Do Not Go Gentle (38 page)

“Sure, but I've got no way to prove it.”

“Who needs proof?” Louie scoffed. “Lemme talk to some of my former associates and we can take care of the matter.”

“I wish it were that easy,” Jamie replied, “but we can't go charging in there without knowing exactly what we're up against.”

“Why not?” Louie's face clouded at Jamie's resistance.

“Because that's what Cal did, and it got him killed. Do you have any idea what we'll find inside Sedecla's townhouse? Any idea how we stop whatever it is she's up to? What if she really does have some kind of supernatural powers? Guns aren't gonna help in that case.” Jamie looked at his three partners. No one had any answers to his questions. “Okay then—we do this just like I would conduct a police investigation.”

Louie shivered. “That makes me nervous, Mick.”

“Keep calling me that, Aloysius, and I'll make you go talk to Hamilton down at the station.” Louie muttered under his breath, but said nothing. “Okay then—let's start with you, big man. What did you find out from your old associates?”

The former mobster picked up a black portfolio sitting on the floor by his cane and opened it. “Well, I got good news, and I got bad news. The good news is, I got us some leads on her criminal operations.”

“The Mazzimah?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, that's it. I've managed to put names and faces on several of the lower level guys, but the top guy is still a mystery.”

“Interesting. Why's he so elusive?” Daphné wondered aloud.

Louie shrugged. “I dunno. The only tidbit I got is that he may be a cop.”

“A cop?” Jamie asked, shaking his head. “I guess that shouldn't surprise me, but how reliable is your tidbit that he's a cop? I don't want to be chasing shadows.”

“It's from a guy that Cal used as a snitch too. Name of Peeper.”

Jamie snorted. “He's practically worthless.”

“True,” Louie agreed, “but he confirmed that he told Cal about the encounter Peeper had with a member of the Mazzimah and that Cal had planned to take a look inside Sedecla's headquarters.”

“Okay, I'll buy that,” Jamie admitted. “It's nothing that would hold up in court, but I buy it. Where did Peeper supposedly learn that the top guy in Mazzimah is a cop?”

“Well, Peeper's a low-life little scum ball, but that actually works in his favor. Peeper is about as threatening as that coffee cup,” Louie gestured. “So people typically don't notice him, and the little shit's great at eavesdropping.” Jamie made a move-it-along gesture. “Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist.” Daphné snickered, and Jamie glared at both her and Louie. “So after I told Peeper to find out anything he could about these guys, Peeper kept his ears open at that strip club he hangs out at.”

“Which club?” Jamie asked.

“King Arthur's in Chelsea.”

“Oh man, that's a skuzzy dive,” Jamie replied.

“Anyway,” Louie continued. “Peeper spots the same guy from before, sitting over in a booth with another guy. So Peeper slides to the next booth and overhears Peeper's first contact ask the other guy if he can talk to some boss. From what I can tell, he was talking about the head of the Mazzimah.” Louie looked down at his notes. “According to Peeper, the other guy says, and I quote, ‘Nah, I'll update him at roll call tomorrow morning.'”

Jamie looked thoughtfully at Louie. “Okay, but cops aren't the only ones who have a morning roll call.”

“True enough,” Louie agreed, “but when the two guys got up to leave, Peeper recognized the new dude as a cop, and Peeper could see the guy was carrying. So I think that lets out pretty much everyone besides cops.”

Jamie sighed. “Okay. Like I said before, I'm not surprised. Everyone knows we've got dirty cops, no matter how hard internal affairs tries to root them out. Did you get good descriptions from Peeper?”

“Yeah,” Louie said, and passed the notebook to Jamie.

After studying it for a moment, Jamie shook his head. “Could be a number of guys.” Then he turned to Daphné and Darcelle. “You ladies feel like doing some more surveillance?”

“If you think we're goin'
into
that shithole—” Darcelle began.

