The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (37 page)

The Rook was about to
provide a list of files that he wanted to see when the distinctive
sound of footsteps moving stealthily up the stairs gave him pause.
The Rook knew from the look on Hansome’s face that the man wasn’t
expecting any company. He held a finger to his lips, indicating
that Hansome should remain quiet, and drew his pistol once
more.

The gun looked like a
common automatic but it was actually proof of The Rook’s remarkable
scientific acumen. The chamber had been specially modified so that
it could hold dozens of miniaturized bullets. It was whispered in
the Underworld that The Rook’s guns never ran out of bullets but
that wasn’t quite true – it was simply that each gun held so many
shells that few ever saw him reload. The small size of the bullets
said nothing about their power, however. Each one packed enough
punch to send a large man tumbling backward, meaning that he rarely
needed to hit a target more than once.

The Rook crept to the
bedroom door and grasped the handle with his free hand. He yanked
it open and came face-to-face with a man dressed all in black, save
for a crimson mask. The mask was carved of wood and painted with
vibrant red. It was a devil’s leering face, a tongue jutting forth
in a mockery of laughter. In the man’s right hand was a long,
curving dagger that gleamed in the light. The terrible sight was
made all the more terrifying because of the man’s great size: he
was a veritable bear.

The Rook squeezed the
trigger of his automatic, but the first blast went awry as the
devil-faced man swung out with his knife, forcing The Rook to back
away from the blow. The Rook was well versed in fighting but the
man he was now facing was quick and quite skilled in the use of a
blade. The Rook found himself ducking under another swipe of the
blade and then hurrying to throw up an arm to prevent another. The
sharp edge of the knife dug through flesh on the underside of The
Rook’s arm and blood began to drip onto the floor.

The Rook responded with a
karate chop to the stranger’s throat, causing the other man to
squawk in pain and stagger back. The Rook then grabbed hold of the
arm that held the dagger, applying enough pressure to the wrist
that the masked man dropped the knife.

"Who are you?" The Rook
demanded, driving an elbow into the side of the man’s
head.

"Call me Devil Face," the
man answered, using a peculiar high-pitched voice that was
obviously disguised. "And I’m not here for you. I just want the
faggoty man. Give him to me and I’ll let you live."

The Rook slammed a knee
into Devil Face’s midsection and for a moment, he thought he’d won
the day. The masked man appeared to nearly lose his footing and The
Rook made the mistake of letting up on his assault. It was then
that Devil Face reached down to his right ankle and freed a second
blade that he’d hidden in his sock. Devil Face sprang upward,
stabbing The Rook in the left shoulder. Devil Face pushed on, using
all his strength to slam the vigilante against the wall. The back
of The Rook’s head cracked against the wall and his vision began to
swim. He slid to the floor, his eyes fluttering. Over the throbbing
in his head, he heard the sounds of a scuffle, followed by a
piercing cry. The Rook struggled to rise but he found himself
unable to find his footing. He lost consciousness, the last sight
he saw being that of Devil Face dragging Hansome’s limp form out of
the room.

Chapter III

Assistance
Unlimited

Morgan Watts was a former
confidence man, a lackey for more crime bosses than he cared to
remember. But his life had taken a change for the better when he’d
met Lazarus Gray. He’d realized that the emptiness he’d carried
inside him for so long was his sense of morality. It was an empty
cup, waiting to be filled. And Lazarus Gray soaked it to
overflowing.

Morgan was seated in the
briefing room of Assistance Unlimited’s expansive headquarters. It
was an old hotel that had been retrofitted to their purposes but
some of the rooms retained the feeling of impermanence, as if no
one was truly meant to call this place home. It was a building
designed for fleeting visits.

Lazarus was standing in
front of a flannel board upon which photos of the various suspects,
along with the known victims of the killer, had been hung. "Morgan,
you said that Phillips was at home at the time of the
killing?"

