by Mason Dakota
“But what about the Justicars? Why not trust them to solve the crisis? We don’t have to work alone,” said Alison. I know she came from a place of concern for both me and Evelyn. She saw every day the effects of the danger I faced when looking at Chamberlain, and had stitched me up too many times to count. I didn’t discredit her love for all of us with her begging for another way.
“Even Lorre doesn’t trust them,” I said.
“But you trust him?” asked Gabriel.
“Right now? Yes. More than I trust you. He was the one who let me out of that hospital bed months ago and informed us about the virus to begin with.”
“And the one who would kill you if he knew your true identity,” said Michael.
“We can’t always pick who we work with.”
“Unfortunately,” Thomas mumbled under his breath. He looked at Gabriel. Gabriel didn’t seem to notice as he glanced at Michael, who avoided Gabriel’s eye.
“If we are finished chatting,” I stressed—my patience running thin—, “I am off to meet with Jeremiah Lorre to discuss what I have learned. So, goodnight. I’ll see you all tomorrow at the wedding.” I didn’t wait for a reply or a plea to continue the exhausting conversation. I walked out the door. Chamberlain and Alison called me back, but their attempts fell on deaf ears.
I was tired of fighting with friends. I had a killer to catch.
Twenty-Six
Lorre entered his apartment carrying groceries under the crook of his arm and shut the door behind him and locked it. He never saw me in the shadows. I watched as he put down the bag and struck a match to light a lamp.
“Hello, Lorre,” I finally whispered. Lorre jumped back and drew his gun. He aimed it right at my chest.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?” he quickly barked. Despite the alcohol I smelled on his breath, his hand never shook holding the gun.
I stepped from behind his leather recliner and moved into his candle light. I tipped the edge of my fedora to him and said, “Forgotten me already, Lorre? I’m crushed.”
He didn’t lower the gun. He glared at me with those cold eyes, and I wondered if he would shoot me despite knowing who I was and our agreement to work together. I suddenly felt like this was a mistake.
“I ought to shoot you for breaking and entering,” he growled.
“But you won’t,” I said and hoped. “You’re still a good cop at heart. You won’t kill a man who isn’t trying to harm anyone.” I sounded maybe a bit too smug.
He made a noise that sounded like a wolf’s snarl before he asked, “What are you doing here?” He still held the gun aimed at my chest.
“I needed to speak with you, Lorre. Could you please lower your gun? Can’t we act civilly toward one another?”
He ignored my request. He didn’t trust me and for good reasons. I’m the criminal that strangled and killed his former partner. It didn’t matter that his partner was a dirty cop or that we were working together now to save the city. I’m still a criminal and he is still a cop, with or without the badge.
I am the enemy in his eyes.
We stared at each other for several seconds. I sensed his desire to pull that trigger. It didn’t matter how many times I stared down the barrel of a gun. It never got easier. I was thankful to be wearing my mask. Finally he sighed and lowered the pistol to his side, but didn’t holster it. His trust only went so far.
I could work with that.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I asked.
He grunted as he walked about the room to light the candles outside my striking range. Out of fear that Lorre might shoot me, I didn’t move. I instead focused my attention on the photographs on his walls.
“What do you want, Shaman?”
I didn’t answer. There was a picture of Lorre crouched down hugging a little girl in a pink dress that held my attention. She had to be at least six in the photograph. Lorre actually had a smile on his face in the photo. He seemed so happy and full of life. So unlike the Lorre I knew. “Who’s the little girl?”
Lorre didn’t glance over to see which picture. He didn’t need to. None of the other photographs had a little girl in them. A flash of heart breaking despair consumed Lorre’s face and he ducked his head trying to hide it. I instantly regretted the question. For a man filled with so much hate and rage, despair seemed alien. I felt strangely sick for causing it.
