Precipice (9 page)

Lynch waited outside the room as his boss exited.

“Sir…if I may…?” He paused for a response before attempting further interaction. The last thing he wanted was to land himself in hot water after what happened inside that cell.

“Continue.” The boss blinked once and tilted his head in Lynch’s direction. The position reminded him of the way a tiger observes his helpless prey: vicious, yet curious and content to observe for a minute before pouncing.

“Sir…Grant was one of our best men…” he began as he swallowed a huge lump in his throat.

“Yes…he was,” the boss replied with a single, sharp nod.

The boss swept past Lynch and strode down the hallway. Lynch hurried to keep pace. He hesitated before making his next statement. Criticism in this business often wasn’t rewarded, constructive or otherwise. Swallowing that knowledge, he forged ahead, “Sir, why did you do that? We can’t afford the loss of a man of Grant’s skills.”

This statement brought their progress to a halt as his boss wheeled to face him. Lynch’s throat constricted as the air drained from his lungs. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he took a small step backwards, putting an extra foot of distance between them. Staring deep within him, penetrating through his very essence, were the feral eyes of an animal. Two icy black crystals of nothingness, behind which he discerned no soul.

Lynch took a few steps further in reverse until he bumped into the stone wall of the corridor. The face that gazed at him lacked discernible expression. It was a blank slate, unable to be read, yet wholly terrifying.

After the long, petrifying silence, the beast turned away. “He broke the rules. Killing Booth was unnecessary and cost us time and effort. Booth didn’t know enough, if anything. He was a pawn, but still one we might have persuaded to help us again in the future. Grant needed to be dealt with. Swiftly and harshly, to send a message.” The monster paused for a few seconds before continuing.

“‘Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.’ You know who said that?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Mahatma Gandhi.”

As he cocked his head, their eyes met again and a cold shudder snaked down Lynch’s already weakened spine. “Grant was given a job. He may have thought it insignificant, especially when things got difficult, so he slacked and improvised. But he needed to do it and he needed to do it right. He failed.”

Lynch didn’t dare move, spine plastered against the cold wall. He gulped, never taking his eyes off his boss. Nobody on the outside would ever understand, but moments like these reminded Lynch why he worked for such a man.

The power and confidence was equal parts intoxicating and terrifying. Death followed every one of them, a shadow ready to pounce, yet the vicariously shared power made them feel untouchable by anyone other than this beast. Displease him and your shadow overtook you, leaving nothing but a tiny, insignificant blot on the face of the Earth, soon forgotten, immediately replaced. But please him and immortality felt within reach. Stick with him and rise above the laws of both men and God.

“It was not without regret that Grant died.” The boss continued. “He was a good instrument, a strong spoke in the wheel. But his time was up. The strong beam became weak and dislodged from its place in our wheel. Broken spokes, once fractured, can never be fully repaired. They may be patched or reset, but they won’t hold their former strength and soon break again. They must be replaced.”

He spun and again began his walk down the corridor, leaving Lynch in silent shock at the dismissal of a “friend” and coworker. Not that the boss had any friends; that ship sailed long ago. But even the most callous of bosses recognized the value of certain men over others. This man harbored no emotion, no feelings, nothing for this once valuable company-man, treating him as an asset gone bad with time.

Lynch swiveled his head to watch the man walk down the corridor, but froze again as the boss paused and spun back, his black eyes flashing with the reflection of the lonely light bulb above. Their eyes locked again; an upward turning of the lips and a raised eyebrow accompanied the utter blackness. The man opened his lips ever so slightly, creating the appearance of a slit.

“Question me again, Lynch, and you’ll be sharing a seat with Grant on Charon’s ferry.” Another pause. “Just remember what you said. This was one of our best men. Imagine what might happen if a…” He paused and his speech slowed to a crawling hiss, “…lesser man…made a mistake…”

A final second of that penetrating gaze bore holes through Lynch. Then he turned away and continued down the hallway, veering left and disappearing. Lynch remained immobilized for another minute, too terrified to take a breath, before collapsing to the ground, gasping for air.

Moments like these left him too scared to run. Your shadow will always find you.

