The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (24 page)

The place in which Gray sat
was a former hotel located on Robeson Avenue. Three stories tall,
the building contained numerous offices, labs and meeting rooms, as
well as living quarters for the four members of the
squad.

Two of those members were
in the room with Gray now: Eun Jiwon, a Korean youth with dark hair
and angry eyes, stood with arms folded while Samantha Grace, a
stunning blonde with peaches-and-cream skin, sat perched on the
side of Gray’s desk, long legs crossed in front of her.

"What do you think, Chief?
Is this something we ought to look into?" Eun asked. Given the
expression on his face and the tension in his slender body, it was
obvious where his opinion on the matter lay.

Gray’s eyes flicked to Eun,
studying him before returning to the printed page. The headline of
The Sovereign Gazette was printed in bold type and Gray knew that
it was bound to sell quite a few copies:

THE AXEMAN STRIKES
AGAIN!

THREE LOVELY LADIES
TERRORIZED!

POLICE BAFFLED!

Accompanying the text was a
pen and ink drawing of a shadowy figure menacing an attractive
young woman in torn stockings and ripped blouse. Though the
artist’s name was not given, Gray assumed it was Howard Bloomberg,
who usually handled the paper’s political cartoons.

The article described, in
typically lurid fashion, how three young girls had left a
basketball game around 7:30 pm, intending to walk each other home.
Less than a mile from the arena, the three women (who were
described as "nubile" no less than four times over the course of
the article) experienced a tremendous shock when a man wearing a
thin mask over his face rushed them from a dark alleyway. The man
was brandishing a bloodstained axe, which he used to attack the
girls. There was no conversation on the part of the man and he
didn’t make any attempt to rob them. Two of the girls were left
with wounds to their hands, torsos and faces but the third was
killed via decapitation. As the paper made sure to point out, this
was the sixth murder at the hands of the so-called Axeman in the
last month. So far, the victims had included a wealthy banker and
his wife, a nine-year old boy and an elderly woman.

Gray set aside the
newspaper and stood up, pushing his hands into the front pockets of
his slacks. He was wearing a white shirt, a red tie and black
trousers. Leather gloves covered his hands, preventing him from
leaving fingerprints on anything that might become evidence.
"Business is slow otherwise, so I think we can spare the time to
investigate these attacks."

Samantha arched an eyebrow,
sensing that her employer was engaging in what – for him – was a
rare feat. He was making a joke.

Assistance Unlimited did
take on cases from the general public, charging only what their
customers could afford. But they were all wealthy enough that they
didn’t really need the money. The group did its work because it was
the right thing to do.

"I’ve found something
interesting about the Axeman, Chief," Samantha said. She patted a
small pile of papers that she’d brought with her to the meeting.
"There’s a lot of similarities to a series of attacks that took
place in New Orleans from May 1918 through October
1919."

Lazarus picked up the
papers and quickly looked through them. "Any chance that the same
man is behind both sets of attacks?"

"Possible. Nobody ever
caught the New Orleans killer. But maybe it’s a
copycat."

Gray devoured the
information in the press clippings, dissecting the articles and
filing the information into the steel trap that was his mind. The
Axeman of New Orleans had terrorized the city for nearly 18 months
but his identity was never uncovered and the attacks ended as
mysteriously as they began. The savagery and utter randomness of
the attacks understandably caused great panic. There were even
comparisons of the killer to the notorious Jack the Ripper, as the
Axeman (or something claiming to be him) wrote a series of taunting
letters to the newspapers hinting at his future crimes and claiming
to be a supernatural demon "from Hell."

"Curious," Gray murmured
under his breath. "Good work, Samantha."

The pretty blonde blushed
at the compliment and nodded. "So what’s our next step?"