"Apparently so. He returned
home after the party at Groseclose’s and found a car in front of
his house with a flat tire. He helped get them patched up – he even
produced the name and address of the man he helped."

"And you checked into
that?"

"I did. Mr. Thomas Murphy
of 1455 Hancock Street. Verifies everything Phillips said. Maybe a
little too perfectly, to be honest. They both remember every detail
in a way that doesn’t usually happen."

Eun Jiwon, the young Korean
member of the team, was seated between Morgan and Samantha. He
leaned forward, staring hard at his employer’s impassive face. "I
know Mr. Phillips, Chief. He’s a Grade A goon, just dressed up in a
business suit. I don’t know if he could kill a woman, but I know
he’s got a temper."

"You mean you knew him
before all this began?" Samantha asked.

Eun nodded. He was a
handsome young man but after an awkward initial series of
flirtations, Samantha had realized they weren’t really attracted to
each other. In fact, Eun didn’t care for women sexually at all,
though it took some time before he trusted everyone enough to
confirm that. "When I first moved to Sovereign with my parents,
they had to jump through hoops to get Phillips to sign off on the
permits they needed to build their store. It was pretty obvious
that he didn’t care for immigrants."

Lazarus turned to the
board, staring at the images of the men there: Groseclose, Davies,
Melvin, Phillips, and Hansome were all men highly respected in
their fields. He knew that sometimes respectability was just a
veneer that hid a sociopath’s true nature, but he found it hard to
believe any of these men were capable enough to have pulled off a
series of murders like this. In the case of Phillips, he hadn’t
even moved to the city when the first of them began.

"Whoever did this is
skilled with a blade," he said aloud, tapping his chin. "They also
know enough about police work to know how to cover their tracks,
washing away all the evidence that might implicate
them."

"I don’t think it’s
Hansome," Morgan stated. "The guy’s way too nervous to have pulled
this off. The guy folds under the least bit of
pressure."

"Funny thing to say about a
lawyer," Eun said. "They lie for a living, don’t they?"

"Not the good ones,"
Lazarus replied. "But I agree with Morgan. I think we can cross
Hansome off our list, at least in terms of being the killer.
Nothing in his background suggests that he would be capable of
this. Having said that, he might be still be involved as an
accomplice somehow."

"Well," Samantha said,
leaning forward with interest, "if it’s not Hansome and it’s not
Phillips – since he wasn’t in town when the murders began – that
only leaves a couple of them as suspects, especially if you still
believe that Max Davies isn’t one of them. We’re just left with
Melvin and Groseclose."

"That’s not quite
true."

All eyes turned to the
doorway, where The Rook stood, his body outlined in silhouette. He
moved into view, his blood splattered form drawing a gasp from
Samantha.

Eun moved around the table,
intending to attack this intruder, but Morgan caught him by the
sleeve. "Hold off," the older man warned. "I think I’ve heard of
this guy."

The Rook nodded at Morgan
before fixing his eyes on Lazarus. "Sorry for not knocking on my
way in."

"How did you get past our
locks and security devices?"

"What can I say? I’m
amazing." The Rook flashed a crooked grin. "But I wanted to let you
know that Hansome is missing. He was just kidnapped out from under
my nose by a masked man calling himself Devil Face. I’m willing to
bet that Devil Face is our killer… and he was far too fit and
youthful seeming to be either Groseclose or Melvin."

"Then we’re back to square
one," Samantha said with an air of disappointment.

"You’re forgetting about
Smithson," The Rook answered, sliding his weary form into one of
the spare seats at the table. "Young and fit, if I recall
correctly. Maybe he’s doing the dirty work on his employer’s
behalf. Or maybe he’s flying solo on this."

"Do you have any proof that
it’s Smithson?" Samantha inquired.

"No. He’s just the only one
not on that list." The Rook noticed that Eun remained tense and he
gave what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. "I’m not your
enemy. I’m here for the same reasons you are: to help the
innocent."

