The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset: 1-6
Page 31
He needed to maintain discretion. He had to be cautious. He had to be selective. He couldn’t leave a trail for Marcus to follow. That would ruin all his plans.
He watched the reflections of the city shimmer across the water for a few moments, and then a man with glasses and spiked hair joined him at the railing.
“Do you have the information?” Ackerman said.
The man’s voice trembled. “Yes.”
“Everything I requested?”
“Yes.”
“Will they know that the files were accessed?”
“I covered my tracks. They won’t be able to trace anything back or even know that I was there. What is this Shepherd Organization anyway?”
“I don’t really know. That’s why I need the files. That’s why I needed you to track them down.”
“Because they’re after you, aren’t they?”
Ackerman chuckled. “Maybe, but I prefer the role of hunter, not hunted. I overheard a couple of old friends mention the Shepherd Organization and that they were in the process of recruiting someone very close to my heart. I was bleeding and strapped to a chair at the time. I didn’t enjoy the experience. Reminded me too much of my childhood. I don’t intend to find myself in that situation again, so I need to know my enemy.”
“Well, their security’s right up there with the Pentagon’s. I’d say they’re some pretty serious government hombres. If I were you, I’d head for the hills.”
“Your concern for my well-being is touching, but I don’t plan on getting caught. That’s why I recruited the best hacker I could find.”
“Recruited?!” The man’s voice cracked. “You—”
“Where are the files?”
The man fumbled in his jacket and held out a portable hard drive.
Ackerman took the drive and admired it. The wonderful device contained all the knowledge he required. He unconsciously reached behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his knife. The act would complete such a glorious moment, but he had to resist the urge to kill his little hacker friend. He still needed the man, and he was better than that now. He was more than just a killer.
Before he had met Marcus, killing had been his only reason to live, his only purpose in life. Now, he had found his true calling, and his mission eclipsed his dark desires.
“You’ll need a password to open the files, and I’m not going to give you that until you release my sister. When she’s safe, I’ll e-mail you the password.”
His gaze burned through the whiny, little man. “Are you dictating the terms of the game to me?”
“I read the files on you. I know how you work. You had no intention of holding up your end of the deal. If I give you that password, my sister and I are both dead.”
“You should keep in mind that there are worse things than death, my friend. If you’ve read the files, then you know that I could make you give me that password. But, well played. Besides, there’s more to me than just a series of reports and tapes. I’ll let you and your sister live as long as you keep your mouth shut about the job you’ve done for me. I’ll release her this evening, but I expect to receive a prompt reply. Also, I’ll be calling on you from time to time. If you run, I will find you. From now on, I won’t bother your sister. As long as you do a good job, you won’t have anything to fear from me. Is that acceptable to you?”
The man nodded like a bobblehead doll on a bumpy road.
“Do you have the phone number I requested?”
The man fumbled in his jacket again and removed a small piece of paper.
He snatched the paper from the hacker’s hand and verified that he could read the man’s chicken scratches. He waved his hand. “You’re dismissed.”
“What about—”
“Go. Before I change my mind.”
The man scurried away.
Ackerman removed the cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number from the small sheet of paper.
“Hello?” the voice on the end of the line said.
His heart raced. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sound of that voice.
“Who is this?”
“Hello, Marcus. Have you missed me?”
Silence.
“I wish that I could have seen your face when they told you that they couldn’t find my remains among the ashes. In the future, you’ll need to realize that I always have a backup plan. The service tunnel that connected the new building to the old section of the hospital allowed my disappearing act to seem quite convincing, didn’t it?”
“I’m going to find you.”
“I love a challenge.”
“How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways, but that’s not important. I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you’re busy with the new job and all, but I just wanted to say hello. Let you know that I miss you and that I’m thinking of you. I’m so happy for both of us. We’ve realized our destinies. Most people search their whole lives and never know what we know. We know the meaning of our existence. You have become the hero that you were always meant to be. But during our last confrontation, I realized that you still need me. You haven’t reached your full potential just yet. You will need to be tested and tried. And that’s where I come in. I’ve got such big plans for us. After all, every hero needs a villain.”
