When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (good books for high schoolers .TXT) đź“•
I pulled my bottom lip. "Looks like the bastard shot you from behind, too."
Billings made fists of his dead hands and pounded the arms of the chair. "I want him!"
Chapter 3
"All right," I said. "How'd it happen?"
Mr. Billings looked uncomfortable as he squeaked around in his seat. I knew the look; he was about to be fairly dishonest with me.
"You must realize the importance of--confidentiality." His eyes did a conscientious little roll of self-possession until they came to rest on me again, quivering and uncertain like bad actors. They were indefinite and restless on either side of his hatchet nose. Perfectly unconvincing so far.
"You may not believe this, but under all this makeup, I'm a god-damned angel," I sneered. "Besides, there are few people who take my word seriously." I flashed him a quick idiot grin.
"May I ask?" The dead man nervously pulled out a package of ci
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I lit a cigarette, stared blankly at the numbers, and then checked my gun where it was thrust through my belt in back. My overcoat hid it well enough. It wasn’t for the welcome I was going to get. I knew the receptionist would have called ahead of me by now. I kept the gun for a scene I hoped would come later in the act. If everything went according to plan, enough firepower was converging to raze Galaxy Tower. My .9mm wouldn’t help me much. As I approached the top of the building I placed my hat on my head, then straightened it. I peered into the polished brass doorframe. I looked sufficiently ridiculous—my makeup freshly applied—though I had to admit the hat had a humanizing effect.
The elevator dinged abruptly at the same instant it stopped. I heard the low hum of power gather at the doors before they rumbled open. I was not surprised by what I saw, merely satisfied. There is definitely something gratifying about having a hunch play-out correctly. At least for a detective. I didn’t reach for my gun, just opened my hands and smiled at my reception committee.
“You’re not going to try to pass for a long lost cousin, are you, Mr. Adrian?” I asked him where he stood smiling in deep pile ivory carpet between two tall gentlemen with machine guns.
My mouth was bleeding. I hadn’t expected that one. Adrian had reached out and decked me. He had a good solid fist that I would respect next time it was thrown at me. I was dragged into the penthouse and thrown roughly onto a black leather couch. The gunmen took up positions behind it; their weapons ready—occasionally nudging my shoulders with the barrels. Adrian sauntered over to a long chromium and glass bar that ran the length of one wall. He reached over, grabbed a towel, used it to wipe my blood and makeup off his fist then threw it at me. I pressed it against my lips and counted teeth. One on the top felt loose, but I still had a mouthful. My winning smile remained intact. Strange, the things one thinks about before the hangman comes.
“Let’s not draw this out, Wildclown.” Adrian used his commanding voice from where he mixed a pair of drinks behind the bar. To his left, the penthouse opened onto a large games room containing the requisite pool and poker tables and dartboards. A wall bearing three dark doors ran the length of that. Various paintings, either original or copies of the masters hung on the plain beige walls.
“Sorry about your boys…” I mumbled behind the towel referring to Pigface and the Monkey twins.
His brow furrowed. “Oh, Jacky and the others! They were well paid.” He carried the drinks over, set one in front of me, and then sat on the chair opposite with his. He looked elegant in his dark green, wool suit and red tie. But there was something different about him. He still retained his aura of power, but the red in the tie spoke of a ferocity that had been unleashed. Adrian managed to look casual but couldn’t hide a primitive desperation in his mien. He crossed his legs—the mannered pose belied the carnal viciousness in his movements. His suit went well with the easy chair he had chosen—it was gray, the color of my future.
“You knew your secretary was working for the Twelve Stars…” I said slowly, my jaw still numb.
“I knew that, yes.” Adrian smiled. “Though I don’t think she intended to become a spy for them. I believe her involvement with them began as a fad. It was just her bad luck that she tried to be a good little trooper for them. Her line was tapped, had been from the start. Not for any particular suspicion on my part, I just think it’s good policy…one has to keep ahead of the competition.”
“For someone who’s ahead of the competition, you’re starting to look like someone who lost the race.”
“What do you mean?” His eyes flashed fire. I saw my incisor print on his fist whiten.
“You’re not in control of the situation. You faked your own death.” I tasted my drink. My lip throbbed immediately. I took another drink.
“After you visited—I realized that the timeframe for my original plan had become slightly truncated.” He sighed, “In plain English—I needed to buy myself some time, which was unfortunate for my secretary.” He drank, then made a motion to one of the men behind me. A cigarette flipped through the air. Adrian caught it.
“That was her on the highway…” I worked a hunch.
“Yes, she donated the majority of the flesh. I provided several liters of blood that I had stored for emergencies, operations and so forth. Oh yes, and some hair and nail clippings so they could positively identify me. One trip to the landfill netted plenty of male body parts to put in the blender after certain distinctive organs were removed from her anatomy. Authority is notorious for its failure to pay attention to detail, so I didn’t expect they would discover my ruse. Most bodies, especially one treated as roughly as that was, are sent to the landfill as soon as the coroner signs the death certificate. It is a violent world we live in. Death is cheap these days. And, Authority expected to find my body sometime. They were willing to believe it was me.” He smiled grimly. “How did you know I was still alive?”