***

              Will awoke from his trance shaking and huddled against the wall, his face wet with tears. Rising to his feet proved difficult, his entire body trembling. He shook his head and blinked furiously, trying to shake away the mental image of his wife dying in his arms, but he could not. It lingered in front of him like an afterimage burned into an old television screen.

              It took several minutes before he managed to stagger upright. His senses shaken, he hesitantly glanced around the room again. The pool of blood that sent him swirling down nightmare alley seeped further into the living area.

              Will stumbled through the doorway into the next room, and forced himself to keep his eyes faced straight ahead at the blank, white wall rather than toward the body of Mr. Booth, strewn before him on the ground.

The back room he entered caused Will, for a split second, to wonder if he was hallucinating. Whitewashed walls, high tech equipment, and an array of buttons and dials like this belonged in the Pentagon, not in a rundown, civilian’s home. Everything in this laboratory screamed cleanliness, which highlighted the contrast with the gore from the outer room.

He glanced around. Someone had ransacked the place. Drawers hung open, files scattered across the floor. He bent down to glance at a few, but the papers were a wild mess, with many missing and the rest scattered out of order: 48, 23, 15, 42, 16. No rhyme or reason. Nothing that remained was even salvageable.
This is hopeless.

Careful not to touch anything, he turned to leave, but this time he couldn’t keep his eyesight from landing on the body. He cringed.

Edward Booth had been a handsome man. Roughly Artie’s age, he was bald, save for a few wisps of white-orange hair around the ears. Bruises and cuts marred his face. Blood soaked into his clothing and, through the rips in his shirt, Will spotted deep gashes on the body. His eyelids were closed, possibly by his killer who didn’t desire to see lifeless orbs gazing back at him. It created a strangely peaceful appearance amid the vicious setting.

Then a sudden noise broke the silence. Will froze, his every muscle locked into place. A faint jangling of keys came from outside the door. Will had forgotten to lock the front door behind him and he cursed himself for that gaffe now. Not only would the visitor be alerted to his presence, an unlocked door allowed him less time to hide or escape.

He watched the doorknob rattle and rotate, as the visitor absorbed the knowledge that a key was unnecessary. The person on the other side of the door paused before entering, but Will’s legs stubbornly refused to listen to the brain’s desperate pleas for flight.

The door swung open with a soft, elongated squeak. “Hello?” A woman’s voice reverberated throughout the room. “Daddy, are you here?”

Mr. Booth’s daughter, the girl from the photo. She was about to catch Will looming over the body of her murdered father. But he lacked the necessary willpower to react. Any attempt to flee at this point would exacerbate the situation. The only exit was through the same doorway she now occupied.

She edged inside, but it took her a few seconds to scan the room before she spotted him. She was even more attractive than her photo. The years since that picture was taken had been very kind to her. She possessed a polished aura of refinement and elegance. Sunlight streamed in from outside highlighted her red locks, giving the impression her hair was glowing.

From her location, her father’s body was out of her sightline, but at the sight of a stranger alone in that house, she let out a small yelp. “Who are you? Where’s my dad?”

Will stumbled over his words, “I’m -- My name is William Ricketts…a friend…I’m so sorry…I just got here…” He gulped, strongly aware of her piercing gaze. Her recovered from her initial shock and now wore a look of skepticism and defiance. “I’m so sorry…I found him like this when I got here a few minutes ago…”

His shaking hand gestured to the body at his feet—still out of sight for her—and she crept closer. As soon as she spotted her father lying still on the ground, the look of shock and horror returned and she let out a much louder scream.

“NOOO! What did you do?!”

“I swear! I just got here. I found him like this.” Will desperately scrambled for the right words, but as he stammered, she charged toward him. He cowered in the doorway. Bracing himself for impact, he closed his eyes, but only felt a slight bump as she brushed past him. She fell at her father’s side, her jeans sliding through the blood as her knees hit the floor.

Will struggled with his own emotions as he witnessed her pain, too much like his own reaction when he discovered Allison. A small tear materialized at the corner of his eye, slid over his cheek, ran down his chin, and dripped off, hitting his shoe with a tiny, noiseless splat.

Continuing to bawl, she peeked up at Will. “What happened to him?”