Gray turned his face toward
a map of the city that took up a good portion of the wall. "There
doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the attacks and they’ve
been scattered throughout the city. The first thing we need to do
is speak to one of the survivors and find out all they can remember
about the Axeman. I don’t trust the police reports or the
journalists to have done their jobs accurately." He looked back at
his aides. "Samantha, please visit the hospital and speak to one,
if not both, of the girls who was attacked last evening. Eun,
you’ll come with me. I have a few leads of my own to follow up on.
When do we expect Morgan back?"

The corners of Samantha’s
mouth turned downward. It was one of the worst kept secrets in the
world that she and Morgan Watts had a hot-and-cold relationship.
Morgan had tried to steer their friendship toward a romantic one
but Samantha had rejected his advances, straining things between
them. Now they alternated between flirting and giving each other
the cold shoulder. Morgan’s decision to take out a young woman of
Samantha’s acquaintance on a date this evening hadn’t helped
matters but Eun was of the opinion that Morgan was simply trying to
make Samantha jealous. "Who knows?" Samantha asked, trying a bit
too hard to make it look like she didn’t care. "Should I call him
in?"

"Let him relax for now,"
Gray answered. The stoic leader of Assistance Unlimited reached
over and turned off one of the lamps that illuminated the room.
"Let’s go find us a killer."

***

The Heart of Fortune
was anchored three and a half miles off the coast of Sovereign
City. With a crew of 300 people and enough space to accommodate
another 2,000 in guests, the ship was a masterpiece of gaudy
elegance. Morgan Watts loved it and he could sense that his date
for the occasion, Molly Sims, was equally entranced. The gambling
ship was one of the most popular attractions in the city and
catered to the high rollers. Morgan earned a nice living working
for Assistance Unlimited and he didn’t have many expenses since he
lived at their headquarters, so splurging on a night like this was
well within his means.

Morgan held Molly’s hand as
they exited the dance floor, which was packed with partiers who
couldn’t get enough of Joe ‘Monarch’ Redfern and his orchestra.
Molly loved to dance but Morgan was eager to move on to other
pleasures. The siren call of the grand casino was luring him in
that direction but as he glanced at Molly, he caught sight of the
fine sheen of sweat on her bare shoulders and he realized he might
strike the jackpot in more ways than one tonight.

Molly was an attractive
girl with red hair, green eyes and a fine spray of freckles that
covered her cheeks. Her father was in real estate and was a good
friend of Samantha’s parents, which was how Morgan had ended up
becoming acquainted with her. "This is fun," Molly said between
gasps of air. She sat down heavily in her chair and grinned,
looking far younger than her twenty-five years of age. "I can’t
believe you’re not even breathing fast. How do you do
it?"

"Lazarus keeps us all in
tip-top shape," Morgan replied, sitting across from her and
gesturing for a waiter to bring them both a drink. "I do more
calisthenics than a fresh army recruit."

"Well, it certainly keeps
you trim," she said admiringly.

Morgan accepted the
compliment with a smile, reaching out to squeeze Molly’s knee with
his right hand. "Well, you make me feel a good ten years younger
than I actually am."

Molly looked up as the
waiter set a drink down in front of her. She took a sip, wincing a
bit as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. "I’m not going
to get you in trouble with Sam, am I?"

Morgan’s hand drifted away
from her knee. "What? Of course not. We’re just
friends."

"That’s what both of you
say but I’m not sure I believe it."

Morgan couldn’t quite hide
the eagerness in his voice. "Really? What’s she said about
me?"

Molly laughed gently. "Next
to nothing. That’s the point."

"I don’t get
it."

"You’re a man," Molly
pointed out. "You’re all a bit clueless when it comes to these
things."

Morgan replied with a
grunt. He couldn’t really argue what she was saying – when it came
to understanding women, he was in the same boat as most men in the
world: he couldn’t fathom what went on in their pretty little
heads. He was spared from having to admit such by a sudden
murmuring amongst the crowd. He craned his head to see whose
arrival was having such an effect. He saw two men pushing their way
out of the casino. One of them wore a tattered top hat, a
threadbare coat and vest and dark trousers. His skin was so dark
that it made his eyes and teeth look gleaming white in comparison.
He carried a gnarled walking stick in his left hand and muttering
angrily under his breath. He looked to be in his early fifties
though there was something about him that made Morgan wonder if he
wasn’t much older than that.