“No, no,” Jamie held up both hands. “I don't expect you to go inside—I think you'd be a little too conspicuous. I doubt they have too many women patrons.”

“You'd be surprised,” Louie said with a gravelly chuckle as he smiled, wrinkling the ruined contours of his face.

“So what are you two gonna be doing while we go slumming?” Daphné asked.

Jamie thought for a moment, and then said, “Well, I was thinking about taking Louie to visit Luiseach again. We need to know more about how we can fight this woman, especially if she really does have supernatural powers.”

“Me?” Louie asked in genuine surprise. “Listen, Mick, I helped you out as a favor. I ain't gonna make a career of being your gofer.”

“Gofer?” Jamie replied, surprise mixed with anger in his tone. “I asked you for some help, just like the girls here.”

“
Girls
, Unc?” Darcelle asked pointedly.

“Okay, okay:
young women
,” Jamie hastily amended, “but my point is, I'm not forcing anyone to do this—you all agreed to work on this with me for a share of the reward money.”

“Reward money?” Eileen asked. “What reward money?”

“Cal's family put up fifty thousand dollars for whoever finds his murderer,” Jamie explained. “Last time we met, we agreed to split the money four ways if we succeed.”

“Well,” Louie growled. “Some of us didn't agree—we was bludgeoned into accepting those terms.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jamie said wearily. “Young ladies,” he continued. “What do you have to report?”

“Nothing, uncle,” Darcelle admitted glumly. “It looks like Sedecla has her guys laying low.”

“There have been people going in an out occasionally,” Daphné amended, “but no one has led us anywhere that might be useful. No more white vans either.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah, that's a dead end, too. The van was registered to the Disciples, but their public leader, Achan ibn Ezra, reported the van stolen just after it dumped Riona. The cops found the van, abandoned and trashed, near the Winter Hill Yacht Club.”

“So that lets them off the hook for Riona, hunh?” Louie asked.

“Afraid so,” Jamie replied. “We all know they took her, but we can't prove it.”

“She's a slippery broad alright,” Louie agreed.

“Did you just use the word ‘broad'?” Daphné asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“Yeah, I did,” Louie replied unfazed. “I also say ‘babe', ‘honey,' and ‘toots.'”

“You'll only call me that once,” Daphné replied darkly.

“Children,” Jamie interrupted. “Don't make me come over there.” Louie and Daphné stared at each other for a moment longer, then looked back to Jamie, both muttering under their breath. “I think we're just about finished here,” Jamie concluded. Everyone stood, Jamie with Eileen's help.

“So when are we going to visit this witch woman?” Louie asked.

“She called a
seanchaidhe
,” Jamie corrected, “and it's not going to be today. I'm bushed. How about we take a trip tomorrow, big man?”

Louie shrugged. “Fine by me, as long as you're driving.”

Jamie looked at Eileen, who primly replied, “We'll pick you up after lunch, Louie.”

“We?” Jamie asked.

“We,” Eileen replied firmly. “I can't exactly open shop in a smoking ruin, now can I? I'll schedule my lessons around any trips you need to make. So until I'm back to work, boyo, you can just consider me your ‘Girl Friday.'”

“Ah, love, you're my girl seven days a week.”

“Aren't you just the sweetest man?” Eileen said, giving Jamie a kiss.

Daphné rolled her eyes, and Darcelle made a noise like she was hacking up a hairball.

Eileen looked at the girls coolly. “Ladies, you
really
don't want
me
coming over there.”

Daphné looked at her watch. “My. Look at the time.” The twins stood.

“Much better,” Eileen replied. “Everyone ready to be ferried back to the T station?”

After the group had gathered themselves and bustled out the door, Jamie plopped back down on the sectional beside the dog, who managed a mediocre tail thump in greeting. “Lazy bum,” Jamie muttered, then lay down, intending only to close his eyes and rest for a moment.

