Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller

by Stacey Fields

  “Stop right there!” Mark Lewis warned. This was the first time Michael had seen Hamilton’s partner in the flesh. He was an older man, balding, with pasty white skin, and light blue, tired looking eyes.

  “I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Michael said to him. “Right now, I want to talk to your partner.” Michael and Gloria continued their slow advance down the hall. “Besides, I’m not the murderer here, I believe that’s the two of you,” Michael added.

  “You don’t have any proof!” Hamilton exclaimed, still pointing the gun at Michael.

  “I don’t need it,” Michael countered. “Because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be giving me a full confession.”

  “Not likely,” Mark Lewis said, shifting his weight around. A loud bang rang out, and Michael stopped suddenly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

  Lewis was on the ground, his shoulder bleeding profusely. His gun was on the ground next to him, and as he reached for it, Michael heard Gloria demand, “leave it there!”

  “What just happened?” Michael asked, turning to look at her. She was holding her gun out in front of her, pointing it directly at Lewis.

  “I thought he was going to shoot!” she defended her actions. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Lewis reach for his gun again. Aiming his own at the ground just to the left of where his hand was heading, he let another shot ring out. Lewis pulled back quickly and scooted himself away from the gun, holding his hands in the air.

  “Where were we?” Michael said turning his attention back to Derek Hamilton. His eyes were filled with fear, and he dropped his gun to his side quickly. He leaned forward, placing it on the ground and sliding it in Michael’s direction. “Right,” Michael said setting his foot on top of it. “Gloria, pick it up,” he ordered her.

  She complied, leaning down to grab it, then standing up and holding it out in front of her, along with the gun she was already holding. She pointed one at Hamilton, and one at Lewis. “Now what?” Mickey asked.

  “Now, we talk,” Michael said, pushing him forward. Mark pushed himself up to his feet and followed Derek back into the sitting room. Before pushing Mickey into the room, Michael paused briefly to retrieve Lewis’ gun from the floor before leading his hostages over to the large fireplace. “Sit,” he ordered them.

  They did, and Michael led Mickey over to the desk, guiding him to the chair and ordered him to pull it over to where the other two were seated. When everyone was in their place, Michael began his questioning.

  “This is what I know so far,” he started. “I know that The Lords were getting their drug supply from Meditech Pharmaceutical. They were using Gloria here as a mule, and laundering the money they made at various locations around the city.”

  “I really don’t need to be here for this,” Mickey said. “I’m just an honest businessman who did nothing more than the job I was hired to do.”

  “I know,” Michael conceded. “But still, why don’t you stick around for the show either way.” He turned his focus back to the two lawyers. “I also know that one of the employees at Meditech was in on the negotiations, and he made regular calls to your office from a payphone in the strip mall where his girlfriend worked. What happened next is more my assumption, since I can’t be sure. So, I’m going to go ahead and just spitball a few ideas, and you guys can fill in the blanks as I go, alright?”

  They looked up at him blankly, and didn’t say anything. “Alright?” Michael yelled down at them. Hamilton jumped in his seat slightly, and Lewis hugged his shoulder tighter.

  “Alright,” they agreed in unison.

  “Great,” Michael continued. “Well, Rachel and Joy figured out that something was going on, am I right?”

  They nodded, confirming his suspicions.

  “I’m guessing that somehow Hamilton & Lewis was taking a cut from the drug money. But what I can’t figure out is how, or why?” They remained silent. “Derek,” he said walking over and standing in front of him. “Why don’t you take this one?”

  “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it did,” he started.

  “What?” Michael asked.

  “Meditech is one of our clients,” Derek explained, not looking up at Michael, but keeping his gaze fixed on the ground between them. “We found some discrepancies in their numbers. Their profit margins were off.”

  “And when did you stumble upon this information?”

  “I don’t know, about a year and half ago,” Derek said shrugging his shoulders.

  “That’s when I started dating Glen,” Gloria confirmed. “That’s when he started having me take the drugs to my brother.”

  “And like good, law-abiding citizens, you took that information to the police, right?” Michael asked with a smile.

  “We called Meditech,” Derek continued. “And we met with Henry. He came clean pretty quickly, but offered us a cut of the profit if we kept our mouths shut. And he said we could have an even bigger cut if we helped them cook the books and make it look legal.”

  “All of this happened because you wanted to line your pockets with more money?” Michael accused them. “Two women are dead because of your greed!”

  “They shouldn’t have been snooping around,” Lewis said under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” Michael said turning to him.

  “They should have left well enough alone,” he replied. “But they didn’t. They figured it out, all of it—pretty quickly, actually. A hell of a lot quicker than you.”

  “So you had to kill them?”

  “You know, maybe if that son of a bitch, gun crazy gang member hadn’t shot and killed a cop, we wouldn’t have had to go to such drastic measures,” Lewis continued speaking.

  “It was already so messy,” Hamilton whimpered.

  “So, to keep the cops from knowing that you weren’t only involved in an illegal drug operation, but one that had led to a police fatality, you had to take the lives of two innocent women?”

