He looked up, slowly, as if moving suddenly would cause her to strike like a snake.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She reached up and pulled the red scarf down from her nose, revealing full lips on an impossibly pretty face. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. How?
“Peter told me you ordered the hit on my father, Alexander Dumas. You also murdered my Mother, Nadia, and my little sister, Sara. Yes?”
Vaas shook his head. This was Madisun Dumas? Henry had assured him she was a worthless piece of trash who wasn’t a threat in any way. They wouldn’t have even bothered with her if she hadn’t called the police. After that they only kept trying because it pissed them off how she managed to slip through their fingers. He thought for sure she’d gone underground, moved to Canada or someplace ISO hadn’t extended their influence yet… then it clicked.
“It was you in Detroit. Ghost… you killed the Ghost?”
“Stabbed him through the chest with a combat knife, the way he killed my sister. Now I’m here to kill you Vaas, for what you did to my family.”
He nodded. He deserved this; he realized that now. She was his divine retribution. All the stories his mother told him as a child about avenging angels… that was what she was. She was the angel of death.
“Before you die, Vaas, you have a chance to do one good thing in your life. Tell me where the people are who pull your strings.” Vaas shivered as she spoke. The gun in his hand all but forgotten. She was unstoppable. There was nothing that could save him now. He dropped the gun on the desk with a thump and turned around to face the window. He leaned his head against the glass, enjoying the view one last time.
“Belize City,” Vaas said. “The heads of ISO live in Belize.”
He closed his eyes and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
Chapter 34
Saturday morning dawned and Henry rolled over in his bed as the sun came through the big window in his expensive house. The silk sheets rolled off him like water. Sadly, he was alone this morning. He hadn’t gone out; instead he was glued to the TV, watching the drama at the Dome unfold.
His phone rang and rang all night. The police even sent a uniform over to knock on his door, but he pretended not to be home. The farther away he was from this mess the better. Let them think he was out on the town… gone for the weekend. It wasn’t unusual for that to happen.
ISO hadn’t told him about their operation to blow up the Saints HQ. If they had, he would have told them they were insane. Or at least he would have thought about telling them that.
After he dressed himself, he made coffee and walked to his office, holding the steaming mug while he read the headlines on his phone. He walked into his office on autopilot, heading for his large leather power chair—and froze.
The chair swiveled around. Henry dropped his coffee and phone, taking a step back as the steaming hot mug hit the floor. She looked just like the other night, eyes glowing impossibly blue, even in the morning light. She still wore the red scarf around her mouth and nose, obscuring her identity.
Only the large silver revolver cradled in her lap was new.
“I told you what you wanted,” he pleaded. “Please don’t kill me.” He resisted the urge to drop to his knees and beg. He was a coward—he knew that now—but he wanted to die with some shred of dignity… if he had to die.
“Relax Henry,” she said in her eerie voice that bounced around the room, sending his hair standing on end. “I’m not going to kill you.” She stood up, waving him toward the chair as she circled the desk opposite him. When he reached it he sat down.
She picked his phone up. With her thumb she scanned through it, looking at something he couldn’t see. Then she shut it down and tossed it to him. He caught it, placing it on the desk as it restarted.
“If you’re not here to kill me, then what are you doing? I don’t have anything else.” Now that she’d stated her intentions, he grew a bit of a spine, puffing up as if somehow because she said she wouldn’t kill him, she couldn’t.
Maybe she won’t off a DA? If she’s a “good guy” then that has to count for something.
“Don’t get up uppity,” she said. She shook her head, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders as she pulled it out of the dreadlock ponytail she kept it in. Then she pulled the scarf down and the light in her eyes dimmed. He knew who she was the moment the blue faded. Once upon a time he’d thought she was the prettiest woman who ever lived. But… she looked as young and pretty as the day they met. Over a year had passed since he saw her last, but she looked better than when they were married in college. Then the shock hit him.
Madisun is the person who dismantled ISO almost overnight?
“I bet you’re wondering how, right? How I survived when my family didn’t? It’s a long story, but right now I just have one question for you. Did you know they were going to kill Sara?”
“Madi—”
Annoyance flickered across her face. “Don’t call me that, you don’t have the right. Don’t say my name again or I’ll show you the meaning of pain.”
He nodded, the blood draining from his face as she spoke. It was Madi, his ex-wife, but it wasn’t.
“Now, answer my question. Did you know they would kill Spice?”