* * * *

Jamie awoke to inky darkness, torrents of rain drenching him as he stood in a deserted alley, littered with the detritus of urban life
.
Trash lined both sides of the grimy brick walls. Oily pools of noisome water dotted the cracked and broken pavement like a demented chessboard. Battered and dented trashcans and dumpsters stood like mute soldiers forming an obscene gauntlet, and rotting garbage, cigarette butts, broken bottles, plastic cups, and scraps of crumpled paper scattered along the length of the alley. Jamie smelled a disgusting mélange of stale cigarette smoke, rancid cooking oil, feces, urine, and musty alcohol.

As Jamie took in his surroundings, he heard a gunshot behind him, from the far end of the alley. Turning and drawing his gun in one motion, Jamie caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark shape running away from a form lying on the ground. Jamie ran to the form, and pausing, saw Cal Cushing, dead, a gaping gunshot wound in his chest and a huge pool of blood seeping around his shriveled body. Looking up, Jamie saw the dark shape turning another corner just ahead of him, so he jumped up from Cal's side and gave chase.

Feeling like he was no longer ill, Jamie gained ground on the culprit, only to hear an ear-splitting crash and see another form crumple to the ground. To his horror, Jamie saw Riona, her head shattered. Fear and anger clutching his chest, Jamie slowed slightly and continued his chase. When he grew close to the form, Jamie saw it flick something from its hand, spinning lazily toward a building, and then exploded. Running through the debris, Jamie saw the torn and twisted corpse of Eileen in the rubble. Despite the cry of despair that wrenched from the depths of his body, Jamie kept running, kept chasing, and began firing, in vain, at the dark shape fleeing before him.

When Jamie turned yet another corner, he skidded to a halt. Jamie faced a blank wall, but the dark shape was gone. At the sound of something scraping along the pavement, Jamie whirled, bringing up his arm only to realize that he no longer had his gun. He no longer had any weapon, and the dark shape was slowly advancing toward him down the dead end alley. Jamie looked around, but there were no fire escapes within reach, no boxes, or dumpsters to climb up to attempt an escape. He was trapped and weaponless against an unknown foe. After approaching to ten feet, the shape stopped. Jamie could still see nothing but an amorphous blackness, shot through with blood-red and dark brown streaks, with veins of silver and gold pulsing throughout and with ebony extrusions reaching toward him. Jamie felt waves of menace rolling off the shape like an incoming tide, slapping coldly at his face.

Finally, after several seconds of this standoff, Jamie launched himself forward at the same instant as the dark shape attacked. Flailing at the shape, Jamie felt like he was striking viscous slime, and pain lanced through him with each blow. Jamie felt waves of pain wash over him
—
the pain of Cal's death, of Riona and Eileen's deaths, the threat to the rest of his family, and pain at the loss of his own life. Nonetheless, Jamie fought his way into the core of the darkness, and there, he saw Sedecla, spewing out the darkness as a spider spins her web. Jamie lunged forward, and the witch clawed at him, raking bloody furrows in his body. Jamie felt his lifeblood seeping out of him and knew that he was fighting a losing battle. I can't fight her alone, he realized. I can't fight her alone. Jamie continued to struggle, thrashing about and kicking, but he felt his life trickling away drop by drop, inch by inch
—

* * * *

“Jamie. Jamie.” Jerking up from his nightmare, sweat pouring out of his body, Jamie saw Eileen, concern lining her face as she held him by the shoulders. “You were having a nightmare, love.”

Jamie exhaled loudly, then relaxed and lay back down. “Boy, you can say that again.” Jamie slowed his ragged breathing and closed his eyes.

After several moments, Eileen spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jamie shook his head. “Sure, but you don't have to be a head doctor to understand it. I saw death and destruction for us all, with Sedecla, at the root of it. I was powerless to fight her, but I fought anyway, even though I knew that on my own it was a losing fight.” He sat up slowly, Eileen helping him.

“It may be understandable,” Eileen said, “but do you believe it?”