Shrouds of Darkness (30 page)

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Authors: Brock Deskins

BOOK: Shrouds of Darkness
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“Oh good, you’ve heard of me. That will save me the time of convincing you of the sincerity of any threats of grievous bodily injury I will make if you are anything less than completely forthright.”

“Wh-what do you want with me? I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t had a full feeding in almost two months and I am always very clean.”

“I’m not concerned with your feeding habits. I’m not a Sheriff anymore and you aren’t in my ward. Please have a seat and try to relax. Panic is terrible for the memory. I also don’t want you to try and run for it. I get really unpleasant if I have to chase people.”

Sandra takes a seat on a matching love seat, sits straight upright and places her hands on her lap. “I can’t imagine why else you’re here for me.”

“Really? The level of your anxiety says otherwise.”

“There have been some rumors.”

I arch my eyebrows in interest. “Rumors? I love a good rumor, especially ones about me. It lets me feel like I’m still relevant.”

Sandra nervously licks her lips before answering. “People are saying you have been killing a lot of vampires lately, that you are going rogue again.”

“I see. Well let me put that rumor to rest. I have indeed killed a lot of vampires lately, probably a dozen or so in just the last few nights. Hell, I killed one just before coming over here to see you. But I assure you, they all had it coming.”

“Why is that?”

“They irritated me. Tell me what you know about the Cure.”

“Not much. I’m afraid I’m not much of a fan of their music,” she answers with forced levity.

“Dr. Johnston now is not the time to be cute.”

She quickly loses her smile and nods. “I assume you know what it is. It’s contained in our lab under strict security and if you want me to get it for you, you will have to kill me. I will die before I ever let it out on the streets.”

Sandra is suddenly looking less appealing as a suspect. “Your access badge is considered a sensitive item, correct, meaning that it is treated as an accountable security item?”

“Yes of course. All access badges must be accounted for at all times and reported as missing immediately so the card can be invalidated so it cannot be used.”

“When did you notice yours was missing?”

The doctor looked very uneasy again. “What do you mean? I have my badge.”

“Six weeks ago you lost accountability of your card. How long was it missing and how did you end up recovering it?”

“How do you know that?” she asks me.

“Roughly six weeks ago your card was used to access the secure storage system that housed the Cure. I no longer think you are the one that took it, so someone else had your card, which means at some point it was missing.”

Sandra lets out a long sigh and answers. “It was gone for less than an hour. I noticed that it wasn’t on my lab coat so I searched frantically for it. I found it in my locker. It had fallen behind some of my books and papers. I did not think it was a big deal, not enough for me to report it missing and get a mark on my record. Is it that important?”

“Not to me but that bit of information may have saved your life. What if I told you the Cure is already out on the streets?”

“No, that’s not possible. Only three people have direct access to it and only five even have access to the level four bio ward. It’s inventoried twice a month and I personally checked it last week.”

“Did you actually examine the contents or has it become so routine that you simply saw the container and assumed that what was inside was the Cure?” I ask being no stranger to shortcuts in routine actions thanks to my years spent in the military. “What about the others that have access?”

Dr. Johnston looks at me quizzically. “What about them? They feel as strongly about the Cure as I do. None of them would ever take it out of the lab.”

“How often did Vincent come down to the level four bio security ward?”

“Not often. He comes through maybe every few weeks, asks about our work, and does a cursory inspection of the lab, but he does that with all of the sections.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?”

“Yes, little electronic device, sends your voice to a similar device over long distance,” I explain sarcastically.

She points to the small table in the dining room. I follow her gesture and locate the cell. I use it to dial my phone and store the number for future use.

“I think I have what I need. I recommend you check that sample and see if it’s gone in its entirety or simply diluted like I often did to my father’s whiskey when I was a kid,” I tell her and head for the front door.

“Mr. Malone,” she calls after me, “you have to get those samples back from whoever took them. If it falls into the wrong hands it could be devastating.”

I turn back and reply, “I can assure you, Ms. Johnston, it already has.”

I use the stairs to make my exit from the building. I have no love for elevators. It’s not a fear of them it’s just that there are very few options once you get inside one. Not to mention I can usually beat any elevator in race, especially going down.

My phone starts buzzing just as I clear the outer doors of the apartment building. “Yeah.”

“I’m in trouble, Leo,” Marvin says, obviously agitated about something.

Anxiety courses through me and I fear that I may have misjudged my enemy’s tenacity and struck again. “What is it?”

“I put this phone in my back pocket and when I went to the bathroom—I saw that all the hair had fallen out of my right butt cheek.”

“Goddamn it, Marvin!” I scream at the phone.