He closed the phone, pulled the battery, and tossed both halves of the device into the water. Then, the corners of Francis Ackerman’s mouth slowly turned up into a wide grin.
Let the games begin.
I AM FEAR
Ethan Cross
An Aries book
www.headofzeus.com
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Day One – December 15 Evening
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Day Two – December 16 Morning
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Day Two – December 16 Afternoon
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Day Two – December 16 Evening
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Day Three – December 17 Morning
Chapter 11
Day Three – December 17 Evening
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Day Four – December 18 Morning
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Day Four – December 18 Afternoon
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Day Four – December 18 Evening
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Day Five – December 19 Morning
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Day Five – December 19 Afternoon
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Day Five – December 19 Evening
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Day Six – December 20 Morning
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Day Six – December 20 Afternoon
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Day Six – December 20 Evening
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Day Seven – December 21 Morning
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Day Seven – December 21 Afternoon
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Day Seven – December 21 Evening
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Day Eight – December 22 Morning
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Day Eight – December 22 Afternoon
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
1
Francis Ackerman Jr. stared out the window of the dark copper and white bungalow on Macarthur Boulevard. Across the street, a green sign with yellow letters read Mosswood Playground – Oakland Recreation Department. Children laughed and played while mothers and fathers pushed swings and sat on benches reading paperback novels or fiddling with cell phones. He had never experienced such things as a child. The only games his father had ever played were the kind that scarred the body and soul. The young Ackerman had never been nurtured; he had never been loved. But he had come to accept that. He had found purpose and meaning born from the pain and chaos that had consumed his life.
He watched the sun reflect off all the smiling faces and imagined how different the scene would be if the sun suddenly burned out and fell from the heavens. The cleansing cold of an everlasting winter would sweep across the land, sterilizing it, purifying it. He pictured the faces forever etched in torment, their screams silent, and their eyes like crystal balls reflecting what lay beyond death.
He let out a long sigh. It would be beautiful. He wondered if normal people ever thought of such things. He wondered if they ever found beauty in death.
Ackerman turned back to the three people bound to chairs in the room behind him. The first two were men—plain-clothes cops that had been watching the house. The older officer had a pencil-thin mustache and thinning brown hair while his younger counterpart’s head was topped with a greasy mop of dark black. The younger man’s bushy eyebrows matched his hair, and a hooked nose sat above thin pink lips and a recessed chin. The first man struck Ackerman to be like any other cop he had met, honest and hard-working. But there was something about the younger man that he didn’t like, something in his eyes. He suppressed the urge to smack the condescending little snarl from the younger cop’s ferret-like face.
But, instead of hitting him, Ackerman just smiled at the cop. He needed a demonstration to get the information he wanted, and the ferret would be perfect. His eyes held the ferret’s gaze a moment longer, and then he winked and turned to the last of his three captives.
Rosemary Phillips wore a faded Oakland Raiders sweatshirt. She had salt-and-pepper hair, and ancient pockmarks marred her smooth dark-chocolate complexion. Her eyes burned with a self-assurance and inner strength that Ackerman respected.
Unfortunately, he needed to find her grandson, and if necessary, he would kill all three of them to accomplish his goal.
He reached up to her mouth and pulled down the gag. She didn’t scream. “Hello, Rosemary. I apologize that I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier when I tied you up, but my name is Francis Ackerman Jr. Have you ever heard of me?”
Rosemary met his gaze. “I’ve seen you on television. You’re the serial killer whose father experimented on him as a child, trying to prove that he could create a monster. I guess he succeeded. But I’m not afraid of you.”
Ackerman smiled. “That’s wonderful. It means that I can skip the introductions and get straight to the point. Do you know why I asked these two gentlemen to join us?”
Rosemary’s head swiveled toward the two officers. Her gaze lingered on the ferret. Ackerman saw disgust in her eyes. Apparently, she didn’t like him either. That would make things even more interesting once he started to torture the young cop.
“I’ve seen these two around,” she said. “I’ve already told the cops that my grandson ain’t no damn fool. He wouldn’t just show up here, and I haven’t heard from him since this mess started. But they wouldn’t listen. Apparently they think it’s a good idea to stake out an old lady’s house instead of being out there on the streets doing what the people of this city pay them to do. Typical government at work.”
