The Green Lama: Crimson Circle (29 page)

“
Fuck. You,
” she said deliberately.

Omega chuckled, his teeth still lined with blood. “Oh, I don’t need to pull off the gag to understand
that
one,” he said, warmly. “Now, are you going to keep fighting back or will you play nice? If you keep up this nonsense, I will break both your legs and every single one of your tiny little toes.” He waited while Jean hesitantly stopped kicking. “Very good. Thank you, Miss Farrell.” He leaned forward and picked the blindfold off the bottom of the trunk. “Let’s put this back on you. We wouldn’t want to give away all my secrets, now would we?” he said as he placed the fabric over her eyes. He then lifted her up out of the trunk and, in one smooth gentle motion, threw her over his shoulder.

He carried her for several minutes, humming while he did, showing no sign of fatigue. Jean heard the sound of wind through the trees and the faint sound of wildlife, but nothing unique to indentify where they were. She heard the creak of rusted hinges of a metal door, Omega’s footsteps on a cement floor. There was the sound of metal sliding across a concrete floor and Jean was delicately placed in a cold metal chair. Her hands were momentarily unbound before being strapped to the armrests. She whimpered as he moved her dislocated arm. Omega then undid her gag before pulling off her blindfold. Her eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the bright light shining in her face, purple spots filling her vision.

“There,” Omega said warmly. “I’m sure that’s much more comfortable.”

Jean glanced down at her bindings, then back up to her captor. “Barely. You popped my shoulder out of its socket back at the theatre.”

“Ah, my apologies,” Omega said sincerely. He reached over, loosened the binding, took Jean’s arm in both his hands and in one fluid motion he pulled and twisted, snapping her shoulder back into place. Jean let out a moan of pain and relief. “There. Better?” he asked.

“Yeah…” She tried to peer into the shadows around her, making out the faint hint of a small table filled with what looked like medical equipment. There were no windows, the only light in the room blasting her in the face. There was a slight echo to their words; emptiness surrounded them. She took a long slow breath in. She needed to stay calm. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere private,” Omega replied, sliding a chair over and sitting down in front of her, his face drowned in silhouette. “Somewhere I like to take my most special of guests.”

“Well, isn’t that the sweetest thing.”

Omega crossed his legs, placed his hands in his lap and laced his fingers together, silently studying her. “I confess, Miss Farrell,” he said eventually. “I think I can see why the Green Lama is so taken with you. You have so much more…
spirit
than anyone else I have ever dealt with.”

Jean regarded Omega with suspicion. He was sitting right in front of her, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t make out a single detail of his face. “Are you…
flirting
with me?”

He chuckled. “No, Miss Farrell, I’m afraid not. But, I’m flattered you think I would. No, I’m simply expressing my...” He glanced away while he searched for the word. “My respect for another man’s taste.”

“Thanks. You know, you’re very inconsistent. One moment you slam me against a wall, the next you’re tryin’ to flatter me.”

Omega chuckled. “Some have called me volatile or erratic. I just simply adapt myself to the situation.”

She gestured her chin at his chest. “How’s that bullet wound treating ya?”

“Painful,” Omega admitted with a shrug. “But nothing I haven’t dealt with before. And how are you? Are you comfortable now?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Good. Good,” he said with a nod. He uncrossed his legs and shifted forward so he was a few inches away from her. Jean instinctually cringed back as far as she could. He waited several moments for her to relax before he reached over and gingerly rolled her hair around his fingers. “We wouldn’t want you to be any more anxious than you already are.”

Bewildered, Jean nervously watched him work. “Aren’t you just the perfect host?”

“Always.” He let the curl of hair spring off his fingers. Frowning with satisfaction, he got out of his chair and walked over to the table where he picked up a small bit of rope and stretched it between his hands.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jean asked despite her heart hammering in her chest as he slowly walked back toward her.

“If you want,” he said as he loomed over her, the rope taut in his hands.