“That’s my niece,” he whispered, “She and her mother were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver six months ago during the city’s panic. The other driver fled the scene. Nobody stopped to help them.” He takes a long pause, choking back his emotions. “They wanted me to take them somewhere safe. I told them to wait for me until I finished seeing someone at the hospital. They didn’t want to wait that long.”
It took all my willpower to appear unaffected by Lorre’s story. A dark pit twisted in my gut. It burned and scorched a path from my throat to my knees. Anxiety sucked me deeper into the pit and I wanted to scream, but no sound left my lips as I plummeted further and further into the heartache.
Lorre went to that hospital to see me. After Gabriel left me handcuffed to that hospital bed, Lorre released me. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t want me to die there and not get a chance to say goodbye to my friends. Because he saved my life, those whom he cherished died.
It should have been me who died.
Lorre is another who has paid for my failures.
I may not have killed them, but I played a part in their deaths. Silent and still like a tree, I watched Lorre pull a bottle of whiskey out of a cabinet and pour a large glass for himself. He downed the glass and refilled it. I knew a man with no surviving family when I saw one. Lorre was all alone with nothing to keep him company except demons and rage.
I did this to him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“I don’t want your pity.”
That is why he hates me more than anyone else. It wasn’t because of his partner. It was more personal than that. I took away his family, his identity, the only joy he had and gave nothing back in exchange. He trusted in Shaman, and trusted poorly.
One small decision with immeasurable consequences.
I whispered, “I went to the hospital. I saw the patients for myself.”
“And?” He sipped on his second glass of whiskey. The aroma filled the small apartment.
“Horrifying,” I said. The images of their bodies flashed through my mind. Even in a heavy coat and scarf, I felt a cold shiver climb my spine.
God save me if that ever happens to me.
Lorre just nodded as though recollecting his own time with the patients. He took another large sip of the whiskey, likely to wash down the memory.
“What have you learned since we last met?” I asked him.
Lorre turned his eyes on me. He shrugged, masking his own intelligence and interest. “They were victims, not people who contracted some disease. Evidence suggests foul play. Someone’s trying to spread the virus…or testing it still.”
I nodded in agreement. “Practice runs before the main act.”
“Which is?” asked Lorre.
I swallowed. “The Emperor is coming with leaders across the globe to discuss international peace relations.”
Lorre scoffed. “Peace talks? More like governments begging the Emperor not to invade them next.”
So Lorre doesn’t support the Empire’s crusades. Interesting coming from a Noble.
“It’ll be the perfect place to infect a lot of people.”
Even in the light of a few candles, Lorre’s face lost its color. His eyes widened and his hands trembled as he understood what was happening. “We’re talking about global genocide. God help us. Tell me you’ve got a lead.”
Telling Lorre about my father would be unwise. He would only come after me and waste our time in the investigation. But he still needed someone to look into and thankfully I had a name.
“Tempest Raven.”
Lor
re grabbed a pen and notepad off his kitchen counter and scribbled down the name. He then looked up and said, “What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s an assassin for the Outcast Legion. Very dangerous. He once worked with Ziavir Yiros.”
Lorre cursed under his breath and asked, “Those guys are back?” He was just as afraid of Ziavir as me.
“No. Raven defected from them years ago to join the Legion.”
Lorre shook his head. “They’re psychopaths. Noble-killers. We’re talking about public shootings and bombings of Noble segregated locations around the globe. This would be the first time they’ve come to Chicago. This will put the city on high alert.”
“Which means they will be looking to make a statement for their cause. A big one and quickly.”
“And if the Emperor really is coming to town…”
“Things will get bloody,” I said.
Lorre finished scribbling his notes before ripping out the page and stuffing it into his pocket. He drowned the last of his whiskey in a single gulp, slammed the glass down, and said, “I’ll pass this along to the rest of the Justicars. If this man is here and behind this, he will have nowhere to hide. We’ll sniff him out and the rest of his Legion friends.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if I just put a target on Lorre’s back for this.
“No time to wait. We start tonight. They are probably using Chicago’s criminal underworld to hide their tracks. Know anyone who can help with this?”