Had he known? He racked his brain trying to remember the conversation with Vaas. They were going to kill Alex and Nadia unless he could get his mentor to back off from the investigation… but he only had a few minutes to convince him to do so…
“No, I swear. I didn’t even know either of you were there. I thought she was at a friend’s house. I tried to get you to leave, remember? I tried—I swear I didn’t want this to happen. They’re forcing me. I don’t have a choice, I’m a victim here. You have to believe me!” Henry hated the way he sounded almost as much as he hated the woman in front of him. How had she done this, humiliating him again? It was bad enough she left him after only six months of marriage, but now, here she was making him beg and whimper for his life.
“Okay Henry, I believe you.” She put the gun away by tucking it in her waistband at her lower back. “I’m glad you didn’t know. I haven’t finished my work here. I still haven’t figured out who the head of ISO-1 is here in the city. When I do, I’m going to kill them dead.”
Henry nodded. “That’s great, M… uh that’s great. If I can help, let me know. I’m the DA. I can control the police, direct investigations, you name it,” he said. This was starting to turn around. Maybe this whole debacle would turn out well for him after all.
“Thanks, Henry. I appreciate that. It’s really important they not know who I am, okay? Don’t tell anyone we’ve met. Can I trust you?”
He nodded emphatically. “Yes, of course. I promise. I don’t even have their number; they call me when they want something.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you weren’t a part of it. Goodbye Henry, I don’t think we’ll meet again.” She turned and walked out the door.
Henry leaped up and ran after her, calling her name, but by the time he got to the door she was gone. He searched the house: every room, every closet, the basement, everywhere. She was gone.
When he got back to his office he sat down in his expensive chair and ran a hand over his head. He was sweating, whether from the fear or the exertion he didn’t know. What he did know was this was his shot. He could get ISO off his back for good and be a partner instead of a servant. This was perfect. That stupid wench bought everything he said, hook line and sinker.
He retrieved his phone; it had finished powering up a while ago. It unlocked with a touch of his finger and he opened his contacts and found Vaas’s private number. It was listed as “Hotel Concierge” so if anyone looked through his contacts, they wouldn’t find it. He leaned back in the chair, hit the call and speaker button and tossed the phone on his desk.
This was it. Time for Henry to shine. Visions of yachts and fancy cars filled his head.
The phone rang through the speaker. Then another p
hone rang behind him. Puzzled he turned the chair around to see what was making the noise.
Sitting on the trophy mantle behind him, with all his high school and college sports trophies, was a small box. He recognized the box; he’d given Madi her wedding ring in an elaborate box just like that one. It was the size of a shoe box and he’d made her dig through it to find the ring.
He lifted the lid off the box and stood-up to look inside. A phone covered in blood lay on top of four brown bricks. Both phones rang a fourth time.
Bricks of… oh no!
He spun around to cancel the call—
♦♦♦
I wanted to feel something… maybe sorry? As his house exploded, I wasn’t sorry at all. He lied to me through the whole conversation. The only thing he said that was the truth was that he really did try and get me and Spice to leave. Watching his house burn didn’t make me feel better, but it certainly didn’t make me feel worse.
“You should have just killed him yourself,” Spice said from the passenger seat. “Then we could have enjoyed the meal.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I said as I started the car. At least Henry drove an Audi; it wasn’t as loud or boisterous as the Hellcat, but it handled nicely and was worth a pretty penny.
“Now what?” Spice asked.
“You don’t know?”
She shrugged. “I told you, I can’t read your mind.”
“I have one more loose end to tie up.
Fifteen minutes later I parked in Kenner next to the restaurant I had stayed at. I ducked out of the car, careful to avoid being seen, and made my way through the outside entrance to my little apartment. I had some clothes there I wanted, and I needed to talk to the owners before I left.
All my things were dumped on the bed; it looked like they had gone through my stuff after I left.
Figures.
I hadn’t left anything of value, just clothes. Clothes I liked, though. I stuffed everything back into my suitcase, closed it and headed out down to the restaurant. Alessandro’s loud angry voice echoed up the stairs. After the damage to the building I imagined they wouldn’t be opening again anytime soon. That was part of the reason I was here. They may have betrayed me, but I wanted to give them a gift before I did what I had to do.
Their argument went silent as I came down the stairs. Alessandro went white as a sheet when I walked into the room. I smiled, trying to reassure them. “It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“Put us through…?” Jahaira asked. “We betrayed you. You saved us and that was how we repaid you.” It was obvious she’d spent the night crying. I gave her a small sad smile.
“I’m sorry about the damage to the restaurant. I have this for you, if you want it.” I pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Twenty-thousand in total. Her eyes went wide as she took the money. His narrowed.