She kept her eyes on his shadowed visage, doing her best to ignore the trembling beginning to echo through her body. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “You’re the one who took Gary.”

“That wasn’t a question, Miss Farrell.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

Omega considered her. “I am,” he said after a moment. He walked around her and tied the rope around Jean’s neck before wrapping it to the back of the chair. “Did Mrs. Stewart-Brown tell you about me?” he asked as he finished securing the knot. He pushed Jean’s head forward so that the rope pressed against her throat. “Stay right there,” he instructed. “Don’t lean forward too much or you’ll choke yourself.”

A long quavering breath escaped Jean’s lips. “Where is he?” she asked, trying to tramp down the panic that was welling up in her stomach.

“Now why would I tell you that?” he asked with a bemused smile.

“You killed my friends, dragged me to a secluded, windowless shack in the middle of nowhere and then tied me to a chair. Humor me.”

The hollow sound of Omega’s laugh echoed in the cramped space as he turned back to the table. “With my associates,” he said as he sat down in front of her again. “
If
he is still alive, that is. I’m afraid his fate is no longer in my hands.”

“And Theodor?” Jean asked with a faint snarl.

Omega stared at her in silence.

Her lowered lip quivered. “You killed him.”

Omega struck her with the back of his hand. Jean’s head flung to the side, and the rope cut into her neck. She let out a choked cry and tried to blink away the black spots that formed in front of her eyes.

“Theodor Harrin was a pitiful man,” he said at length, a subtle rage lacing his tone. “I don’t know what you saw in him.”

“Did you?” she shot back.

“Such a pretty face,” Omega said before striking her again.

Jean let out a cough, tasting blood against her tongue. “Did you?!” she shouted, defiant to the last.

Omega hit her again, harder this time. Jean’s right eye stung and her ears were ringing. Omega leaned back and considered her intently for a moment. “I did,” he admitted as he adjusted his suit. “Does that bother you?”

Jean bared her teeth. “A bit.”

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

Jean croaked a laugh. “You don’t seem like the apologetic type.”

“My profession does not allow for apologies,” he said gravelly.

“No, I didn’t think it would.” Her heart settled back into a familiar rhythm. This was it, she realized, the end of the road; and as terrifying as it was, she wouldn’t go out begging. After all she had faced, the horrible things she had witnessed, whatever Omega had planned was nothing she couldn’t handle. “So, are we about finished with all this foreplay, cause I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m here for.”

Omega leaned forward and took Jean’s right hand into his, stroking it like he was her lover. “You and your friends have been quite troublesome, more so than I am accustomed to. It has been very frustrating. And you—” He paused to cough into his left hand, blood flecking his lips. He wiped his palm carelessly on his pant leg. “You put up more of a fight than I had anticipated.”

“Thanks,” Jean said with a terse grin.

“Don’t worry, Miss Farrell, I have no intentions of killing you,” he reassured her as he took her right pinky finger and slowly pushed it back. She winced in pain but remained silent. “Unlike your compatriots, my employers believe you are worth more alive than dead. I’d just like you a little more… talkative.”

“I’m pretty talkative already,” she admitted. “Seriously, I never shut up.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Miss Farrell,” he said before snapping Jean’s finger back.

Jean let out a scream. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

“There we are…” Omega said with satisfaction before moving on to the ring finger.

Jean screamed again, the pain radiating throughout her body. It was a sensation like being drunk, but without the giddiness and joy of intoxication. She felt like she was neck deep in sand, her muscles turning to rock. He was going to ask her about Jethro, she realized, a pit forming in her stomach. He was going to torture her until she couldn’t hold back the truth. She needed to delay the inevitable, draw out some time until she figured a way out. She peered into Omega’s shadowed visage. “You know, you are a really creepy guy,” she said through hitched breaths. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

