Evolution of a Killer

by Robert Ullrich

  *****

  There’d been women in his life, from time to time. Lazarus was rich, and fairly good looking. That made him irresistible to some. His relationships were always short-lived, the longest at 6 months. He never ended a relationship as one might expect. He simply moved on with a good-bye and nothing more.

  Lazarus continued making time for at least one daily walk with Angelique and Cheyenne. The bond between them was growing stronger. He was falling in love and didn’t know it. Romantic love was a stranger to him. As the feelings grew, he found it more difficult to hide the truth from Angelique, decades of lying notwithstanding. Lazarus wanted to believe Angelique was capable of accepting him as he was. At the same time, he felt there would always be things he couldn’t tell her. Such is the nature of a killer’s life.

  Only one person knew everything there was to know about Lazarus; Dr. Helen. He opened up to her because she was void of judgment. He never forgot what she told him as her student in Chicago.

  “Lazarus,” said Dr. Helen, “sometimes the taking of a life is the right thing to do. Not everyone is capable of making life and death decisions. You are. You learned on your own not everyone deserves to die of natural causes.” He wondered if Angelique could be as pragmatic when it came to his way of life.

  It was usually right before he went to sleep, that he allowed his mind to contemplate life with her. He didn’t have a reference point. His parents died young, and his aunt never married. The closest thing he had to an example of a happy marriage was Helen and Darnell: a sociopath and a street thug. Lazarus would detach from his feelings before going to sleep. As time moved on, as it always does, he was finding it a more difficult to close the door on the possibilities ahead.

  *****

  Lazarus met with Garza (as Cooper) on the 24th to lay out the plan. Garza was impressed with not only its simplicity, but the seeming flawlessness. “This here’s a good plan, amigo,” drawled Lazarus. “It’ll work long as ya don’t git happy feet and screw the pooch.”

  Garza agreed, “Yes, it seems perfect. I can see now why your boss gets paid so much. This is the work of a professional.”

  “Like I told ya before, the boss’s a man of principle. If’n he takes a job, it’s a job that gits done, and gits done right.”

  Garza noted one omission that bothered him. “I don’t see anywhere in this plan of his where I’m supposed to die.”

  Lazarus responded, “Boss says there ain’t no need for it, so there ain’t. He says it don’t matter if you’re dead or not, they’re still gonna be lookin’ for that money. Long as ya disappear, then it’s as good as bein’ dead anyways.”

  “I guess so,” said Garza skeptically, “but if everyone believes I’m dead, no one will be looking for me.” He added disingenuously, “Besides, I worry about my wife. If I’m not legally dead, she won’t be able to get the life insurance or the house as I intended.” Truth was Garza didn’t care about Angelique. He wanted Ramon to think he was dead so his brother wouldn’t come after him.

  “Now don’t go frettin’ about the missus, Enrique. From what I hear she’s got plenty of her own money. I reckon she’ll do fine without the insurance. They can’t kick her outta the house, neither. Boss knows it’s paid for. So, forget it, and let’s go over what ya need to be doin’.”

  “Fine,” Garza agreed reluctantly, “but I’d still feel better if the world thought I was dead.”

  Lazarus explained to Garza the first step was scheduling three flights to Miami over the next two to three weeks. That would establish a pattern of travel in preparation for the flight to Argentina. Garza had a few clients in Miami that used Gulf Coast Bank & Trust locally. He also knew several bank executives in the area. Scheduling the trips shouldn’t raise an eyebrow with anyone at the bank, and hopefully not his wife.

  “Alrighty then, Enrique, it’s time to git this show on the road. Ya oughta be good to go by the 2nd week in May. No offense, but I’d really like to git my butt back home by then. I got me a little lady friend up there that’s gittin’ the itch, if’n ya catch my drift.” He gave Garza a knowing wink.

  “Yes, I know what you mean, my friend,” Garza responded with a wink of his own.

  “Good enough for me then,” said Lazarus extending his hand. When Garza took it, he added, “Until then, jest keep yer eyes open and go on about yer business. I’ll be watchin’ out for ya and yer missus, too.”

  *****

  Darnell arrived in Rockport the 25th. He stopped and called from a Valero station on the outskirts of town.

