of the man’s age and build. He was in his 50s, but lean, with a V-shape to his torso that indicated a measure of strength.

He would be a formidable opponent at the best of times, and Darc was injured.

“I need to let you know, Detective,” the man informed him, “that even if you manage to overpower me, the bomb will still detonate. Soon.”

“Explain.”

“Ah.” The Mayor smiled. “Such directness. But please, don’t try to distract me.” He moved closer to Darc, lashing out with his fist, connecting with Darc’s wounded side. The pain was intense enough to almost drown out the Mayor’s next words. “You know already, don’t you? You’ve seen how the explosive device is rigged.”

“The cell phone,” Darc croaked, wheezing.

“Yes, the cell phone. An email is scheduled to go out as a text message to that phone and others just like it all along the entire parade.”

Darc felt the streaming glow of the colors shift and move with each new statement the Mayor made. The empty spaces in the tapestry were filling in.

Finding the full pattern could lead to a solution, but Darc could feel his energy ebbing away with every beat of his heart. His shirt stuck to him where the blood continued to seep through, the wet area growing. He had to understand why the Mayor was doing this, and quickly.

“Why are you attacking the city?”

“Detective Darcmel, I’m disappointed. You haven’t understood something as simple as my motive?” Another blow punctuated the question. Darc stumbled to his knees for a moment before pushing himself back to standing.

“It is illogical.”

The Mayor sighed. “There is nothing illogical about it. I am gathering the best minds, the best bodies, the best spirits together in one place. They will congregate around the tragedy.”

He kicked out, but Darc managed to spin to the side, avoiding the blow. Darc snatched the Mayor’s foot and dropped his other elbow down in between the bones of the shin. The Mayor cried out in pain, but managed to pull back his leg.

Darc felt the conflict inherent in the Mayor’s statement, a conflict clarified by the glowing strands of blue and green that were dancing about in his mind. There was no hint of disharmony in his inner self. All the discordance was centered in his side.

“What of the heroes killed in the blast?” Darc asked, forcing the words out.

“I don’t understand.”

Darc circled the Mayor with shuffling steps, working to maneuver him closer to the float. The man would counter with every step Darc took, going exactly where Darc was trying to send him. All that remained was to keep consciousness.

“In the initial blasts, some of the best and brightest will certainly be killed,” Darc responded. It was simple mathematics. An indisputable fact.

It also seemed to rattle the Mayor. “That… that is part of the price that will need to be paid by the city.”

“There is no way of measuring the loss from the crowd. You are depleting the supply of those the city needs.”

“That’s not true.”

Darc took the final step, urging the Mayor into position with his back against the front of the float. All it would take is one more foot.

The mayor took that step.

Rushing at the Mayor, Darc lowered his head at the last moment, spearing the man in the chest. He fell backward onto the front part of the float, pulling himself up and onto the main flat area the front that appeared to have been designed for dancing.

Fake trees with the oversized circular saws shook from the impact, but before Darc could follow up on his attack, the mayor had moved around to the side of the float, avoiding Darc.

But in his avoidance, the mayor opened up a direct path. Straight to the driver’s seat. Running as fast as he could while keeping consciousness, Darc approached the wheel.

From around the corner of the float appeared Trey, wielding one of the fallen chainsaws from the float.

“You drive,” he said, pulling the chain of the saw and cranking on the motor. “I’ll take care of the Mayor.”

* * *

Trey stalked forward, keeping at least one tree between himself and the Mayor. Trey had been there long enough to see what kind of punches the guy could land, and he wasn’t excited to have any part of that action.

“Detective Keane,” the mayor addressed him. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Trey countered around to the side as the older man moved around the tree that separated them from one another.

And then Darc must have gotten the motor running, as the float suddenly lurched forward, throwing both Trey and the mayor off balance. Trey was pushing himself back up to standing when he felt a blow land on his left arm, crushing the newly healed bone there, left over from their last case. Letting out a scream, Trey fell back toward the middle of the float, where there were more trees to protect him.

“You think you’re ready for this game. What you don’t realize is that you’ve never been more than just one of the pawns, ready to be discarded whenever necessary.”

Well, that stung. Enough so that it propelled Trey into motion. He lashed out with his foot, catching the mayor square in the face. There was a mild sensation of surprise as the man’s nose was crushed under his heel.

He’d scored a major hit.

Trey recovered from his shock enough to follow up with another couple of blows, mostly landed with his legs. Every time he tried to wield the heavy chainsaw, especially with just the one arm functioning, he was slow enough that the mayor could dodge.

“You can’t beat me,” he yelled at Trey. “The floats will still explode.”

