The Damascus Chronicles (13 page)

“It would good if we could get the guys who pulled off this job.”

“Big fucking score indeed.”

“Something’s is eating me though.”

“What?” Franco asked.

“The anti bioterrorist department discovered a residue of the gas that was used on the victims. The gas changes memory in the brain causing delusion and false memories,” said Phillips.

“And?” said Franco impatiently.

“FDMI90 was a toxic gas we used in the CIA to torture enemies. From the description it sounds like the same one.”

“What’s your point?”

“Only CIA on the COBRAKNIGHT mission, and only personnel in the top class within our unit, had access to this toxin,” said Phillips.

“Damascus,” they both said.

“The son of a bitch didn’t know who you were at the warehouse deal. Find him, get close to him, get him into our pocket, then kill him,” said Franco.

“No problem. We’ll bring him in and say it’s a special job or some bullshit, and then when we get what we want we’ll clip him,” said Phillips.

“Find out what you can from him; just say you got into town for vacation, or something.”

“Right.”

“Get on it immediately,” said Franco sternly.

Back at Michael’s pad, Serena, Jackie, and Michael unloaded the stash on the table to check out their spoils.

“We got the tapes, we got the moola, we got the power baby,” laughed Jackie. Serena counted the stacks of cash while Michael weighed the coke on a small scale he had pulled out of the kitchen. Hearing the crisp sound of those bills was so sweet.

“Boys, we got us here just in cash 300 grand,” said Serena happily.

“On the jewelry, I know a fence who will give us 20 grand,” said Jackie. “How much do you think well get for those 5 kilos?”

“After weighing them, another 300 grand,” replied Michael confidently.

“A whopping total of 620,000 dollars. It’s going to be a good season,” said Michael, laughing as he popped open a chilled bottle of expensive champagne and poured it into some glasses.

“Here’s to us, salut!” said Jackie as they toasted their success.

They divided up the spoils quickly. “Mikey baby, why don’t we all go some place nice tonight to celebrate,” giggled Serena.

“Yeah Mike, that sounds like a good idea,” said Jackie. Michael pulled out a card of his pocket. At first he thought was a cigarette. The card read, THE BLACK SPIDER CLUB.

“Ladies and gents, find yourself a tux and dress, we’re going to my club for a hell of a night,” said Michael.

“I didn’t know you owned a nightclub,” said Serena.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, but we’ll leave that for later. Come on, the night is young and I’m sure we all want to paint this town red,” said Michael.

They all agreed in eager anticipation.

The night was young and everyone was eager to celebrate. Serena and Michael went and bought the best tuxedo and dress they could find from MAXIMILLON’S Department Store. They met Jackie on the Strip, with the best glitz of nightlife in Vegas among the nightclubs, concert theaters, and casinos. Louie, the bouncer, opened the grand, golden oak entrance doors for Michael and his guests, “Good evening Mr. Damascus, we have a hot lineup tonight, boss.”

“Hey Louie, keep it real tonight,” Michael replied.

“Have a good time ladies and gentlemen, and Mike don’t worry, I always keep the assholes out.” Louie chomped on his cheap cigar.

“Yeah you do,” said Michael with a smile. Tipping Louie with a hundred dollar bill, Michael breathed in peace; the club had never looked so good. The elegance of the place was extravagant; it was like the posh, dim, candle-lit clubs from classic black and white Hollywood movies. The teal blue walls were marble and a three-level dance floor rose above the main stage. Twin stairways led up to the dance floors and the beautiful Italian-tiled bars were stocked with expensive liquors and cigars. Amid the romantic lighting, the place was filled to the brim with Las Vegas’s elite. The flashiest New Orleans jazz band in the city was playing. On the main stage stood a hip old black gentlemen dressed in a black silk suit and tie. He cradled a saxophone and was speaking into a microphone; he was the main MC of Michael’s club. “Ah right ladies and gentlemen welcome tonight to the Black Spider, you get ready to get hopping because we’re going to get rocking. Please welcome from New Orleans, Louisiana, the show band that always brings down the house, The Mickey Blues Boys, with me as your host, Mickey Blue Robinson. We’re going to play for you an old-time favorite. Here’s a song called Raven’s Love.”

Sweetness filled the night air as the band played. Serena stared in awe at the magnificence of the club. “Right out of classic Hollywood, I love it,” she said.

The trio sat down to be served. Serena and Jackie were living it up. “Mike, this place is amazing,” said Jackie as the waitress poured him a glass of wine.

“Glad you both like it; I just got the place running a few weeks ago after renovations. Good old Mickster on the stage there sold this place to me a while back, and we’ve been good friends ever since.”

“You know a place like this would be perfect for you know what I mean,” said Jackie.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” “So how about it?”

“You tell the Don I’m open for any opportunity as long as I get 40 percent of the action,” Michael answered.

“Good I’ll talk to him.” The audience clapped after song ended. A stunning woman with short blonde hair wearing a glittering red dress walked on stage and the spotlight turning on her.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen please welcome the main beauty of the Black Spider, the sassy, sparkling, and saucy dream, Miss Isabelle Webster,” Mickey announced as the drums beat rose and the horns bellowed.

“Hello boys, this one is for you, it’s called Lovers Tonight,” said Isabelle as she began to sing. The guests applauded. The room seemed to go motionless as they listened to her heavenly voice, which could only be described as angelic. Michael put his arm around Serena as they sat close together and kissed.

As the night went on the two embraced on the dance floor, swaying in time with the distant voice of Mickey singing Jazzing on a Sunday. At the end of the night, after everyone had gone home, Michael met with Mickey Blue, introducing him to Serena and Jackie.