  “One of them, at least,” Lewis said, staring up at him with an empty expression. It was clear that he felt no remorse for what he had done, or for the pain he had caused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s surprising, actually, how easy it is to manipulate someone,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “Of course when Rachel turned up dead, Joy pieced it together; she knew why Rachel had to go and she knew she would be next.”

  “But why wait so long?”

  “You see, Mr. Kent. You were wrong about us, before. We’re not murders; we’re simply businessmen, just like Mickey.”

  “Don’t you drag me back into this!” Mickey yelled out.

  “We didn’t want the publicity or the attention. So, we simply went to have a little talk with Joy. We told her how direly important it was that she kept her damn mouth shut. We told her to think about her son, and how hard his life would be growing up without his mother.”

  “You heartless bastards!” Michael yelled out, lifting his gun again and pointing it at Lewis.

  “Heartless?” he asked, staring at the gun without the least hint of worry or fear in his eye. “I just told you, we let her live. Until we didn’t.”

  “Why?” Michael asked, shaking the gun at him. “Why did you kill her, then?”

  “The problem with entering into business agreements with people is that their enemies suddenly become your enemies. Well, The Lords and their partners The East Side Kings had a little run in with this other group,” Lewis continued to speak.

  “The Underground Mafia,” Michael concluded.

  “Very good,” Lewis said to him tauntingly. “Well, when the Mafia wanted to find and destroy the source of the Lords’ new drug, we had to make sure that no loose strings were out there, for them to potentially pull and in turn unravel our entire operation.”

  “So, you killed Joy to keep the Underground Mafia from getting to her? From getting the information out of her?”

  “We did her a favor, really. It would have been much worse
for her if they had gotten their hands on her. All we did was give her a little injection, which shows up on toxicology reports as alcohol, and wait until she got in her car to drive herself home.”

  “That’s it,” Michael said softly, letting out a deep sigh. He had it, finally. He had the answers. Rachel and Joy had discovered that their bosses were working with a pharmaceutical company that was partnered with a gang to make and distribute illegal drugs—the same gang that was responsible for the death of Lindsey’s partner.

  “What would the Underground Mafia have done to her?” Michael asked, letting the feeling of relief that came with getting answers become replaced by one of panic as he remembered that they were still holding Lindsey hostage.

  “Like I said, Michael. We’re not murders—but they most definitely are,” Lewis said, his words sending a shiver down Michael’s spine.

  Chapter 19: Too Soon to Celebrate

  Michael retrieved his phone and his own gun from the top drawer of Mickey’s desk. As he did, he tossed Gloria her belongings as well. “I need to go,” he said to her quickly.

  “What?” she asked, surprised and worried.

  “What time is it?” he asked her.

  “It’s almost 5:00 in the morning,” she answered.

  “What?” he asked staring down at his phone. “We were in that room overnight?”

  “I guess so,” she said.

  “I still have three hours,” he said to himself, shoving his phone and gun back in their usual places.

  “You can’t leave me here with them!” Gloria exclaimed, watching him carefully.

  “Do me a favor, will you?” he asked her.

  “What?”

  “Call the cops.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ll hang around for a little longer, wait for them to get close, but then I have to go.”

  “What do I tell them?” she hurried over to where he was standing. “I don’t want to be here when they get here, either!”

  “I don’t know; make something up! Say you’re a neighbor or something and that you heard gunshots.”

  “Then what do I do?”

  “I don’t really care,” he said. “Oh, but after you call the cops, you should probably call your boss. He’s expecting an update on granny, remember.”

  “Ugh,” she let out a frustrated groan before unlocking her phone and dialing 9-1-1. Michael paced back and forth in front of the three men, waiting for Gloria to finish her call.

  “Hello,” she said into the speaker in a high-pitched voice, higher-pitched than her normal one. “I’m calling because I think I heard gunshots next door!” she tried to make her tone sound urgent. “The address?” she asked looking at Michael with an expression of panic.

  He pointed the gun a Mickey and nudged him until he reluctantly gave her the address. She repeated it into the phone and gave Michael a thumbs up. “Please hurry!” she exclaimed. “I can hear someone yelling! I think someone’s hurt! Oh God! It’s bad!” she cried out.

  “All right,” Michael said walking over to her quickly and placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “How long?” she held up her hand to stop Michael from speaking again. “Ten minutes? Perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Michael said to her when she hung up. “That’s how you end your life-or-death call to the police. Perfect?”

  “I panicked,” she shrugged.

  “We have, what? Ten minutes?” Michael confirmed as he walked quickly over to the desk and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

  “Yeah,” she said watching him carefully.

  “We need something to tie them up with,” he said to her. He pulled open the drawers but didn’t find anything.

  “There’s the rope they used on us,” she offered.

  He looked at her as if she were an idiot. “That’s back in the holding room with Henry and the henchmen. I don’t really feel like dealing with them right now.”

  “Right,” she said turning around and searching the room.

