"Mr. Aeternum?" she asked. When Edgar nodded and motioned her inside, she continued, "I'm Laureth. Barrister Evans sent me."
"I'd say 'pleased to meet you,' but under the circumstances..." he let the attempt at humor trail off.
"No worries, sir," Laureth responded. "May I?" she gestured at the box.
"Of course," Edgar replied, handing it to her. "How much has Evans told you about what you're carrying?"
"Everything, sir. When we find this Campbell woman, I'll be part of the team. We will get your man back, sir; count on it. Personally, I hope the bitch puts up a fight; I'd love to wipe the floor with her sorry ass," she said.
"You and me both, Laureth," Edgar said.
"Understood. I should get moving; the sooner we get these samples typed, the better." Laureth paused, then added, "Barrister Evans said I'd like you. He was right. You'd think with all the enlightenment in society, no one would bat an eye at a female in this line of work. Not so, though. He said you wouldn't even notice; I appreciate that, sir."
"No worries, Laureth," Edgar responded. "I learned long ago that you can't judge a book by its cover."
"Indeed," she said. "I may look like someone's innocent sweetheart, but I know three martial arts, can handle any weapon on the market and have thirty-seven kills under my belt."
"Impressive, but not surprising," Edgar said. "Sometimes Evans has 'special' projects and I know he only hires the best."
"Thank you, sir. Do you need anything before I head out?" she asked.
"No, thanks, Laureth, I'm good," he answered. "Thank you for the help."
"You're welcome," she said. The smile that accompanied her response almost made Edgar feel sorry for Campbell; it reminded him of a jungle cat about to launch at a particularly tasty bit of prey. He nodded and palmed the door open; Laureth left, headed to who-knew-where to have the samples DNA-typed.
Alone again, Edgar put in his earbuddy, changed into a pair of red onion-skin shorts and a white tank-top and headed for the gym in Highland House's basement. Until they knew more, there was nothing for him to do and he needed to burn off some of the excess energy that was driving him mad.
Ten A.M
Evans ended the comm call with the lab he used for more clandestine jobs. The doctor acknowledged receipt of the DNA samples and promised results by two-thirty that afternoon. That handled, Evans turned his attention on preparing to transfer half of Edgar's trust to Campbell's account. Once the prep was done, he could return to other, more pressing matters, such as the search for Campbell's extortion victims.
He'd already selected the rescue team, but couldn't proceed with any further plans until he had Campbell's location. This wouldn't be an easy mission, based on Campbell's history, but it wasn't Evans' first. The barrister didn't make a habit of sharing much personal information with his clients, so Edgar didn't know the man's history.
In his younger, pre-barrister days, Evans' experience with the law had been from the opposing side. He'd worked as a hired gun and not all of his clients were honest, respectable people. He knew such a career couldn't last forever; despite the medical advances of the time, age still slowed certain reflexes and abilities, a potentially fatal flaw in a mercenary.
So, he'd made a later-in-life career change at forty-five and become a barrister. Still, he'd kept his hand in the game and his skills as sharp as possible. He smiled, remembering his early days. Another piece of information he didn't share was his age; he let his clients assume he was sixty-ish, but he was actually a spry eighty-one. Life extension therapy worked wonders and, when one could afford the most expensive top-of-the-line treatments, wonders became miracles.
His smile turned from one of pleasant recollection to cold, hard death. He planned on leading this mission personally; Campbell outsmarted him by missing her shuttle and he like losing even less than she did. The challenge would be convincing Edgar Aeternum to leave the rescue to the professionals. Evans had a feeling the man would want to be included and he didn't need an amateur along for the ride.
Eleven A.M
Maddi's modifications to the injector were complete. All he needed now was an opportunity to use it; unfortunately, he'd not seen Jarvis since his failed escape the night before. He even tried yelling for her, but she was either ignoring him or she was gone. He shuddered thinking about what gruesome supply-run she might be on this time.