“I -- I --” Will stuttered as he frantically searched for words of consolation. “I don’t know. I just got here.”

Turning toward the body again, she bent over him, laying her head gently on his chest. Tears poured out in a torrent, and her body heaved violently with every sob. “Lord, no…”

Will felt inept at dealing with distressed girls, especially when tears were involved. He wanted to console her, but had no clue how to go about it. She was already suspicious of him—with good reason—so he decided to give her some space. Still, leaving her here alone was a bad, and possibly dangerous, idea.

              He crouched in the corner, far enough to provide some breathing room, but just within view so she could tell he wasn’t running. For his own safety, he couldn’t stay long. He needed to keep moving. But abandoning this poor girl, huddled over the body of her murdered father, was out of the question. Leaving now would make him look even guiltier than he already did, but he also remembered his acute desire for companionship and support when he discovered Allie.

              With the walls at his back, an eye glued to the door, and his ears perked and listening for any more unexpected—and unfriendly—visitors, he hunkered down and waited for her tears to subside.

It seemed an eternity later when Booth’s daughter ran out of tears. Without saying a word, she staggered to her feet before collapsing into an armchair in the front room. Not wanting to speak first, he slid into the adjacent chair. He couldn’t spare much time before needing to run again, but his male chivalry, instilled in him from childhood, still refused to let him leave a woman in need.

He didn’t need to wait long though. Only a few seconds after sitting, she broke the silence. “Who are you?”

“I’m….”
Excellent question.
He wasn’t sure how to explain his presence there, but after a pause, decided to go with the truth. “My name is Will. A mutual friend referred me here. Your father and mine attended school together many years ago.”

“Referred for what?”

“I needed his…services.” He blushed, feeling sheepish, and guilty.

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” she spat in defiance.

“With all due respect,” he said, taking time to choose his words. “That back room seems to imply otherwise.”

“He quit six months ago.” She shook her head vehemently.

“Do you know why?”

“He didn’t say much. Just that he was ashamed of something. He used his abilities to help some very bad men and felt guilty, so he shut down.”

“I know the feeling…” he commiserated as his voice trailed off. Edward Booth likely received the same raw deal he was now trying to escape.

The woman peered at him. She didn’t understand his empathy. She couldn’t. “Do you know who killed him?” she asked.

Will had a hunch, but he needed to be careful what he told her. “Probably the same men he stopped helping six months ago.” He paused. “The men who did this might return though. We need to get out of here.”

“Absolutely not! We can’t leave my dad.” She glared at Will, jaw open and eyes unblinking. “We need to call the police.”

“Trust me.” He shook his head. “We don’t want to be here if they return.”

Unconvinced, she turned to face him and boldly folded her arms across her chest. The glare aimed at Will was one of fiery daggers, daring him to keep talking.

Resigned, Will sighed heavily. “I believe the men who did this are the same ones who killed my wife a month ago. And now they’re after me too. I barely escaped yesterday.” She stared. That captured her attention. Common ground was established. He could work with that.

“A friend of the family told me your father might be able to help.”

She stared at him. “I’m sorry…” She seemed genuinely empathetic, at least for a moment. Then, a few gears clicked. “Wait…is that why they did this to him? So he couldn’t help you?”

It was the question Will had been afraid she might ask. He’d hoped she wouldn’t put that together so soon. “I honestly don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

He was still trying to answer that question himself. He couldn’t shed the unsettling feeling that somehow, this man’s fate was his fault. Will already suffered enough guilt about putting Art in harm’s way and he didn’t want to consider what that man might have done to Miles after he discovered Will’s disappearing act. Adding another death to his conscience was excruciating.

“All I know is, I can’t be here when they get back.” He frowned. “I’d recommend you aren’t either.”

“Shouldn’t I go to the police?”

“I doubt it’d do much good. I went straight to the cops after Allie’s death, but the men were never caught.” He shook his head. “The police were so incompetent, I wondered if they were somehow involved.”

Glancing at the clock, he did a double-take. He couldn’t afford to stay any longer. “Look, I’m really sorry about your loss. I truly am.” He strode to the door. “But I can’t stay here. I need to run. I’d recommend you do the same.”