Trailing along behind was
one of the most massive brutes that Morgan had ever seen. The man
wore heavy work boots and overalls. A stained white shirt peeked
out from beneath the overalls and the man’s fingers were so filthy
that Morgan wondered if he’d washed them any time in the current
decade. The man had to be nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders so
broad that even Morgan, who had spent a lifetime around heavy
bruisers, was impressed. But it was the mask the man wore that
caused such a ripple through the crowd. It was wrapped around his
bald head with heavy leather straps, leaving a plastic covering
over his face. It was shaped like a human face, with a nose, curved
lips and gentle indentions around the two holes that allowed the
man’s eyes to peer out at the world.

"My gosh," Molly whispered.
"Why is he dressed like that?"

"I don’t know," Morgan
answered. "Could be that he’s disfigured and thinks that mask would
disturb people less than seeing what’s underneath."

Molly shivered. "I find
that hard to believe."

The two men came to a stop
not far from their table and the man in the top hat began to smile,
his eyes widening at the sight of Morgan. "Mr. Watts?" he asked,
speaking in an oily sort of voice. It reminded Morgan of a snake
oil salesman, about to launch into a pitch for his newest
product.

Morgan could feel Molly’s
gaze on him, wondering how he could possibly know these two men. He
wondered that himself. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"Perhaps you can. Yes,
perhaps you can, indeed." Without being asked, the man pulled out
an empty chair at the table and sat down in it. The masked brute
remained standing, though he came closer so that he stood directly
behind his friend. Morgan sniffed delicately, aware that the big
man stank to high heaven. The black man in the top hat didn’t seem
to notice. He swept the hat off his head and set it on the table
between Molly and Morgan. "You can call me Mr. Dinkins. The big
fella is named Muggsy."

"That’s an unusual name,"
Molly whispered, sliding closer to Morgan. She seemed to be begging
him with her eyes, pleading with him to ask Dinkins and his
companion to leave. Morgan sympathized but his curiosity wouldn’t
allow it.

"Nobody knows his real
name," Dinkins said. "He just showed up one day and we all took to
calling him Muggsy. It’s a joke, you see. Because his mug is so
damned ugly we have to make him wear a mask."

Morgan was growing
increasingly disturbed by the smell emanating from Muggsy. "I’m
actually here on a date so if you want to talk business, you either
need to make it fast or call Assistance Unlimited and make an
appointment."

"I apologize for having
interrupted," Dinkins said. "But I do think that my case might be
the sort of thing that you’d taken an interest in. You see, my
friend and I traveled all the way from New Orleans. We’re looking
for a young woman, little more than a girl really, named Monique.
She took something that rightfully belongs to me and I don’t take
kindly to thieves, I can tell you that. In the weeks that Muggsy
and I have been here, we’ve heard that she’s been around but
haven’t been able to find her. So I said to Muggsy, let’s hire
Assistance Unlimited to help us. But I figured that your boss must
be an expensive fella so we came here to try and win us enough
money to make it worth his while."

"From the way you exited
the casino, I gather your plan didn’t work out?"

Dinkins drew an ugly face.
"The games are rigged," he said in disgust.

Morgan doubted that.
Everything he’d heard said that Fortune McCall ran as clean an
establishment as any in the country. "We don’t normally track down
thieves. Maybe you’d be better off going to the police. They’re
bound to be cheaper anyway."

"Ah, but this is no
ordinary theft." He began unbuttoning the vest that he wore under
his threadbare coat. When Molly shifted uncomfortably, he offered a
wan smile. "My apologies, my lady, but I have to show this so that
your paramour will understand." Once the vest was pulled away,
Morgan saw a bandage over the man’s heart. Blood had seeped through
the bandage and the medical tape used to hold it in place looked
like it was about to give way.