Eun sneered. "Only you
choose to do it while hiding behind a mask."

"I have reasons for hiding
my identity."

"All I know," Eun
continued, "is that you’re wanted on charges of murder, assault,
and resisting arrest." The young Korean glanced at Lazarus, his
entire body tense. "Tell me why we aren’t arresting him, Lazarus.
Please."

The Rook struck quickly,
spinning the legs of his chair so that his body was now turned
toward Eun. He drove the heel of one shoe hard into the younger
man’s stomach but Eun recovered quickly, having been trained in the
martial arts since childhood. He grabbed hold of The Rook’s ankle
and drove an elbow down hard against it, nearly shattering the
delicate bones.

The Rook gritted his teeth
but continued with his planned moves. He had anticipated Eun’s
reaction and knew that it was a gamble to expose his ankle to such
an attack, but it left Eun completely exposed up top. The Rook
reached into an inner pocket sewn into his jacket and produced a
small capsule that snapped open between his fingers. A fine brown
mist exploded into the air and The Rook leaned forward, blowing the
mist straight into Eun’s face. The Korean dropped his hold on the
vigilante’s foot and began coughing, his eyes watering so badly
that he was virtually blind.

By now, Morgan and Samantha
were on their feet. Morgan was reaching for his gun when The Rook
held up a hand. "I didn’t come here to fight. I can give Eun an
antidote for the dust I just sprayed him with – or he can wait an
hour for it to clear up on its own. I just wanted to show you that
there are multiple reasons for not trying to bring me
in."

Lazarus spoke up, having
made no move to interfere during this entire exchange. Though the
battle had taken only a few seconds, Lazarus was fast enough that
he could have intervened. "I assume reason number one is that
you’re innocent of all charges."

"I only kill people who
deserve it and who leave me no other choice." The Rook retrieved a
second capsule and shoved it into Eun’s hand. "Crack this open and
wave it under your eyes and nose," he directed.

Morgan, still glaring
daggers at The Rook, released his hold on his pistol, leaving it
holstered at his waist. "And what’s reason number two?"

"I would have thought that
would have been obvious," The Rook stated, a bit of arrogance
creeping into his voice. "None of you are capable of taking me
down."

Samantha crossed her arms
over her chest. "If you’re so high-and-mighty, why do you need us
at all, then? Is this Devil Face really so tough that you can’t
handle him yourself?"

The Rook hesitated before
lowering his shoulders. "I’m sorry. None of this is coming out the
way I’d intended. I really do try to help people: that’s why I’m
here in Sovereign and that’s why I went to visit Hansome earlier
tonight. I wanted access to the private files he held on his
clients. Like all of you, I assumed that one of the men whose names
were in that packet was the murderer. But I don’t think that’s the
case any longer. I can’t guarantee that it’s Smithson, but I think
it bears looking into."

Eun was blinking away tears
now, having regained the ability to see after using the second
capsule. "In a fair fight, I think I could take you," he
muttered.

"Maybe," The Rook said,
trying to make a peace offering. "But I’d rather not find
out."

Lazarus stepped around the
table, his eyes flicking toward the clock mounted on the wall. It
was late, nearing midnight, but he didn’t feel they had any time to
waste. "Morgan, I want you and Eun to pay a visit to Mr. Melvin.
I’m fairly certain that he’ll keep his secretary close to him at
all times so they should be in adjoining rooms at their hotel.
Samantha, please remain here to coordinate our efforts."

The Rook caught a nod from
Lazarus, who was heading toward the door. Falling into step
alongside the enigmatic founder of Assistance Unlimited, The Rook
lowered his voice and asked, "Where are
we
going?"

Lazarus led the masked man
toward an elevator at the end of the hall. "Our first stop will be
the medical lab downstairs. I don’t think your wounds warrant
calling in a physician but you need some patching up. It should
take no more than five minutes. I hate to waste even that amount of
time, but we may need to be at full strength."