Ackerman smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve never had much respect for authority. But, you see, I’m looking for your grandson as well. I, however, don’t have the time or patience to sit around here on the off chance that he might show up. I prefer the direct approach, and so I’m going to ask you to level with me. Where can I find your grandson?”
“Like I told them, I have no idea.”
He walked over to a tall mahogany hutch resting against the wall. It was old and well built. Family pictures lined its surface and shelves. He picked up a picture of a smiling young black man with his arm around Rosemary. A blue and gold birthday cake sat in front of them. “Rosemary, I’ve done my homework, and I’ve learned that your grandson thinks the world of you. You were his anchor in the storm. Maybe the one good thing in his life. The one person who loved him. You know where he’s hiding, and you are going to share that information with me. One way or another.”
“Why do you even care? What’s he to you?”
“He’s nothing to me. I could care less about your grandson. But someone that I do care about is looking for him, and I try to be useful where I can. And, like you said, sometimes bureaucracy and red tape are just too damn slow. We’re going to speed along the process.”
Rosemary shook her head and tugged on the ropes. “I don’t know where he is, and if I did, I’d never tell a monster like you.”
His father’s words tumbled through his mind.
You’re a monster … Kill her and the pain will stop … No one will ever love you …
“Oh, my dear, words hurt. But you’re right. I am a monster.”
Ackerman grabbed a duffle bag from the floor and tossed it onto a small end table. As he unzipped the bag and rifled through the contents, he said, “Are you familiar with the Spanish Inquisition? I’ve been reading a lot about it lately. It’s a fascin-ating period of history. The Inquisition was basically a tribunal established by the
Catholic monarchs Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile in order to maintain Catholic orthodoxy within their kingdoms, especially among the new converts from Judaism and Islam. But that’s not what fascinates me. What fascinates me are the unspeakable acts of barbarism and torture that were carried out in the name of God upon those deemed to be heretics. We think that we live in a brutal age, but our memories are very short-sighted. Any true student of history can tell you that this is the age of enligthenment compared with other periods throughout time. The things the Inquisitors did to wrench confessions from their victims were nothing less than extraordinary. Those Inquisitors displayed fabulous imagination.”
Ackerman brought a strange device up out of the duffle bag. “This is an antique. Its previous owner claimed that it’s an exact replica of one used during the Inquisition. You’ve got to love eBay.”
He held up the device—made from two large, spiked blocks of wood connected by two threaded metal rods an inch in diameter each—for their inspection. “This was referred to as the Knee Splitter. Although it was used on more than just knees. When the Inquisitor turned these screws, the two blocks would push closer together and the spikes would first pierce the flesh of the victim. Then the Inquisitor would continue to twist the screws tighter and tighter until they received the answers they wanted or until the affected appendage was rendered useless.”
Rosemary spat at him. As she spoke, her words were strong and confident. He detected a slight hint of a Georgia accent and suspected that it was from her youth and only presented itself when she was especially flustered. “You’re going to kill us anyway. No matter what I do. I can’t save these men anymore than I can save myself. The only thing that I can control is the way that I go out. And I won’t grovel and beg to the likes of you. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
Ackerman nodded. “I respect that. So many people blame the world or society or others for the way that they are. But we’re all victims of circumstance to a certain extent. We like to think that we’re in control of our own destinies, but the truth is that much of our lives is dictated by forces far beyond our control and comprehension. We all have our strings pulled by someone or something. It’s unavoidable. The only place that we have any real control is right here.” He tapped the tip of his fifteen-inch survival knife against his right temple. “Within our minds. Most people don’t understand that, but you do. I didn’t come here to kill you, Rosemary. It will give me no pleasure to remove you from the world. But my strings get pulled just like everyone else’s. In this case, circumstances dictate that I hurt you and these men in order to achieve my goal. I’m good at what I do, my dear. I’ve been schooled in pain and suffering my entire life. Time will only allow me to share a small portion of my expertise with you, but I can tell you that it will be enough. You will tell me. That’s beyond your control. The only aspect of this situation that you can influence is the duration of the suffering you must endure. So I’ll ask again: where is your grandson?”