  “Hey, D,” answered Lazarus, when he saw the number on his phone. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at a Valero, on the edge of town.”

  “You need to head east on Market until you get to a traffic light.” Lazarus went on with the directions to his house, while Darnell jotted down notes. “Watch your speed, D,” Lazarus added, “They love to nail people for speeding, especially on Broadway so keep it under 30. You’ll be turning right onto Bayview at the Stripes store. Follow Bayview until you come to Lauderdale. You’ll go right on Lauderdale and then take the second right which is St. Croix. Cayman Drive will be the second left on St. Croix. The house is at the very end: 33 Cayman. It’s a white stucco two story with a red tile roof, 2-car garage and a metal gate on the right. Just pull into the drive and I’ll be waiting.”

  “See you in a few, Spike,” said Darnell.

  *****

  Lazarus could hear Darnell before he saw him. NWA was blasting out the windows of his customized, ’85 de Ville convertible. Lazarus had to laugh in spite of himself. This was Darnell’s idea of a low profile.

  Lazarus started walking to the Caddie as Darnell began unfolding all 6’7” of his 300 pounds from behind the wheel. D was so black his skin looked almost purple in the bright South Texas sun. When he smiled, you got a look at $3000 worth of diamond studded grille. Darnell was dressed in black jeans and a skin tight white Under Armor muscle shirt, sporting the latest pair of Jordan’s on his size 18 feet. His arms and shoulders were covered with tats, some were from his 7 years in prison, and others represented his membership in the Dark Lords. The rest were various works of art he’d acquired over the years. All in all, he was one foreboding looking man, inspiring a sense of awe tinged with fear for most whites, not to mention the majority of blacks who crossed paths with him.

  Lazarus walked up to Darnell and held out his hand to have it slapped aside as the big man wrapped him in a bear hug, picking him up off the ground like Lazarus was a kid.

  “Shit, Spike,” Darnell said with a huge grin, “We way past that hand shakin’ business don’t ya think? We’re family, even if it is hard to explain your cracker ass to the DL’s.”

  Lazarus, almost certain he heard one of his ribs cracking, couldn’t help but laugh at the reception. “Yeah, we’re miles past that crossroad, D,” he said with a grin, “but unless you plan on driving me to the E.R., you probably ought to put my white ass down before you break my damn ribs.”

  Darnell put him down and slapped Lazarus on the shoulder. “You must be gettin’ old. Ten years ago, you would a popped me on the head and busted yourself loose.” His laughter resounded off the walls of the neighboring houses.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lazarus shot back, “and ten years ago you would have broken five of my ribs before you let go.” His laughter joined Darnell’s, attracting the attention of more than one of his neighbors. “Come on in, before someone calls the cops and tells them I’m getting mugged in the street.”

  Darnell grinned, sweeping the houses on the cul-de-sac before following Lazarus up the drive to the front entry. “Hell, Spike, someone prolly dropped a dime on my ass when I made the corner by that Stripes store.”

  Still laughing, they entered the house and headed up the stairs to the main level. Lazarus poured the big man a cup of coffee and then dropped three sugar cubes in with a wink. Darnell took the coffee, stirring in the sugar, before taking a sip. “It ain’t Dunkin Donuts, but it ain’t
bad.” He looked up with a scowl on his face, “And don’t be tellin’ the missus about the sugar. You know she’ll kick my ass for it.”

  Lazarus returned the look somberly, “You have my word on it, Darnell. To the grave,” and they both started laughing again. Mainly, because Darnell wasn’t joking, Helen would rip him a new one if she learned he was sneaking sugar. Diabetes ran in Darnell’s family and he was border-line.

  Darnell sat the cup down. “HH got the low down on your boy Garza. It wasn’t easy. The folks in Corpus Christi weren’t real keen on the idea of rattin’ him out. She reminded them what she was capable of and one of ‘em came around pretty quick.” Lazarus sat down his coffee and listened. “Your boy is discreet, but he talks too much when he’s drinkin’.”

  “And?” asked Lazarus, encouraging Darnell to continue.

  “That is one twisted lil motherfucker, Spike, sadistic too. He likes ‘em young, too fuckin’ young to be done like he does ‘em. According to HH’s old college buddy down in Kingsville, he’s sent more than one to the hospital.”