He tried to put that thought out of his mind. It didn't help that Ridgely's corpse was still in the room and only smelling worse. On top of which, he was stuck sitting in his own filth, as Jarvis was unconcerned with his comfort and hadn't provided a bedpan. The pain in his knees was becoming worse as the Prozine was wearing off. He hoped beyond hope that his captor would return not just so he had a chance to hit her with the injector, but also because he wanted more painkillers.
The only thoughts that distracted him from his current predicament were those of Edgar and even they were bittersweet. He'd been so strident in his opinion of Edgar's actions, it wouldn't surprise him if the man never wanted to see him again. He held on to hope that Edgar wasn't through with him, that they could continue to explore whatever had begun between them before his kidnapping.
Finally, exhausted from the worsening pain, Maddi drifted off to sleep. The image of snuggling in the candlelight with Edgar, Tina's soulful voice in the background, filled his mind.
Noon
Edgar sat at his desk eating his second sandwich without really tasting it. His impromptu workout took the better part of two hours and left him with shaking limbs. After a long, hot shower, he settled in for lunch while scanning the news. Nothing he read sank in, it was merely distraction.
Evans had given him an update just before lunch; nothing much, except to say that the DNA test were underway and a team had been chosen. Edgar hadn't mentioned to Evans that he intended to be part of that team, but the barrister's almost wary tone suggested that he expected the question and wasn't in favor of the idea.
Edgar wasn't all that concerned with Evans' opinion; the barrister was only doing his job. He had no way of knowing that Edgar had experience in such matters. Why would he? To Evans, Edgar was just another twenty-something rich client, after all.
One P.M.
The woman sat at a small sidewalk table watching the mid-day crowd. The half-eaten blueberry muffin had proven disappointing, but the cafecito was perfect. The rich, strong espresso, brewed with demerara sugar, was so good she was on her third. Most people, the barista included, would've found that amount to be a bit much, but Mariposa Campbell found that the extra caffeine only sharpened her senses. It didn't hurt that it also kept her going, given that she never slept at this point in the game.
She picked up the demitasse cup and inhaled deeply. The rich, sweet smell of the cafecito bringing back childhood memories of her mother's kitchen. Those were good times, right after little Mari, age eleven, had watched her father drown. Of course, that came as a result of her catching him off guard and pushing him off the boat. Mama didn't know that little Mari laughed while Daddy drowned; she thought her little girl was traumatized, but nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Mama survived until little Mari became seventeen year-old Mariposa. Mama couldn't quite accept that her little girl didn't want to follow in her footsteps and become a nurse. She felt that it was a far more appropriate career for a woman than tech officer in the military. Poor Mama; Mariposa almost felt sorry for her, dying alone in an alley, victim of a rare violent crime. Mama never knew that it was her little Mari who'd done the throat-slitting that night.
The barista's return to her table shook her from the old memories. She quickly downed the last swallow of cafecito and ordered a fourth, prompting a surprised eyebrow raise from the young man taking her order. After he left, she stretched, enjoying the sunlight. She was pretty certain that this was her last job. Aeternum would definitely cough up the ransom; there was no way he'd let his pretty little boyfriend die. Even if he only gave her half what sh
e'd asked for, she'd still be rich beyond her wildest dreams. Never mind that the boy was going to die anyway. She never passed up the chance to kill; the rush was better than the best designer drug.
She smiled at the barista as he set the cafecito in front of her. Taking the cup in both hands, she inhaled deeply, once again enjoying the aroma and reflecting upon how much better it was than the smell in Ridgely's house.
Two-thirty-eight P.M.
"What do you have for me, Evans?" Edgar asked.
"Perhaps the best news yet, sir," the barrister replied. "We have conclusive proof that the member is not Mr. Bristow's."
Edgar felt a huge weight lift from just knowing that Maddi hadn't been mutilated. He dropped to the sofa as relief washed through him. They weren't out of the woods yet, but at least there was some good news. "Thank you, Evans," he finally said. "Any luck on the search for her extortion vics?"