  Rummaging around through Mickey’s things a little more, Michael was able to find some duct tape. “This will do the trick,” he said tossing it to Gloria, who let it fall to the ground in front of her, unable to catch it due to the two guns still in her hands.

  She kicked it in the direction of the men in the chairs. “You,” she said pointing her gun at Hamilton, “tie him up!” she moved the gun to point it at Lewis.

  He did as she ordered, and she then ordered him to tie up Mickey. The entire time, Michael was busy writing. When Mickey was tied up, Gloria set her guns on the ground and tied up Hamilton. Taking his letter with him, Michael went and stood in front of his three prisoners. He asked Gloria for the tape, and ripped off three pieces, placing one over each of their mouths.

  He then ripped off one more little strip and taped the letter to Hamilton’s chest. “Bring me to Officer Connolly,” Gloria read the letter out loud. “Tell him Michael Kent said to ask me about the Rachel Johnson case. Oh, and in case I decide to try to lie again, check the Meditech files at our office, along with our phone records. Myself and my colleague confess to not only organizing and orchestrating the deaths of Rachel Johnson and Joy Reynolds, but also our involvement in the drug ring that lead to the death of an officer roughly a year back.” She finished reading and turned to look at Michael. “Do you think they’ll believe that?”

  “It’ll at least keep them in holding for a while, I hope,” Michael said checking the time. “We have to get out of here,” he said making his way for the door. Gloria followed behind him, and they both made their way back through the maze of halls and doors to the main parlor. Just as they were about to walk out the front door they heard the sirens of the cop cars getting close.

  “I’m going out the back,” Michael said turning to go out a different exit.

  “I’m going with you,” she said rushing to keep up with him.

  When they exited the house, they both worked their way down the street, ducking behind bushes and behind trees to avoid being seen. Finally reaching a spot they felt they were safe, Michael turned around to face Gloria. “Thank you for your help,” he said holding out his hand to her.

  “Sure,” she said placing her hand in his.

  “We have to go our separate ways now,” he informed her.

  “What?” she asked surprised.

  “I have a few other things I need to take care of,” he informed her.

  “And what am I supposed to do now?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said turning to walk away. “Enjoy your day off,” he called back over his shoulder.

  He was too far from where he left his car to walk back to get it. He reached into his pocket, planning on calling Jason to ask him for a ride, when his finger brushed against the picture of Lindsey he had placed there.

  He pulled it out and stared down at it. “It’s not over yet,” he said to himself, still walking through the up-scale neighborhood where Mickey lived. “I still have to save you.”

  He wandered into a park, and took a seat on a bench, still staring down at the picture in his hands. “Where are you?” he asked the image of the woman whose life was in danger because of him. Hearing what Mark Lewis had said about the Underground Mafia, Michael worried even more than he did before for Lindsey’s safety. What were the chances that even once he got to them that they would actually let either of them walk out alive? He had to figure out what to do, but first, he had to figure out where to go.

  He held the picture closer to his face, trying to examine it for any tells. In the upper corner, he saw something. It was small, but it was something. Squinting his eyes together tightly, he examined it. “It looks like the corner of a picture frame,” he said to himself. As he looked, the image suddenly struck a chord in his memory. He could see, just inside the edge of the picture frame, what appeared to be nothing but a patch of white.

  But the harder he looked, the more familiar the frame and the white blur became. “It’s the
picture of Muffin,” he said softly. “It’s the picture of Lindsey holding Muffin!” he yelled out loudly. A passerby, walking her dog, stopped and shot him a surprised look. “Sorry,” he said, waving to the lady before turning his attention back to the picture in his hand.

  “They’re holding her in her own apartment!” he said under his breath this time, but with the same tone of excitement at his revelation.

  He quickly shoved the picture back into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Jason?” he said into the receiver. “I need a huge favor.”

  It took Jason 20 minutes to drive up to the park where Michael was waiting. “What is it?” he asked, throwing the passenger door open and waiting for Michael to get in. “You sounded really urgent.” His face let Michael know that he had been woken up by his call.

  “I can’t explain everything,” he said quickly, pulling on his seatbelt and waiting for Jason to start driving. “We need to get my car, and I have to ask you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “One, I need you to call George.”

  “Higgs?”

  “Yes,” Michael confirmed. “I need you to tell him that I said it’s okay. To go ahead and call it in; report it.”

  “Report what?” Jason asked, looking over at him with a worried expression.

  “He’ll know,” Michael said looking over his shoulder, making sure that no one was following them.

  “When do I call him?” Jason asked.

  “The shop opens at 7:00, right?”

  “You would know better than me.”

  “Yes, it opens at 7:00. Call as soon as you can, then, if he doesn’t answer, call again and again, until he does.”

  “That’s it? Call George?” Jason asked.

  “When you tell him to report it, make sure that you tell him to ask for Officer Connolly.”

  “Connolly?” Jason said the name slowly. “The officer that worked Rachel’s case?”

  “Yes,” Michael said turning his attention back to Jason.

  “Michael, have you been digging around Rachel’s case again?”

  “Not just digging,” he replied. “Uncovering. I figured it out!”