  Lazarus nodded with his face blank of emotion. “I thought as much.”

  “Does Katsumi know about this dude’s shit?” asked Darnell, concern in his voice.

  Lazarus nodded again, this time his eyes narrowing slightly as they darkened in color.

  “Damn, how’s she doin’ behind this?”

  Lazarus drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before answering. “Not well, but she’s dealing with it. It shook her up quite a bit. She got the info from one of my sources and she had to be the one to tell me.”

  Darnell swirled the coffee around slowly. His eyes fixed on Lazarus. “You want him gone?” he asked casually, the look in his eyes leaving little doubt what he meant by the question.

  “Thank you, Darnell,” answered Lazarus. “I’m honored by the offer and I appreciate it. I know how important Kat is to you and how much you love that little girl. However, and no disrespect intended, I have to say no. It isn’t that I don’t want him dead; it’s a matter of how and when. I don’t know if HH told you, but he contracted me to relocate him to Argentina with a new identity.”

  Darnell nodded. “Not in so many words but yeah, she told me it was complicated. She told me you’d say no, too, about Garza that is. Said if Garza was gonna end up dead, you’d be the one doin’ it.”

  Lazarus smiled his cold dark smile, “You have my word on it, Darnell. I’ll handle it.”

  “Your word is good enough for me,” replied Darnell. “I just wish I could see the mother-fuckin’ look on his face when the reaper comes callin’.”

  They sat there quietly for 15 minutes, sharing a second cup of coffee.

  “Katsumi still got that golden you gave her?” asked Darnell.

  “Yep; Baxter is still the only man in her life,” replied Lazarus with a half-sad smile.

  “Prolly always will be, thanks to what that fuckin’ dude did to her, not to mention the Tongs.” Darnell sighed and shook his head. “Beautiful girl like her never gonna have a good man in her life.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Lazarus. “LJ’s been spending a lot of time at my place the last couple of years. He’s flat assed in love with her. The thing is she doesn’t know it and he doesn’t show it.” Lazarus went on, “He’s got more patience than you or I would ever give him credit for. I think he’d wait the rest of his life for her if that’s what it takes to win her trust.”

  Darnell had to smile at that. “Damn, Jizzy, for real? I never would a guessed the boy had it in him. Just goes to show ya, don’t it?”

  “Yes, it does, D, yes it does.”

  Darnell looked at his watch and stood up.

  “So soon?” asked Lazarus. “You’ve barely been here an hour. I was hoping you’d at least stay until tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Wish I could, but I got to be in Juarez in the mornin’. I got some business to handle for the DL’s.” Lazarus knew Darnell was a member of the Dark Lords. He didn’t want his friend heading into Mexico.

  “Juarez is a war zone, D,” he cautioned. “You watch your back.”

  “It’s all good, Spike, at least on this run. I got some negotiating to do with the suppliers.” The suppliers just happened to be Los Zapatos, Ramon Torano’s cartel. “I got a guarantee on this trip. It don’t matter how bad-ass them Zapatos think they are, they still gotta have distribution.”

  “I understand,” said Lazarus. “Business is business, even to the cartel.”

  He got up to walk Darnell back down to his Caddie. Darnell stopped by the door when Langston rolled over on his back, waving his paws in the air. Darnell crouched down and started rubbing Langston’s tummy to the shepherd’s delight.

  “How you been, Langston, my man?” Darnell asked the dog. “You know you always got a place with me up in Chi-town if’n you ever git tired of this cracker ass here.” He winked at Lazarus when he called him a ‘cracker’.

  “Screw you, D,” he replied with a grin, “and stop trying to steal my damn dog. Jesus, you never quit.”

  “Nope, and I ain’t never gonna neither,” Darnell said with his booming laugh. “I gotta go now, buddy,” he said to Langston, as he followed Darnell down the stairs, “long run to El Paso for tonight.”

  They both looked up as they walked out the front door, spotting a Rockport PD Explorer coming down the street.

  “I told ya someone dropped a dime on me,” Darnell said with a grin as he gave Lazarus another bear hug. “I fuckin’ told ya.”

  “True dat,” grinned Lazarus.

