Parker 05 - The Darkness (41 page)

shocked to find that there was no dial tone.

"Shit!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. It wasn't quite

a substitute for "Help" but nobody could hear me anyway.

I walked around the room, looking for anything I could

use. There was nothing. I debated unscrewing one of the

wheels from the chairs to brandish as a weapon, but in a

warehouse filled with people armed to the gills it was

more apt to get me killed quicker.

They wanted me here for a reason, or they would have

killed me already. Besides, this room was too pretty to

commit murder in.

At least, that's what I thought until I saw the light red

stain on the carpet by the door I'd come in through. It had

clearly been scrubbed numerous times, but damned if

blood wasn't just too difficult a liquid to get out.

"His name was Jeremy Robertson," a voice said. "And

he didn't listen."

I whirled around to find a woman standing at the other

end of the room. From the lines and age in her face I made

her out to be in her early to mid-forties, but the tone and

muscle definition was striking beneath her black tank

top. She had long black hair that I could see spread out

behind her waist and her green eyes looked at me with a

strange kind of calmness that would have given me chills

if I wasn't scared to death.

"Jeremy killed himself," she said. "We only bring in

men who have something to lose. Unfortunately, as we

learned later, Jeremy had nothing."

"Eve Ramos," I said. "You're the Fury."

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Ramos laughed, her voice high-pitched, full of delight.

"The Fury," she said. "I always found such enjoyment in

that name. And to think how many people trembled at the

very sound of a person who might not even exist. I

suppose it works the same way with Satan and even Jesus.

Beholden to deities we will never know exist until the day

we die." Eve Ramos looked up at the ceiling. "I bet

Jeremy Robertson knows whether there is a devil."

"You manufacture this poison," I said. "I'm pretty sure

that if there is a devil, that puts you on an even keel with

him."

"Oh, Mr. Parker," Eve said as she crossed the room to

where I was standing. Then, moving faster than I knew

possible, she had gripped my throat in her hand and said,

"Who's to say the devil is a man?"

She then pushed me backward. I coughed once, but

stared her down.

"You killed my brother," I said. "Just like you're responsible for about a dozen more deaths from this drug."

"A dozen?" Ramos said. "Henry, you don't know the

half of it."

"So what do you want?" I said. "And where's my

friend?"

"Officer Sheffield is fine," she said. "Unfortunately, as

a police officer, we cannot simply dispose of your friend

until we can be certain it is done in a way that is, shall

we say, less than incriminating."

"And me? Why am I here?"

"Henry, you came to us, remember?"

"Why am I alive?"

"You're alive because you have use to me. Before you

die, you have a chance to do one last noble deed. And then

when the time comes to meet your maker, you can be sure

it will be the right one."

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345

"I don't understand," I said.

"Please," Ramos said. "Sit."

I didn't move.

"Fine. You'll be sitting enough anyway." She went to

the head of the table, pulled out a leather chair and lay

back, propping her feet up on the table. She was wearing

dark boots, dirty and worn. This was not a woman who

preferred high heels. "You are a newspaperman. I take it

you know much about our product from the reporting of

Ms. Paulina Cole."

"I read her article," I said. "And I know how you got

her to write it."

"See," she said, smiling. "I knew you were a bright

young man. There's no way Ms. Cole could have had

access to that information without anybody else knowing

about it. Yes, we fed it to Ms. Cole. And now you are

going to write another article for your newspaper. And

once that is done, you can leave this world in peace,

knowing you've kept your loved ones from harm's way."

"My loved ones?"

Eve took her feet down, leaned forward. "You came

to my attention right after your brother, Mr. Gaines, was

killed. How fortunate for us that another man was accused

of his murder, that was an unexpected bonus. But when

you figured out who pulled the trigger, we needed a way

to keep you in check. It is part of my job to learn about

people. Their families, backgrounds, careers, loved ones.

I know you have barely seen your parents in ten years. I

know you have little family or friends. But you do have

a woman who holds your heart. So piercing her would

pierce you." She smiled. "So to speak."

"My brother," I said. "You were behind it. You killed

him."

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"Guilty," she said. "When you run an organization, the

buck stops with you. When your brother learned about our

plans to diversify our product, he objected. In my line of

business you cannot have employees questioning decisions, or threatening to divulge company secrets. He came

to you, and that's when I decided he had to be dealt with."

"Dealt with," I said. "That's a pleasant term for coldblooded murder."

"Nothing around here happens without my say-so,"

Ramos said. "And if you do not write this for me, I will

take your woman, Amanda, and I will make her scream

so loud that even if you do make it to heaven, Henry, her

cries will pierce the ears of God himself. I will grind her

bones to paste, and coat the walls of this room with her

blood. And I will make sure you are alive when all of it

takes place. And only when you have no screams left to

offer will you join her."

I sat there, my whole body cold. Amanda.

"You see, when I kill a person, their death must not be

in vain. It must represent something. Your brother's death

was a sign that even our highest-earning lieutenants were

not invulnerable. Kenneth Tsang's death was a warning to

new employees as to what could happen if you weren't

trustworthy. Brett Kaiser's death showed that we can reach

anybody, anywhere. To me, blood and bone are like paint

and a brush. With the right artistry, one can create a work

of art that speaks to people. Your family, Henry, would be

a message that our reach does not stop within our organization, but that we can touch even the smallest, most insignificant lives."