"Not yet, sir," Evans answered. "However, I think it's a reasonable assumption that the DNA from Campbell's gift will match her extortion vic. I'm running a discreet check on the DNA with all known medical databases, in case there's a match; that gives us another possible means of finding her."
"Good thinking, Evans," Edgar said. "How are the preparations for transferring the ransom?"
"All we need is your instruction to do it, sir. Once we have that, it'll happen in minutes," Evans answered. "It's my duty to inform you again that it's unlikely she'll let you have Mr. Bristow alive even if you pay her."
"Understood, Evans," Edgar replied. "We'll have to get there first, but it pays to be prepared. Any luck tracing that account number?"
"Agreed. As regards the account number, no luck at all. I'm afraid Miss Campbell is every bit as good at hiding her electronic trail as she says. Not that I'm giving up, of course," the barrister added.
"Of course not," Edgar said. "I know better than that and I'm grateful for your tenacity." Edgar paused and decided now was the time to broach the subject of his being on the rescue team. "One thing... When we find her, I'm going with the team. I may already have lost Maddi as a…" he caught himself and continued, "But I won't lose him his life; I want to be the one to put that bitch in the ground!"
"While I can understand that motivation, sir, Miss Campbell is a very dangerous individual. We will get Mr. Bristow back sir, but I cannot allow you to take that risk. I won't allow it," there was more steel in the barrister's voice than Edgar had ever heard.
"Evans," Edgar said, steel in his own voice, "I shouldn't have to remind you that I'm the client here."
"Indeed you are, sir," Evans said, not backing down. "However, unless you choose to replace me, the matter is not open for discussion. Before you make one of your smart-ass comments about my not wanting to lose your money, that's only a minor consideration."
Edgar was momentarily stunned by Evans' outburst. He stammered, "What did you just...?"
Evans cut him off, "I said there's more than money behind my intent to keep you safe. If you must know, I would miss the rather hefty monthly deposits. However," he continued, "I would miss looking after you even more. I assure you, I could retire a thousand times over on my savings alone; but I don't, because I truly care about my clients. You, in particular, Edgar.
I don't often share personal information with my clients; I prefer to be, simply, 'the barrister'. However, the situation seems to call for it. You see me, by my design, as a man who lives only to work and who enjoys exacting revenge on behalf of my clients. What you don't see is that you are my family. I'm a good barrister, Edgar, but I am a terrible human being; the work is my life. Marriages have failed, children have disowned me, but my clients are always there.
My confession, Edgar, is that you are more a son to me than the two I actually fathered. There's some small amount of envy, too. Your life is carefree and happy, present moment excluded, in ways I've never known. It took me years to realize it, but my happiness always came from my job, from helping people who needed me. Even allowing my somewhat cruel side free rein is mostly satisfying because it feels like I'm protecting my family."
"I don't know what to say, Evans," Edgar said. "Thank you seems so trite, but at the moment, I'm just lost. First Maddi, then this," he paused, "I feel like my world is upside down."
"No worries, sir," Evans was once again the barrister. "We don't have to speak of it again. Just so we're clear on the fact that you're not going on the rescue mission."
"Understood," Edgar said. "End call."
We'll see about that, Mr. Barrister.
Unable to contain his frustration, Edgar dressed for a run. Campbell wasn't hunting him and a hard run through the Park was exactly what he needed, despite the workout earlier.
Nine-thirty-five P.M.
The sound of the door opening roused Maddi from sleep. The first thing that hit him was the pain in his legs; the Prozine had almost completely worn off. The next thing that hit him was the injector of Prozine Jarvis tossed in his lap.
"You probably need some of this by now, I imagine," she said, nose wrinkling in disgust. "The smell in here is atrocious! I don't know what's worse - his dead ass," she gestured at Ridgely, "or your live one. Did you shit yourself?"
Maddi, already dosing himself with painkillers, looked up at her. Between the pain, the anger at her not getting close enough for him to try the modified injector and this insult, he lost his temper. "Don't like the smell? Well, you fucking bitch, you should've thought about that before you butchered him and blew out my fucking knees. Yes, I shit myself! What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Tap dance to the motherfucking bathroom! You are seriously deranged, you sick bitch!"