“You’re a criminal. Aren’t you familiar enough with the underworld to find out?” Lorre asked.
“I’m a criminal who steals from and beats up worse criminals.”
Lorre scoffed as he picked things up from around the apartment in preparation to head out into the streets. “I know a guy who can help us. His name’s Lenny. He’s a low-level criminal arrested on countless petty crimes over the years. Works as a snitch for the NPFC and the Justicars.”
“Can he be trusted?”
Again, Lorre scoffed.
“Do you know where we can find him?”
“The Justicars hid him away in the Tubes. I know where.”
“Will he talk?”
Lorre smiled for the first time. “Might take a bit of persuasion.”
Twenty-Seven
With a loud smack, Lorre threw Lenny against the stone wall. Lenny groaned and I felt sorry for him. Almost. Lenny was a small-time criminal with, a history of minor charges that amounted to hanging out with the wrong crowd.
As a Noble he had been in and out of correctional facilities on multiple occasions, often getting his sentences cut short because he snitched on fellow criminals.
He was small for a Noble, with a face that reminded me of a mouse. His hands shook more out of drug withdrawal than actual fear of Lorre and me. Larger criminals loved people like Lenny. The Lenny types were easy to manipulate, and as long as no one scarier came along they were loyal.
Lenny was a pilot fish swimming with great whites.
Cops loved crooks like Lenny because they are perfect snitches.
“Hey Lenny, nice catching you out here in the Tubes,” said Lorre.
The Tubes were the underground tunnel network of the former subway system. When the EMP wiped out Chicago’s electricity grid, the subway system and its tunnels became obsolete. The tunnels quickly filled up with the homeless who were dodging the weather and criminal gangs who were dodging the law. The Tubes were dangerous. The law did not reach down here. The Tubes were the battle ground for the mob and Sabols. Take a wrong turn down there in the dark and not only could you be lost for days, but you also might find yourself at the mercy of some very callous individuals.
“Let me go, Lorre! If they catch me with you I’m a dead man,” begged Lenny as he struggled against Lorre’s grip.
Lorre, keeping Lenny back against the wall, pulled out his pistol and jammed it into Lenny’s gut as he said, “Now tell me why that should bother me, Lenny.”
Lenny gulped and asked, “Please. What’s this about, Lorre? What do you want?”
“You’re a resourceful guy, Lenny. You hear and pick up things down in the Tubes. I’m here to collect some information.”
Lenny gulped once more and looked over toward me, “And him? Why is he here? What does he want?”
Since he couldn’t see my face behind the mask I tilted my head and played with my knife. Lorre slapped Lenny across the cheek and said, “Hey! Don’t mind him, Lenny. I’m the one talking to you. He wants what I want. I think you should know he’s not as friendly as I am.”
“Do I? He broke my wrist and then my ankle last time we met,” squealed Lenny.
I laughed and pointed the knife at Lenny. “Yes, I remember!” I didn’t. But Lenny didn’t need to know that.
“So, Lenny, you either cooperate with me or I let him ask the questions,” Lorre said. I popped my knuckles loud enough for Lenny to hear. His face went white and he trembled.
“The boss wants him dead,” whispered Lenny as if he hoped I wouldn’t be able to hear him.
“And who is your boss now, Lenny?” Lorre asked, “Every week you change loyalty from one scum of the earth to the next.”
This time, despite being pressed against the wall, Lenny puffed out his chest and said with bravado, “I’m part of Chicago’s true defenders now.”
“The Sabols,” growled Lorre. He shoved Lenny again against the wall and Lenny’s chest and pride deflated.
“Yeah. You and your little band of Justicars are next on their list. After we deal with that freak”—he nodded his head toward me—“we’re going to take you down,” said Lenny with small confidence despite his circumstance.
“If that’s true, you wouldn’t want them to come around the corner and see us chatting then, would you? It wouldn’t be good for your reputation.”