“This is not healthy, Leo! I need a new phone! I can feel the tumor growing in my head right now. You need to find a twenty-four hour Best Buy or something and bring me back a real phone.”

“Forget the tumor in your head, Marvin; you’re going to have a phone growing in your ass if you call me about that phone again!”

“So is that a no on Best Buy?”

“No I’m not going to fucking Best Buy!”

“Then can you stop and bring back a pizza? You still don’t have anything to eat in this place.”

I force myself to calm down and reply. “I’m on my motorcycle. How do you expect me to bring back a pizza?”

“I’ve seen a Korean carry his whole family and the bulk of their personal belongings on a moped. I’m sure you can manage a pizza.”

I think Marvin is actually trying to get me to kill him. It’s like suicide by cop only a lot more painful. Suicide by vampire. All I can do is hang up, get on my bike, and wonder why in the hell I’m stopping for pizza.

Several minutes later, as I’m standing in a pizza parlor waiting for my order, I wonder if Marvin has driven me to some kind of mental breakdown. All I want to do is go home and beat Marvin to death with that phone but instead I’m standing here waiting for a pizza—for Marvin.

It’s the phone. I gave it to him to deliberately piss him off but now I am the one that is being punished for it. He beat me at me at my own game and my mind simply cannot deal with that realization so here I am waiting for a pizza. I’ll be damned. This entire case has completely unraveled me. First I end up with a girlfriend, which is some sort of tragic miracle of its own, and I get beat in a ‘who can be the biggest pain in the ass’ contest with Marvin.

Can it be I actually like Marvin? Impossible, I don’t like anyone. I like Katherine. I like Katherine a lot. Has my relationship with Katherine opened me up to actually allow a friendship with another? God I hope this is just an emotional breakdown. Dr. Morrison is going to love this.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

“Marvin,” I shout as I pound on the door to be let in.

I hear Marvin struggle with the solid steel cross bar that secures the door from the inside from anything short of explosives or a multi-ton vehicle. He jumps away with his arms in front of him as I swing the door open.

“I have some information don’t kill me!”

“I’m not going to kill you. I have your damn pizza. I can’t have you passing out from hunger when you’re supposed to be working,” I growl and shove the pizza box in his hands.

“Oo, pizza,” Marvin smiles in surprise then looks at me with disappointment when he peers in the box. “It has mushrooms. I don’t like mushrooms.”

“You son of a…” I snarl and grab for the pistol inside my jacket pocket.

“It’s cool, I’ll pick them off!” Marvin hurriedly exclaims and seeks refuge behind his computer monitors.

His fear makes me feel a little better. I feel as though some semblance of balance has been reestablished.

“What did you find out?”

“Johnston had nothing in her emails but I did find a deleted email from Van Graff to Bryan Dawson telling him to get “the sample” from the bio safety-level 4 lab and to make sure no one sees him.”

“Who is this Dawson guy?”

“Some security drone. He was hired a year ago but the time sheets show that he hasn’t checked in to work for a couple weeks. His termination is going through channels right now,” Marvin explains.

“I have a feeling Mr. Dawson has already been terminated—permanently.”

“Hey, if they used a sword like you at least he got a severance package! Get it?” Marvin replies, laughing uproariously over his own twisted joke. I have to admit, it is pretty good.

“What about Vincent’s security system, have you hacked that yet?”

“Too easy. His system had the same vulnerability as yours and a million other people’s that got
LaRoche Security Corporation in so much hot water. I can’t believe how many people just don’t understand the importance of installing software patches. I was able to grab the encryption key between his system and the corporate server. All your base are belong to us,” he finishes in some weird voice.

“I don’t get it.”

“Resistance is futile?”

I respond with a blank stare.

“It’s a nerd thing, never mind.”

 “Enjoy your pizza and make sure you have that system locked down. I want to pay Mr. Van Graff a visit very soon,” I say as I return to my armory to think and prepare for what I hope is my final assault in this case.

As I work on the tools I’ll need to accomplish my mission, I continue to process everything I know about the case, everything I suspect about the case, and the evidence I have gathered that puts Vincent right in the middle of everything.

A new realization hits me like a truck. The hit on Yuri and Hanako that night in the club. I had dismissed it as a power play or a revenge killing by a rival family, but I now realize that it too is part of this only I stopped it. I cannot believe I did not link the two hits. Vincent pulls me into the case the day after that failed hit. That pulled me away from Yuri and a few days later he, Hanako, and the Italian get hit hard.

But that’s not what is bugging me. Something else is itching in my brain and takes me several minutes to figure out what it is.

“Marvin,” I call up out as I emerge from my armory. “I need you to do something else.”

I explain what I want to Marvin. “You sure like to challenge me, don’t you?”

“Can you do it?” I ask him.

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