She made no motion to join his retreat. He waited a few more seconds, said a hasty goodbye, and left.

***

“I just don’t understand why God would let this happen to him,” she whispered, but Will was already gone. He’d left her sitting by herself in the house, unsure what to do. She waited a full minute before rising to her feet.

Returning to her father’s side, she knelt once more, sliding her hand into his, doing her best to ignore the beginning signs of a cold rigor. A lone tear gathered in the corner of her eye before sliding over her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Papa.” She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. Rising, she closed her eyes, whispered a brief prayer, turned from his body and walked out without looking back. She gathered her things in the next room and slipped out the door.

Will was standing, just outside the door. “I knew you’d change your mind,” he gave a thin smile.

“I knew you’d wait,” she snapped.

Will cocked an eyebrow at her before nodding. His gaze lingered on her face before he turned away and led her toward the forest.

“Let’s go.”

They’d traveled less than twenty feet when the sound of a souped-up engine roared into earshot, freezing them in their tracks. Will blanched. He spun around to see a weather-beaten truck turning into the long driveway.
They were here.

Grabbing his new friend by the arm, harder than he intended, he twirled her body toward him as he turned to run.

The torque was too much, however, and she whirled off-balance to the ground, landing face-first on the damp turf. Her fall knocked Will off kilter and he stumbled before catching a tree with his hand and righting himself. He turned to help, but before he took a step, the tree trunk to the left of his head exploded.

A shower of wood chips and shards rained down around him. He recoiled at the blast, tripping over his own feet from his sudden change in momentum. There was another detonation. A giant, gaping hole ripped into the tree on his right. As the vehicle skidded sideways to a stop, he caught a brief glimpse of a man leaning out of the passenger window, drawing a bead on him with a large rifle. Will didn’t wait to see if the third shot would be the charm.

His flight instinct took over and he spun on his heels to flee. Another blast of wood chips exploded behind him. The woods thickened quickly as he darted between trunks and the echoed blasts from the rifle fell silent. They wouldn’t waste more ammo firing at random into the dense woods. A rush of adrenaline pumped through his body at the sound of the rumbling engine and allowed him to cover ground quickly, but he didn’t get far before realizing his mistake.

The girl wasn’t with him.

Panicking, he doubled back toward the house. He inched closer, trying to catch a glimpse of either his pursuers or the girl. They must be studying the woods in the vicinity of where he disappeared, so he circled around. If the men spotted him, they’d need time to readjust their aim and he’d disappear before they fired off any shots. Trying to follow him would be useless. The woods were thick enough and he held enough of a head start that any pursuit would be futile.

Before he could spot his target, however, one of the men broke the silence.

“Will!” The hunter’s voice was deep and raspy, like a lifelong smoker’s. “I think you left something behind.” He chuckled, starting with a snort of strangled laughter, before shifting into a deep, throaty guffaw. The laugh had a sinister, grating quality to it, sending shivers down Will’s spine.

“I know you’re still there!” Another chuckle. “You wouldn’t abandon something
this
valuable.” This time, his friend joined in the laughter.

Will crept a few feet closer, at last catching sight of Booth’s daughter. He’d succeeded in circling around enough so that the men faced a spot thirty feet to his left. The first person Will spied was the girl, on her back, eyes wide and mouth agape, staring skyward in terror. She appeared to be mouthing a prayer and trying hard not to scream. Will followed her horrified gaze to the business end of a handgun, a few feet from her head. As he continued to follow her gaze up the silenced barrel of the pistol, he took in the rest of the scene. And cringed.

Two daunting men held their hostage captive. He didn’t recognize the behemoth standing to one side. Well over six feet, he must have weighed 300 pounds. He reminded Will of a professional wrestler, even down to the dirty-blond handlebar moustache on a face that looked like it had taken a nap on a bed of rocks. Long blond hair stuck out at awkward intervals from a beat-up baseball cap and huge, beefy arms strained to escape a dirty white t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. So large, he was almost cartoonish in his villainous form. Scars covered his bare arms. This was a man who had experienced violence in his life. The fierce, deadly stare suggested he was rarely the one on the receiving end of that brutality.