I rubbed at my face. “Call it a hunch. I know that must be frustrating to you, and that may very well be why I say it.” I watched Adrian’s face. “I remembered the security at Simpson’s, for one. I found it very difficult to believe that anyone could get to you that easily. The impressive nature of the buildings might be working against you there. I bought it at first, then I began to count bodies. Your dying at that time when you had exuded such confidence just didn’t fit. I realized that my showing up at your door must have caused you some concern. If I knew about your method of collecting clients you would realize that it was likely that someone else did too. You figured the game was over, so you moved to Plan B. You disappeared. Maybe that was what put me onto you. At first I thought you were running from Authority, or a mob of angry customers. But, you’re too powerful for that. You disappeared for other reasons. I suppose you used that time to construct this new identity? Or, no, you already had it waiting.”
“Yes, I did.” Adrian chuckled. “I should not have underestimated you. In a simple disguise—a wig and false moustache—I took an airliner to the old country. It was a deception that worked without my having to bribe anyone. That’s what I liked about it.”
“So no one knew you were out of the country. I’ll bet you made no secret of returning as Demarus. Sure, you wait it out there. Your cronies chop up your secretary when you give the say so, dump her on the highway with male body parts, a bit of mangled ID, your hair and blood, they give a call to Authority. You return as Demarus, grieving uncle to the poor deceased. What did you look like, a fake nose and beard?”
“I used some of the technology we employed at Simpson’s.”
“Why didn’t you just bribe Authority? We both know they don’t represent anything resembling real law and order.” I watched Adrian for weakness.
“I was not willing to cut them in. They no longer represent a single powerful entity.”
“Treating the dead is a multi-million dollar business!” I threw in. “They wouldn’t be greedy enough to shut you down. You must have been making payoffs already. What’s another point?”
Adrian simply smiled. “It keeps me from being one hundred per cent. There are far too many palms to grease. And as I said, with the internal disintegration of Authority no one was powerful enough to guarantee my safety anymore.”
“So you wanted to shut down. Sure, you’ve got enough money socked away, and you have something bigger, I’ll bet.”
“Then we share a secret, Mr. Wildclown.” Adrian butted his cigarette out.
“The Twelve Stars must have missed her though…your secretary. They had to be dealt with. They have a good deal of pull in Authority.” I put the towel down, pulled out a cigarette and lit one. I sensed gun barrels following my movements. “And, they’re nuts. They don’t do business in the usual way.”
“As I understand Authority, all special interests groups within it work behind the scenes. And the Twelve Stars can’t act until they’re given orders from their Eternal Fuhrer, or whatever he calls himself.” Adrian rose and took up a position by the bar. “They can’t openly challenge things—at least they can’t openly challenge the combined groups inside Authority—the whole thing works with loosely formed alliances, I’m told. Whoever has something to lose calls in favors, gives out favors or threatens the right people. Oh, I have no doubt that the Twelve Stars were working on the mystery of my disappearance—they were very interested. That’s part of the reason for providing them with my body. As for my secretary, we hoped to cover that with a note and some theatrics from Ms. Van Reydner. Jan assumed her identity and made sure she was seen leaving town.”
“To buy time…” I was uncertain. “So Van Reydner returned.” I had harbored a secret hope that she had turned against her master. I was such a romantic.
“Yes, due to the nature of certain recent acquisitions…it became impossible for her to check in at the prearranged time as you and I discussed in my former offices.” He smiled. “I might add she helped set you up at the Arizona Hotel.” Adrian showed his teeth.
“You knew I would go, and you made certain that everyone else who was looking for her knew she was there. Then, you sit back and watch your enemies eliminate each other.” I took a long drag of my cigarette until my lips stung. The pain cleared my mind. “So what did the Twelve Stars want with you? What did your secretary tell them?”
“Enough.” Adrian managed to look wounded. “She started with the inner workings of my organization and ended with your ridiculous accusations.”
The elevator hummed and began to descend. I hoped there would be something in it for me. Adrian stared bullets.
“Who else did you tell, Mr. Wildclown?” he snarled viciously, then turned to one of his gunmen. “No call from the desk! It must be Authority. Go quick! Get Miles and Stephan in here fast, and armor up. Get the others ready. Tell them to play it cool. You’ve got two minutes.” Adrian pulled his own gun and checked its action, then he looked at me. “Wildclown, regardless of how I play this out. I will win.”
In moments Adrian’s palatial penthouse produced two more gunmen. They were just slipping into the final heavy pieces of Authority Enforcer armor. The gunman sent to get them followed doing the same. They turned over a couple of end tables and took up position in a fan shape in front of the elevator. The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
Inside, Douglas Willieboy stood to the left of Inspector Cane. Both wore the long black leather of Authority Inspectors. Both had their hands empty, palms out. Both their faces had the strained look of having struck a truce.
“Don’t shoot!” growled Willieboy. “I want to make a deal. We’re businessmen, Adrian!”
Cane spoke up. “We’ll offer you twenty million.” He licked the fear off his lips.
Adrian smiled. “Miles, Stephan! Frisk them.” As
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