"You wouldn't..."

"I wouldn't?" Ramos said. "Your mother and father

live in Bend, Oregon, on a sunny little street called East-
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view Drive. I can have a man there tonight. Your parents

could be dead before the evening news. Your parents are

insignificant, which is why their deaths would be all the

more glorious."

"You're a monster."

"I'm only a monster because this involves you, Henry.

How many monsters do you see, day in and day out, in

your line of work? Proximity heightens emotions.

Things could be different. You could have been down on

your luck, penniless, and come to work for me. And

then, like so many of these young men, you would have

understood."

"I don't know anything besides what Paulina wrote,"

I said. "There's nothing more to the story."

"That's not true," she said. "You've been quite an

explorer. Tell me what you know."

I looked up at her, and if looks could kill Eve Ramos

would have been dead several times over. "I know that you

and Rex Malloy were in Panama together, and that your

troop was attacked and Chester Malloy was killed. I also

know that it was in Panama that you learned how to synthesize Darkness, and you managed to smuggle it back to

America. I know that all your drug mules are young men,

and you're using their debts to get them to work for you."

"Great thing about those young men," Eve said, "is

that they have something to lose. You see, when a man

has pride, he will do things he knows are wrong to prove

his worth. These men were born with nothing, but worked

their way into high-paying jobs. When those lives were

taken away, that ambition, that pride, left a gaping hole.

I simply offer to fill that hole. I will not use men from the

slums, poor urban souls who have nothing to lose.

Dealers are nothing more than hungry animals. You feed

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them, throw them an extra bone here or there, they'll do

anything for you."

"Even die for you."

"Not by choice, but yes."

"Why 718 Enterprises?" I asked.

"Ha! That's simple, Henry. I was born in Queens."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

There was a knock at the door behind Ramos. She

went and opened it. A man stood there. He was wearing

a suit, brown hair neatly combed. And he was holding a

legal pad and pen.

"Leonard, come in," she said. "Meet Henry Parker."

"Mr. Parker, it's a pleasure." He didn't offer a hand.

Just as well.

"Leonard Reeves," I said. He looked at Ramos with

evident discomfort.

"How much does he know?"

Eve chuckled softly. "Apparently more than I thought."

"Leonard Reeves," I said again. "Graduated from

Princeton in 1993. Former executive at Morgan Stanley,

and liaison to the Department of Finance."

I watched as Reeves's eyes widened, rage drumming

up inside of him.

"How do you--"

"Which leads me to this question," I said. "How much

is Eve Ramos paying you to sell out our government?"

Now it was Ramos who couldn't contain herself,

laughing hysterically. Reeves looked at her. His rage

seemed to subside as he saw how unperturbed she was by

my knowledge.

"Henry, you have this all wrong," she said. "We're not

selling out the government. Hell, we're working for them."

48

"Working for them," I said. "You mean the city is

making money off of you. That's why I found a money

order made out to Morgan Isaacs for fifty grand from

Leonard Reeves. Reeves works for 718. You set your

drug cartel up as a legit business, and the government is

making millions of dollars in taxes off of dead people and

blood money."

"Millions right now, maybe. Soon it'll be hundreds of

millions," Ramos said. "And once the Darkness spreads

to other metropolitan areas--Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago--it'll be in the billions."

"How can they let this happen?" I said. "Don't they

know these drugs are killing people? Don't they know

who you are?"

"Know who I am?" Eve said. "Not only do they know

who I am...they're the reason I'm here."

"Panama," I said. "The Hard Chargers--you were

one of them?"

"Yes and no. I certainly did my share of hell-raising

down there. Nothing helps sell a war like violence against

our troops. But those bastards weren't supposed to kill

me. And it's their fault Chester died."

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"Hollinsworth said you found a way to synthesize

Darkness," I said. "So why would the government still

work with you if you stole this from Noriega?"

"Oh, they didn't know," she said. "In fact, they trusted

me so much that when the CIA-backed cartels in the

eighties got out of hand, guess who they put in charge to

oversee things?"

"That's why you're the Fury," I said. "They installed

you as a watchdog because their money was at stake. With

you there, they could make sure the money was going to

fund the Contras."

"Yeah, but that stopped being fun after a while. Why

be a watchdog when you can be the top dog? Those

cartels made billions, but the leadership had more balls

than they had brains. They were more than happy to let

someone take over who could handle distribution on a nationwide basis. Unfortunately word got out and that

reporter Webb found out about it. The CIA tried to pull

the plug. But when you're running a covert operation,

pulling the plug doesn't mean ending things so much as

pretending they never happened."

I said, "So they left you in charge of the largest drug

cartel in North America."

"Your tax dollars at work. And Mr. Reeves here was

kind enough to set up a deal where not only could we work

in peace, but we'd benefit the city of New York as well.

Thousands of federal employees laid off due to a lack of

funds, and that's exactly what we're giving them back."

"Makhoulian," I said. "He was the mole in the NYPD.

He knew everything we were doing."

"More or less. I am a little surprised by how persistent

you are, Henry."

"So why this?" I said. "Why now?"

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351

"Well, the truth is we weren't able to perfect the

mixture until recently. But if you believe in fate--like I

do--then everything came together for a reason. Look at