Omega smiled and softly kissed her wounded hand. “I’ve been told as much before. Though they’re usually screaming.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her intently for several moments. “Miss Jean Farrell. Born April thirtieth, nineteen-fifteen at your father’s farm in Silver Bow County, no town to speak of, naturally. Mother died in childbirth, as we discussed. I understand she was quite beautiful. No siblings, but more cousins than you could count. You were a noted delinquent at school, despite your obvious intelligence, and your marksmanship is practically unparalleled by anyone of either sex.” He then snapped back her middle finger. He waited for her to finish screaming before he continued. “You left Silver Bow in nineteen thirty-four—not long after your break up with Andrew Lawton—in hopes of making it in Hollywood, but your biggest role was an extra in
A Night at the Opera
where you met the actor Ken Clayton. You two quickly struck up a friendship and were soon publicly dating, despite the fact that Clayton is a homosexual. You and Mr. Clayton eventually left Los Angeles aboard the
S.S. Cathay
where you met the Green Lama, and have been working with him ever since. And let us not forget your successful turn on Broadway. You’ve done quite a bit for a woman who’s only twenty-four.”

“Aw, come on,” Jean protested, her voice like syrup. “You’re not supposed to tell a lady her age.”

“Oh, Miss Farrell,” Omega chuckled. “You and I both know you are
very
far from being a lady.”

Jean grimaced. “Well, that’s just not nice.” Her head was swimming.

“You see, when I was a young man, a lady would never act the way you do; so uncouth and violent. It’s really unbecoming.”

“When were you a young man?” Jean asked with a cocked eyebrow. It was then that she noticed her right eye was beginning to swell shut. “Was Queen Victoria still bouncing around in her petticoat?”

Omega gave her a sad smile. “It was a very long time ago,” he admitted with genuine sorrow. “Longer than you’d expect.”

Jean narrowed her eyes and whispered conspiratorially: “Are you a Dracula?”

Omega smiled as he carefully wrapped his hand around her forefinger. “Vampires are myth and stories, Miss Farrell.”

“Not according to Ken,” Jean said pointedly. “He killed one with his bare hands. And don’t get me started on the succubus.”

“Hm,” Omega sounded. “Intriguing… But to answer your question, I’m only a man; very old and very tired. Not as old as my predecessor, though I’ll confess he looks a lot younger than I do, but I’m sure that’s thanks in part to his incredible talent with make-up.”

“Let me ask you another question.” Jean said. “I know you’re not some lone wolf in the night, so tell me, whom do you work for?”

“The people who control the world… or like to think they do,” he replied. “A group that is very interested in your robed friend.”

The corner of Jean’s lips curled up lustfully. “Oh, we’re more than friends.”

“I gathered as much,” Omega said as he snapped back her forefinger. He smiled as he watched her writhe in pain, enjoying the way the rope around her neck pushed against her skin. He pinched her thumb and wiggled it back and forth as if debating whether or not he wanted to break that as well. “It’s partially why you’re still alive.”

“Let me tell you, bucko, I thought I knew what it was supposed to be like, but it wasn’t until I met him, that I realized how great it could be,” she said breathlessly, sweat beaded at her forehead. She needed to stay in control, to ignore the pain.

Omega held up a hand. “How wonderful for you both, but your sexual activities are none of my concern, Miss Farrell.” He let go of her thumb and stood up from his chair. Towering over her, he grabbed her by her hair and violently pulled back her head so her gaze met his.

“Then what is?” Jean asked. “Come on, I know there’s got to be some questions you need answering. Why else go through all the trouble?”

“I think you have misunderstood the circumstances of your capture, Miss Farrell.” Omega said, letting out a rolling laugh. “We know Jethro Dumont is the Green Lama. Oh, he has done his best to hide this fact, being so successful as to lead us astray for a period of time, but we’ve corrected our course and have almost reached the end of this little quest. We also know of his susceptibility to the Epsilon Mist, and now we have the woman he loves. We have everything we need to defeat the Green Lama… There are no more questions to ask.”