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Shiver on the Sky

Page 65

by David Haywood Young


  * * *

  Frank Serno threw a pencil across his office as hard as he could. It slapped against the far wall and gently, insultingly, dropped to the floor. He glared at it. Damnit, what the hell was Opiela doing in Danny’s files? Or his office last night, for that matter? Spying for Tremaine, no doubt, but he was being a royal pain in the ass.

  But, in the final analysis, their little conspiracy was almost laughable. They’d really thought they could fool him. But Frank had checked the access logs last night, and Opiela hadn’t used a keycard to get into Danny’s office. So he pretty much had to be up to something, didn’t he? Moron. But then, they all were.

  Frank wondered again what it was that made him different. Maybe it was some internal organ or special enzyme that gave him his advantages. But all the medical books he’d seen were about normal people, or people with illnesses. He wasn’t going to vivisect himself to seek atypical formations. Still, he liked to poke around inside bodies to see what he came across. Maybe he’d kill someone almost like himself someday, and figure it out from that.

  Anyway, Frank was on top of things. He shouldn’t have thrown the pencil. Did pencils have feelings? Probably not…he concentrated, but didn’t sense anything. Still, there was no reason to be rude. He sent the pencil a silent apology.

  Yesterday Danny had missed two very important meetings without so much as a phone call. He’d never done that before. When Frank had tried to call Reinhardt to see if he knew what was going on, a stranger had answered the phone. And then Opiela had been fumbling around.

  Something was up, clearly. So Frank had begun protecting himself. When Viktor Bentley had shown up this morning, with that guy Jameson and his bizarre story about Danny flipping out and Reinhardt running off, Frank had known he’d been right to get rid of Danny’s irritating “cousins” and burn the warehouse. That had nearly gone wrong, too, when some other guy had jumped out at him. But Frank had taken care of it. Whom did they think they were dealing with, anyway? (He was proud of the “whom.” Frank was a classy guy, not like these others he had to work with. With whom he had to work.)

  He would fix the Opiela problem too. Opiela had thought he was clever, using his cell phone, but Frank knew a way around that. It was one of the features of the new phone system Danny had been busting his balls about. If you knew the codes, you could listen in on whatever was happening near any of the phones in the office. He’d been listening to Opiela all day. So he’d caught half of the conversation, anyway.

  Frank grinned suddenly. Danny had been almost right after all—the new phone system hadn’t done him much good.

  So Opiela, Tremaine, and maybe some cops would be at Tremaine’s houseboat in a couple of hours. Frank was packed and ready to leave town anyway…but it might be worth trying to nip this in the bud. At the least, he could get some revenge for the way they’d interfered in his business.

  Damnit, he’d given Danny too much credit. He hadn’t even considered that Danny might have digital copies of the pictures. Frank had even started to think Danny might have destroyed the originals, because after years of silence he wouldn’t be much better off than Frank if it came out he’d had them all along. People would start to wonder why he hadn’t done anything about it, and all sorts of things would be revealed. And by now Frank had plenty of stuff on Danny too. He’d been hoping they were past the blackmail stage.

  Hell. He’d been hesitant to torch Danny’s house last night, not knowing exactly what the situation was. Danny had been upset with him already—ever since Frank had wrapped the girl’s dress around Junior’s neck before dumping his body on the beach (though Frank still thought it was a nice touch and might solve some of his other problems).

  It was a hell of a lot more clever than the mauling Danny had given the body. Frank still worried the police or the coroner might expose that somehow. Danny hadn’t listened to Frank at all, though. He’d just said he wanted the body found quickly so he could get moving at CyberLook.

  Maybe Danny had enjoyed mutilating Junior. That wasn’t healthy, was it? It wasn’t even scientific. Maybe Danny had had some sort of emotional problem. But it didn’t really matter anymore, now that he was dead.

  Tonight Frank would be busy for a few hours with Opiela and Tremaine. But if all went well at the marina—and why wouldn’t it?—he’d have to stop by and take care of Danny’s place afterwards in case there were more copies of the pictures. Maybe he’d do it even if all didn’t go well. A little confusion never hurt, and anyway fires were fun.

  He looked at a picture of his mother he’d propped up on his desk. He’d had it ever since he was a kid. She hadn’t liked it when he’d burned things, though even after she’d figured it out she’d never told anybody what he’d done. It wasn’t so much what you did, it was who knew about it that mattered. She’d taught him that.

  He always told people it was a picture of his wife. As if he’d ever get married. Except for his mother, women were weak and usually stupid. But he drew strength from her picture. She hadn’t raised any quitters.

  He’d had to deal with her two years ago, when she’d found his cache of souvenirs. He’d hoped she could rise above her prejudices and understand him better, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. He almost hadn’t had the courage to kill her, but she hadn’t left him any choice. She’d taken a long time to die, and killing her had been more…well, more exciting than he’d expected.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the way her eyes had seemed to swell as she’d gasped for the air he’d seen to it she would never find, and felt a matching swelling in his groin…then shook his head violently. He had to concentrate now; this was no time to think about Mom. There was planning to do.

  Maybe he’d end up having to leave town in spite of his efforts. But that would be unfair. He’d earned better luck than that. And then again…if he was good enough, quick enough, he might come out of this better off than he’d been when it began.

  Viktor Bentley and his NSA buddy would need somebody around who understood things to run the company. And nobody but Frank would be left alive.

  ***

 

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