“Oh, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Trey answered. “You should’ve seen how fast Cody caved once Mala started in on him. He gave up the codes in a millisecond.”

The mayor growled and attempted to rally, swinging his fists in a flurry at Trey’s head. But he couldn’t get past the whirling blade of the chainsaw.

And Trey still had the man on the ropes, in spite of his arm. The blow to the nose seemed to have at least partially blinded him. The mayor reeled back under Trey’s onslaught, grasping at the trunks of the false trees he battered up against. He knocked out one of the circular saws, which sang a metallic song as it bounced against the floor of the float.

“Who’s the pawn now?” Trey yelled at him, kicking out once more.

The last blow sent the older man to his knees, facing away from Trey. Scanning the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle from the safety of the curb, the mayor called out to them as he staggered back to his feet.

“Oh Lord, my God! Is there no help for the widow’s son?”

What the hell was that?

But the question was driven out of Trey’s mind as the float gave a huge lurch. Glancing back, Trey could see that Darc’s head had fallen to the steering wheel. He must have passed out and landed his foot right on the brake.

It was all Trey could do to keep from tipping forward off of the float, but what happened next drove all such mundane considerations right out of his mind.

Another of the circular saws, loosened by the earlier fight, was propelled forward from the inertia of the rapid stop. The blade spun in the air, headed straight toward the mayor, who had turned to face it at the last moment.

The metal circle struck the man in the skull, but didn’t stop there. It sliced cleanly through his entire torso, bisecting him from head to groin.

Before Trey even had a moment to react, the momentum of the blow careened the mayor directly into the path of Trey’s still spinning chainsaw. Made clumsy by the use of only one hand, Trey couldn’t move out of the way fast enough.

The chainsaw cut straight through the man’s waist, completing the drawing and quartering of the madman. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the blade, the float and Trey as the four sections of what was once a formidable serial killer fell to the ground.

Trey heard a voice screaming, and realized with some degree of alarm that it was his.

“Queen me, bitch!”

And then he slumped to the blood-slicked floor of the float and knew no more.

EPILOGUE

There had been a second, right after Janey saw Trey and Darc covered in blood, when she’d been scared. Really scared.

But right now, she was happier than she remembered being in a long, long time.

They were all at the hospital, and Trey was being cranky with the nurse because she was giving him a shot. Popeye kept calling him a baby and Janey kind of had to agree. He was whining an awful lot. Even more than Popeye usually did.

Mala had spent the whole time right next to Darc’s bed, at least as soon as he came out of surgery. The doctor had said lots of things that Janey couldn’t understand, but the lines in her head told her that everything was going to be okay.

Trey was complaining, Darc was resting and Mala was holding onto Darc’s hand like she was never going to let go ever, ever, ever. It was a good night, even if the parade had been ruined.

Popeye said he would never go to a parade again, but Janey told him he was being silly. If you didn’t do things you liked just because somebody did something bad with it, it was like you let the bad person be in charge of you.

Janey was in charge of herself. Well, Mala too. And Darc. And even Trey. But that was because they loved her and she loved them. That wasn’t really like they were in charge. It was just that she knew they wanted to help her.

She trusted them.

It was funny. Not the kind of funny that makes you laugh, but the funny that makes you think.

If the bad things had never happened to her, she wouldn’t know Darc or Trey or Mala or Maggie. And not knowing them would be so sad. She missed her mommy and daddy. So much. So much that sometimes she cried and cried for no reason.

But they were still there with her. She could think of them and their voices were inside her head, telling her that they loved her. So she didn’t miss them quite so much.

And she loved her new family so much.

They were a family.

Her family.

She moved in closer to Mala, tucking herself under the arm that wasn’t holding onto Darc. Mala looked down at Janey, her eyes filling up with tears.

“I love you, Janey.”

And Janey answered back, using her hands to sign.

I love you, too.

Afterword

Thank you very much for going on this adventure with Darc and Trey. Hopefully you enjoyed reading about their case as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If you did enjoy
5th Pentagram
, I'd love to ask you a favor and go back to Amazon and leave a review. Indie authors live and die by our reviews!

I’d also like to enlist your help. If you find any, and I mean any typos, spelling errors or anything funky, please contact me directly at
[email protected]
. Even though this book has gone through a gazillion edits, I am only human and your input is greatly appreciated!

Missing Darc and Janey already? Be on the watch for
3rd Body
, the first novel in the next trilogy of the
Darc Murders Series
. It will be out mid 2014. Can't wait until then? Check out the next section for more mystery/thrillers from Ben!