  Darnell slid behind the wheel and Lazarus leaned in the window. “For real, D, be safe and don’t go gettin’ your black ass shot off in Juarez.”

  “Don’t sweat the small stuff, Spike, you know me. I’ll be fine.” Darnell backed out of the drive and headed up Cayman Drive, waving at the Rockport officer; flashing his grille and winking. The officer shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. She looped around the cul-de-sac, following Darnell off the island. To her credit, she never even considered pulling him over.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Enrique booked three flights into Miami, two for the coming week and one more for the next. He scheduled appointments with two bank presidents and three of his customers to add authenticity to the travel. He booked a room for each trip at the South Beach Marriott Stanton. He was starting to believe it was going to work, even if it wasn’t exactly as he planned it. In less than a month, he would be in Argentina with over 16 million dollars. He could live out his days as a king with that kind of money at his disposal. What he didn’t realize, Lazarus was building a false sense of security in him. He would complete the contract, as a matter of principle. The fact the money had been stolen from a Mexican Cartel complicated the situation. The fact Garza had a penchant for abusing boys, made the outcome far less favorable for Enrique. Lazarus had given his word to Katsumi he would deal with Garza, if the stories were true. They were. He would take care of Garza in his own way and in his own time but take care of him he would.

  With the Cartel being a variable in what had become a more complicated equation; Lazarus reached out to his friend Dan at the NSA. He asked Dan to keep an ear to the ground about the Zapatos, or Ramon Torano. Lazarus didn’t want any surprises from south of the border. Dan had already been monitoring Garza’s cell phone activity, even the burner Enrique used to hire the Chameleon. Not many would understand why an NSA analyst would help Lazarus the way Dan did. In fact, it would get him fired, and probably arrested if it ever came to light. Dan knew it. He didn’t care. He had a damn good reason for helping, and Dan knew Lazarus was the Chameleon.

  *****

  It was September 9, 2006; Dan Grimsrud walked into his home at the end of Oak Run Road in Laurel, Maryland. Grimsrud was an analyst for the NSA, working out of their headquarters on Fort Meade. He tossed his keys on the table by the door and flipped on the light, freezing at the sight of a bearded blonde man with sunglasses, sitt
ing in a chair at the end of the short hallway.

  “Good evening, Mr. Grimsrud,” said Lazarus. “I know this is highly unorthodox, but I assure you, I mean you no harm. If I did, I would have shot you when you came through the door.” As if to emphasis his point, the stranger lifted a semi-automatic with a silencer. He lowered the weapon, barrel pointed to his left, but he didn’t holster it.

  Dan didn’t panic. He recognized the truth in the statement. If the man wanted him dead, he’d be dead already. That didn’t change the fact, whether he showed it or not, he was shaken. “Then what is it you want from me?” he asked, taking a step towards the stranger.

  “That’s close enough for now, Mr. Grimsrud,” said Lazarus, as he pointed gun the down the hall. “I’m here to talk; nothing more. I’d like to get to the point so I can be out of here before your wife M.J. arrives.”

  Dan glanced at his watch. “You have maybe 10 minutes before she gets here. She left work early today to get her hair done. She texted me 15 minutes ago that she was on her way home.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve been monitoring your phones,” explained Lazarus.

  Dan’s countenance darkened as he clenched his fists. At 6’ and around 240 pounds, he was an imposing figure when angered. He was unnerved by the stranger’s presence, security system notwithstanding. The fact he’d been monitoring their phones, just plain pissed him off. He wondered if this guy was CIA. He put his weight on his back foot and said coldly, “You better make it fast then.”

  The stranger didn’t flinch or show concern about the change in Dan’s posture. He smiled and said, “Fair enough, Mr. Grimsrud.”

  “Let’s hear it then.”

  Lazarus took off his sunglasses and began, “I’ll cut to the chase as they say. If you have any questions, please wait until I am finished.

  “You’ve been monitoring the communications and activities of one Ramon Torano, head of Los Zapatos de le Muerte. He has become aware of the surveillance through a mole in the NSA. He pays the man well to keep him apprised of what your organization is doing regarding his operations. He took offense that you would intrude upon his private life. He has contracted someone to kill you and your wife in retaliation, as a warning to others.”