Jarvis stood, looking at Maddi impassively as he ranted. When he finished, she smiled sweetly and said, "You're a little feisty, aren't you? I'd be careful if I was you, though. If you're not in any condition to toilet yourself, you're certainly in no condition to put up much of a fight. You might want to think about that and keep your opinions to yourself. If I'm right, your boyfriend and his bulldog barrister have figured out that the cock I sent them isn't yours. Don't make me change my mind and send them the real thing."
Maddi opened his mouth to reply but stopped when he saw the mini in her right hand. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to be shot again. Instead, he heard Jarvis issue a command to the HC to purify the air. "It'll help," she said as the unit's vents hissed. "I am getting tired of looking at Mr. Ridgely, too. Tell you what, buttercup, I'll drag his ass into the closet and get you some things to clean yourself. If you can lift yourself, I'll even pull the filthy sheet off the bed. But you better damn well be nice and keep that pretty little mouth shut, okay? If you don't, I'll cut out your fucking tongue."
Realizing how his luck may have finally turned, Maddi opened his eyes and said, "Thank you. I'm sorry I called you names. It's the pain and the horrible smell; I appreciate your help with both." He tried to look sincere without overacting; the look on Jarvis' face seemed to indicate she was buying it. He knew that getting her close enough to the bed to pull the soiled sheet would give him a chance to strike.
"That's more like it," Jarvis said as she moved to Ridgely's corpse and began dragging it to the closet.
CHAPTER 25
Quarter past midnight - last day
Evans' voice held its usual crisp, business-like tone as he informed Edgar of the search results. "It took some doing," he said, "but we know where Campbell and Mr. Bristow are located. She's holed up at the home of one of her former extortion victims, a Mr. Stephen Davies. The team is being dispatched as we speak; we'll have her within the hour. Mr. Bristow will be taken to hospital, of course. I'll handle any questions they may ask."
"Excellent!" Edgar said, excited and relieved to finally have something to do. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"We discussed this, sir. It's too dangerous; you are not to become involved!" the barrister's voice rose.
"Damn it, Evans! He's in this situation because of me; I have to help him!"
"You
are helping him, sir. You're paying me quite handsomely for rescuing him. I assure you, you'll get your time with Miss Campbell if that is your wish. However, you will not be on this mission! End call." The comm line went dead, but it didn't matter. Edgar was already on the move, dressing in black jeans and tee shirt, asking the HC for directions to Mr. Stephen Davies' home.
One-oh-five A.M
Maddi was nearly losing his mind waiting. After Jarvis dumped Ridgely's corpse into the closet, she left the room presumably to get the supplies she promised so Maddi could clean up. However, she didn't come back. He was grateful for the Prozine; at least the pain had receded to a dull ache. As he'd done for the past few hours, he went over his plan again.
When Jarvis came to the head of the bed to pull the sheet from under him, he would raise himself as though to help her. As she bent over the bed, he planned to drop himself and strike at her neck with the injector. He'd need to hold her in place - probably by the hair, he thought - until he'd pumped enough air into her jugular to do the job. It was the last, best hope he had of helping himself.
The door whisked open and Jarvis entered, holding a stack of washcloths and towels in one hand and a small basin of water in the other. She tossed the cloths into Maddi's lap and gently set the basin on the bed next to him. A brief urge to make his move passed quickly as Maddi realized she still wasn't close enough.
"Here you go, stinky," she said. "Hop to it. Try to shift over as you clean so you're not sitting back down in shit. Once you're done, we'll do the sheets." She turned and left the room as Maddi picked up a washcloth.
One-ten A.M
Edgar stood in front of the burned-out shell of Mr. Stephen Davies' home. He confirmed the address three times hoping he'd made an error, but there was no mistake; he was, in fact, at the correct address. The damage to the house was recent, maybe within the last few days, but certainly not from tonight. Part of him was relieved that Maddi hadn't been in the fire, but the rest of his mind seethed with rage.
Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love Page 25