“Mickey, another fantastic performance my man,” said Michael, impressed.

“Ah Mike, what can I say, going into business with you has been the best thing I’ve ever done. Ever since the Scarfos’ shut down my old club, I never thought I’d be in the night club business again,” said Mickey Blue, shaking hands in agreement.

“I’d like you to meet my girl Serena and my best friend Jackie,” said Michael.

“A pleasure,” said Jackie shaking Mickey Blue’s hand.

“May I just give you a kiss for that beautiful sound earlier,” said Serena.

“Sure honey, an old guy like me needs a little sugar now and then,” Mickey Blue joked as Serena kissed him on the check.

“So tell me Mickey, where is Isabelle? I want to congratulate her on a great job she did tonight,” Michael smiled.

“Sure, she’s upstairs in her dressing room. She’ s ready to call it a night; you better go see her now if you still want to catch her.”

Serena gave Michael a look of disapproval, and then smiling said, “Go ahead, I won’t be jealous.”

Michael went up to Isabelle’s dressing room while the others continued to talk downstairs. He knocked on Isabelle’s door. “Come in,” she called. “Issy girl, you killed them tonight. You’re going to put this club through the roof,” said Michael as he came up behind her to rub her back.

“Mikey, ever since we were kids you’ve always called me that,” said Isabelle, teasing.

“I love you like family, what can I say?”

Isabelle sat feeling a little depressed, looking at Michael with sad eyes, “I wish you could love me the way I do you. Who’s the new girl, by the way?”

“Her name’s Serena, and what’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked, a little uncomfortably. “Nothing. I just wish you and me could spend some more time together,” Isabelle pouted.

“Look Isabelle, you know I’ve always cared about you like a sister. What we had a long time ago was good, but things are different now.”

“I just miss you sometimes, that’s all.”

“I know, but it’s not going to happen. Ever since Katrina died I’ve looked at you differently; you and she were so much alike, and every time we were alone and I looked into your eyes all I could see was her. Besides, you have Bobby Scarfo. He loves you deeply, you know that,” said Michael.

“I know, I love him but not the same way I love you.”

“Please try to accept the way things are now,” said Michael.

Giving him a little smile, she hugged him and wished him goodnight. Just before leaving, Michael handed her a gift of 2,000 bucks as a bonus for her performance.

After Michael shut the door behind him, Isabelle fell to the floor and began crying with longing for the man she’d once had. Michael felt sadness creep into his gut as he walked downstairs but cheered up upon seeing Serena’s smile. After wishing good night to Mickey, they all went home to sleep the night away.

A day later Frank Watson checked out of the hospital early. The doctor approached Frank with a sad look. “I’m sorry Frank, we tried all we could, but Mr. Harris just let go. I guess the impact of the car crash was too much on his system. He died last night. We didn’t want to tell you until you were ready to go back on duty,” said the doctor. Frank lost it and stormed out of the hospital in anger. Without thinking, he ran to the parking lot, and began crying. “Bastards! I’m going to find those sons of bitches and I’m going to bust them one way or another,” raged Frank, he then called a taxi to go the police station. Upon entering headquarters he saw that the station was a wreck and that investigation teams were looking over the place. “What the hell happened in here Jim?” Frank asked an officer just coming into the room.

“We had a robbery here last night. The strange thing is, nobody who was here last night remembers a thing, not seeing anyone, nothing. I just came in this morning and found the place like this; the other officers and the commissioner who were here last night were taken to the hospital, but were released this morning. They just got back. Physically they weren’t harmed, but they don’t remember a thing,” Officer Jim Maceson repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The place looks blown to hell and no one remember zip,” barked Frank in surprise.

“I’m sorry to hear about Jack. Joe told me the doctor broke the news to him when he was at the hospital checking up on you guys,” said Jim.

“Forget about it. Did the cameras pick up anything?” asked Frank.

“Nothing, unfortunately,” said Jim.

“Damn it. Jim I got a hunch who did this, I got to go.” Frank took off out the door.

Frank began to check the computer system in his squad car for any businesses registered under the name of Damascus; the only one he found was Damascus and Son, Tailors.

Frank sped off to the tailor shop. Joseph Damascus, the owner of the store, was just finishing tailoring a pair of slacks when Frank barreled in. “Detective Frank Watson, Las Vegas PD.”

“Officer, what’s wrong?” asked Joseph.

“What’s wrong is my partner is dead because of you,” yelled Frank in anger, slamming the old man on a table and positioning his oversized factory style sewing machine with a needle coming down so that it would cut up his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; I’ve been here all week! Oh sweet Jesus!!” screamed Joseph.

“He’s right, let him go, I was with him working the shop,” said a young boy, coming up front from the back of the store.

“Peter! Stay out of this son,” yelled the old man.

“No! Let my papa go,” protested Peter.

Frank freed the old man just before he could be injured. “Then who else by the name of Damascus could it be old coot?” demanded Frank.

“My older son Michael, that low down, mob hustling bum,” said Joseph.

“Who?” Frank asked.

“Years ago, my son used to hang around a bunch of thugs, wise guy bums; he never listened to me and he got pinched once for breaking and entering but the police couldn’t find enough evidence to get him convicted so they let him go. Afterwards, he joined the armed services with his sister. Two years ago it was reported to us that she was killed on a mission. Our son was said to be missing, and we haven’t seen him since.” Joseph paused to catch his breath from the all the excitement.

“It has to be him. Some joker mentioned his name and was killed right before my eyes,” said Frank.

“I’d bet, if anything, he’s probably still alive,” said Joseph.

“Got a picture of this guy?”

Peter handed Frank a picture of a man in his late twenties, dressed in army uniform.