The other man, the one holding the silenced pistol in a gloved hand, was a different story. Will recognized him as the “agent” who visited his house. If he remembered correctly, this particular man called himself Sean Lynch. Not dressed as impeccably as during their last meeting, he still stood out next to his partner as refined and clean-cut. The large man was rough around the edges—and the edges weren’t the only rough parts—but Lynch was a smoother character.

Lynch called out this time. “What a fortunate coincidence to run into you here, William. We assumed you were long gone.” A menacing snicker. “You wouldn’t dare leave such a pretty jewel behind with my friend here. You remember what happened the last time you left someone in my custody, don’t you? His name was Curtis. Miles, right?”

Lynch’s sneer, a thin evil grin, caused an involuntary shudder down Will’s back. A solitary tear for his dear butler crept out of his eye, leaving a wet trail tracking down his cheek. “He was a better friend than most, I’ll admit that. But everyone breaks sooner or later.” A sinister chuckle broke through the man’s lips. “You know, he was the one who sent us to Dr. Adair.” Will shuddered again, trying to keep his composure.

“Dear Artie withstood our ‘methods’ long enough for us to lose your scent. He was tough and unafraid, but ultimately suffered and gave his life to save yours, with a meaningless prayer still on his lips. A martyr if you will. It’s too bad his sacrifice appears to have been in vain.”

Will choked down a growing lump and his hand moved to the cross necklace from Artie. His fingers fumbled over the small wooden ornament as the tears flowed. Viewing the scene from his position gave Will a difficult angle to see Lynch’s face, but he couldn’t miss the dark, menacing smile creeping across the man’s face, almost demonic in its manifestation.

“You know you can’t leave your girlfriend here with us….not after what happened to…” Lynch hesitated, as Will’s own breath nearly strangled him. “…to Allison.” Lynch sneered as the ogre beside him snickered.

Hearing the name of his beloved wife spoken from the lips of a demon sent surges of shock and anger throughout his body, paralyzing and weakening his muscles. Unable to stand, Will’s legs gave way and his knees sank into the leafy carpet below. Waves of nausea swept over him.

Deep down, this confirmed his theories about her death. But to hear it like this, openly boasted by her killer, was too much. Arms and legs shaking, Will fought off his blurred vision to stabilize himself against the tree trunk, taking care to remain out of sight.

His mind raced through limited options. Surrendering was out of the question. Handing himself over would be a death sentence for both him and the girl. While his own life was becoming less and less valuable to himself, he wouldn’t put her life at any further risk. She was an innocent, caught in the crosshairs of a battle she never chose, like Allie. Keeping this girl alive, however, gave the men a bargaining chip to use with Will. They wouldn’t let her die. Not yet.

Lynch goaded him again. “Why don’t you come out of there Will? Your
girlfriend
needs your help.” Will clawed his way to his feet and edged further into the woods, hoping they’d be unable to pinpoint his location when he responded. Lynch continued, “If you come out now, maybe we can discuss this like men. Maybe we can work something out.”

Will steeled himself, settling his breathing and trying to calm his rattled nerves.

“Be a man, Will! Don’t be a coward. Come on out and save your girl.”

Will took one final deep breath before exhaling in a loud shout. “Let her go, Sean!”

Lynch and his monster-sized friend spun toward Will’s voice, not expecting it to come from their left. “That’s better, Will.” The gorilla traipsed toward the edge of the woods in Will’s direction, the sound of his heavy boots making him easy to track.

“I’m not stupid, Lynch. I already escaped you once. I walk out now and you’ll kill us both.”

“Oh, Will. After all we’ve been through, don’t you trust me? I always keep my promises.” The giant stomped along the tree line, trying to peer through the branches. “And right now, I say that if you don’t come out, your lady friend here dies.”

Will remained silent. He struggled to devise a solution that would result in Booth’s daughter walking away unscathed, but couldn’t think of anything. Surrendering was suicide. All he could do was call their bluff. And hope it was a bluff.

“Do it! I don’t even know the girl.” He choked on the lump in his throat as he challenged them. These men were capable of murder, but she wasn’t their ultimate target. He was, and if they believed she was inconsequential to him, they might send her on her way. Or they might just decide to kill her. It was a long shot, but no other options presented themselves.