As quickly as it had left, Lenny’s fear returned. He shook his head and begged, “Please Lorre, just tell me what you want and let me go.”
Lorre smiled. “We’re looking for someone. Someone who would need resources and a place to lie low and away from watching eyes. They’re new in the area and probably want to be kept to themselves. They’ll be dangerous and suspicious. Know anyone new to town who fits that description?”
Lenny’s face turned white as he nodded. Lorre released him and it wasn’t until then that I realized Lorre had kept Lenny a few inches off the ground. I was impressed. Lenny rubbed at his neck and said, “The other day there were these two fellas, both Outcasts, who approached the boss about a deal.”
“What sort of deal?” I interjected. It startled Lenny.
He swallowed. “They would pay the boss a lot of money for one of his safe houses, resources, and the agreement that the boss would be more aggressive in hunting…well…you and the rest of the Justicars.”
“You mean the Sabols have been more aggressive lately because they are being paid to?” I asked.
Lenny nodded and cowered a bit more.
They’re using the Sabols as cover for their operation.
“So Rigs gets a big fancy paycheck and all he has to do is provide them a bed and corpses?” asked Lorre.
“Yeah, except they were ordered not to harm some politician—that Outcast one. But Rigs ignored that request and tried to kill the politician. So the rumor is, these two guys kill a few Sabols to show they mean business.”
“How did Rigs respond?” Lorre asked.
“He’s storming their hideout tonight,” said Lenny.
“Where?” I growled like a pit bull.
Lenny told me where in the Tubes and asked, “Can I go now?”
“One last thing,” I whispered. I stepped forward and gently pricked Lenny with my knife. He trembled and I kept the point less than an inch into his skin to draw blood and twisted the knife. He whimpered like a dog. “You’re going to spread a message for me. I want you to tell all your friends that Shaman is coming for Tempest Raven. Can you do that for me?”
“Te—Tempest Raven?
Yeah, I can spread that around.”
“Good,” I purred. I stepped back away from Lenny and shouted, “Leave!” Lenny didn’t wait a second more before he turned tail and bolted away from us.
“Why did you let him go? We could have learned more,” Lorre asked.
“Because we don’t have time for that,” replied Gabriel, stepping out of his hiding place in the shadows. Thomas was with him. Thomas wore a mask to conceal his face. Gabriel didn’t care that Lorre saw him.
Lorre drew his gun and whirled around to face them. “Who are you?”
“They’re with me,” I said, laying a hand on the barrel of Lorre’s gun and lowering it. “They’re on our side.”
“I thought you worked alone.”
“Not tonight.”
“Shaman, we’ve got to go,” said Gabriel as he turned to run in the direction where Lenny told him. Thomas and I moved to follow him. “Wait, let me go get the rest of the Justicars. You’re walking straight into a war zone.”
“He’s right, Lorre. There’s no time to wait. We’ve got to get these guys before they disappear or Rigs gets a hold of them. Go and round up the Justicars. Tell them it’s time to purge the Tubes. Tell them we are hunting a man named Tempest Raven.”
We left Jeremiah Lorre standing alone. I wondered if he would choose to come with us or follow his gut. He never followed.
Twenty-Eight
Lenny sent us down a tunnel where we found a long-abandoned subway train. Its windows were boarded up and the only way to approach it in the tunnel was from one of its two ends. Graffiti decorated the walls of the train and the Tubes, most of it advertising for the Sabols.
At one end, someone had constructed a staircase from cement blocks. Someone had also blocked the gaps on both sides of the train with stacked cement blocks. Chains of tin cans hung from the the tunnels’ ceiling along the sides of the train.
If anyone moved the blocks to squeeze between the train and Tube walls, the jangling cans would alert people inside the train.
We waited outside of the train entrance, far enough away in the darkness to remain undetected. It was unclear if anyone was inside the train. The tunnel was quiet and empty, awaiting a mass of Sabols soon to be heading this way if Lenny could be trusted.