“What is the catch?” he asked. She slugged him in the shoulder as soon as he spoke.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “No catch, I just wanted to say how sorry I was.”
She looked confused. “Sorry for what?” she asked.
The little bell rang on the front door as it opened, and a woman walked in. “Mama, Papa, I’m back from Columbia!”
I stepped back behind the pillar that separated the dining room.
Jahaira turned to her daughter. “Bonita! Come her and meet the nice woman who rented your room while you were gone.”
I winced at her referring to me as a ‘nice person’ since she was about to hate me. The woman I knew as El Fuego came around the corner. The last time I had seen her she’d set my Mom on fire, followed by my house.
It took her a second to recognize me. Her eyes went wide, and she took a step back. She was probably trying to use her powers, but I wasn’t the same helpless person as last year.
I whipped out Vaas’s silver revolver—a .500 magnum that was far too large to be practical—and pulled the trigger. The bullet shattered her face, knocking her backward over a table. I stepped forward, fired the remaining four rounds into her body, tossed the gun on the bloody mess that used to be a human being, and walked out the front door.
I felt bad for Jahaira; she was a nice lady.
So was my Mom.
Epilogue
Epilogue
Where to next?” Krisan asked as I got out of the car at the warehouse where she asked me to meet her.
“Belize City; time to deal with the rest of ISO. For good.”
She smiled as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. As always, she had her phone in one hand. Now I knew why.
“Then I have something you’ll want to see. I have to say, I’m pretty proud of this. I didn’t know how exciting it would be to buy black market weapons!”
Dealing with scum to buy weapons wasn’t the best idea, but at the same time, I needed weapons to fight the really evil folks. As crimes went, I put murder and rape as the worst. Arms dealing was something that could wait until I was finished with ISO.
I followed Krisan through the door. She turned the lights on, which I didn’t need but she did, and yelled. “Ta-da!”
I whistled. She had outdone herself. I looked over at her and smiled. “When you said you wanted to help, I had no idea.”
“Did I do good?” she asked.
I walked into the room full of weapons: from sniper rifles to pistols, boxes and boxes of ammo, mannequins with armor on them—everything I would ever need to fight my one-woman war against organized crime.
In the back of the room, painted a deep red that looked far more subdued than the car could handle, was a Dodge Hellcat.
“You really liked that car, so I got you another.”
I was going to ask how she pulled this off, considering I only had eighty thousand to my name, but I decided against it. The less I knew the better.
I let out a whistle as I looked around at the seemingly endless array of weapons. A phrase from one of the history books Joseph made me read popped in my head, and it felt right.
"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum,” I said.
Krisan laughed and waved at the weapons. “I don’t think this is what the Roman general meant when he said that.”
I shook my head. “This is exactly what he meant. If you want peace, prepare for war. War is upon us, it has been for years. Now it’s time we start winning it.”
I picked up a Skorpion just like the one I used in Detroit and pulled the slide back.
Yeah, this will do nicely. Time to put the fear of God in these people.
UNTIL NEXT TIME…
Afterword
You can find Jeffery and his books in the following places:
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Email: [email protected]
I love talking to fans about superheroes. Please come by and drop me a line! All my superhero books are series, so be on the look out for the next one! Welcome to the Full Metal Superverse!
THE WRAITH: GUERRILLA WARFARE
Superhero by Night Book 3
The Wraith: Guerrilla Warfare © 2019 by Jeffery H. Haskell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by www.VividCovers.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Jeffery H. Haskell
Visit my website at www
.jefferyhhaskell.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Published: April 2019
Molten Press
ISBN: 9781095801451
Writing can turn the nicest guy into a real pain in the neck. Thank you to everyone who puts up with me the week before release.
Chapter 1
Ten years ago...
Madisun hustled through the crowd, dodging errant backpacks and grabby hands as she pushed her way to the front of the line. This was her shot. She was already accepted to St. John’s in New York, but that wouldn’t be her career.
This would.
This was New York’s fashion week, the annual event where agencies showed off new fashions to the press and the general public.
She was dressed to kill, in a deep-cut sweater that also curved around her waist to show off her low-rise skinny jeans.
Somewhere behind the crowd, her new boyfriend cheered her on. Occasionally, she heard Henry’s deep voice ring out in encouragement.
If there was one thing Madi knew about, it was makeup and fashion.
On the other side of the barrier were four of the fashion world’s top agents. Any one of them could kick start her career; all she needed to do was impress them. She wasn’t the only tall, good looking girl here, though. Hundreds lined the rope and every one of them was as pretty as the next—but a model wasn’t just pretty.
Superhero by Night Omnibus Page 31
