by P. W. Davies
“Better now than later,” Christian said. “Before we both became too invested.”
Twenty-One
If you had asked him this morning what he thought the day would hold, Victor Mason would have given a very concise, but very hopeful answer.
He would have been entirely wrong.
After Christian left, he couldn’t move for a long time. Memories of the last few weeks played over and over in his mind, conjured and dismissed in instants of anger. Of agonized attraction. Of damning desire. And condemnation.
It’s Beverly all over again.
The thought lasted just for a moment before Victor rejected it. That was what finally got him to slump and look around. The kitchen still bore the remnants of breakfast. An abandoned coffee cup had been left on the counter. The couch had been a place of sanctuary just a few hours ago. His bedroom...
Victor forced his thoughts away from it. He wasn’t ready for that to impact just yet.
Instead, he opted to walk over to his liquor cabinet and retrieve a bottle. He then turned and plucked a coaster from a collection on the bar. Not bothering to pour any into a glass, he walked directly to the piano, set the coaster down, and opened the bottle to drank down a healthy swallow of amber liquid.
It burned unpleasantly, but it was a start. The last thing I tasted was Christian...
He ripped the bottle away from his lips and took an unsteady breath. Setting the alcohol on the coaster, Victor lifted the lid from the keys on the piano and sat.
The first few notes were tentative. Pleading.
Why do you have to kill people?
Victor banished the question from his mind and started to play. He’d always been gifted at the piano. Not a prodigy, but practice and determination were enough to make him quite accomplished. Dozens of songs had been committed to memory over the years from the hours he’d sat at the bench, so there was no need for sheet music to let his emotions sound out across the keys.
It was hours before he stood. When he did, the bottle was empty.
So was his heart.
Plodding over to the couch, Victor sat and produced his phone. The picture he’d taken of the napkin had been deleted, but the contact remained where he had entered it. A name. A number. A series of text messages. A suggestive picture of a man he almost wished he could forget. Seeing it inspired him to delete that and, when that didn’t make him feel better, Victor deleted the contact as well. Whatever remained of Christian, he cast away before slumping over onto one of the pillows.
Goodbye, Christian, he thought as he set his phone onto the coffee table. Arms hugging himself, he stared at the wall, waiting for the reprieve of sleep.
You will be missed.
Victor had never seen a dead person before.
The macabre thought circled through his mind while he stood at work the next day, trying to make sense of the past twenty-four hours and this strange new reality where they had taken him. Yes, he mused, he’d been to funerals, so he’d seen corpses before, but those were events that took place after a person had died. This was something different, and Victor struggled to wrap his head around that notion.
He’d never seen a person walking around, carrying on their daily routine without knowing they had a limited time left to live.
If he had to be honest, the more he thought about it, the more he realized the morality of it wasn’t what troubled him. Victor grasped the idea of a world where strength, power, territory, and ego were the laws of the land; truth be told, it wasn’t that different from the world he occupied. Except for that one, very vital detail. We have the judicial system on this side of the fence, he thought. We are the judicial system.
There had to be an irony somewhere in there, he reckoned. It was simply lost on him then.
Drinking from a coffee that had since gone tepid, Victor couldn’t bring himself to look away from Samuel, watching him move around his office while talking on the phone. He’d be the first in line to say he didn’t enter law because of idealism. Of any of the professional tracks someone could take after passing the bar, corporate law wasn’t an edifying choice, but he’d chosen it because of its challenges and complexities. Maneuvering a capitalistic society – finding its loopholes – appealed to him more than the forced black and white of criminal law.
Watching the ghost in front of him, he’d never been more thankful for that than today.
Is it odd that I know exactly who’s going to separate you from the land of the living? The jarring notion struck him the same way then as it had while he’d stripped the sheets from the bed. To Victor, Christian had become even more of an enigma, now knowing the truth. A man clearly with a heart, mind, and soul that appealed to him, while also being a killer who robbed people of their futures. How they coexisted in the same person baffled him.
More importantly, it didn’t immediately cure him of his infatuation with Christian. That fact formed a question he determined Victor didn’t want answered. Not yet, anyhow.
He jumped when a hand clapped downward, onto his shoulder. Glancing at its owner, he wondered if stunned surprise was even possible at this stage of the game and yet, Nathan stood beside him, his eyes exactly where Victor’s had just been. “Now you know what I’ve been dealing with for the last week,” Nathan said.
Victor winced. “I’m having a hard time with it, to be honest.”
“He’s been here the whole time you have, hasn’t he?” The junior partner removed his hand after one final squeeze, and Victor offered him a smile of thanks.
“Just a few months before I took a job here, yes. Six years.” He frowned. “We weren’t ever friends, but he was – is – competent. I wouldn’t have suspected what has been going on.”
Nathan shook his head. “I didn’t either until I was approached. At least it’ll be over today.”
Victor raised an eyebrow and wondered if his heart skipped a beat. “Is that so?”
He watched as Nathan glanced around, confirming they were alone. Even so, he lowered his voice. “They’re raiding his place today. I only know because one of the investigators thought I would handle it better if I knew there was an end-date to all this. He wasn’t wrong. It’s been hard enough not saying something to Samuel even knowing there was an end to it.”
“Do you wish you’d have a chance to ask him to explain?”
“Nothing like that,” Nathan said. “I’d ask him what he’d needed that he didn’t think he could earn. And I’m not sure if he even knows the answer to that.”
“Intentions are like that. But in the end, they don’t matter.” Victor’s voice sounded bitter even to him.
Nathan frowned. “Let’s get out of the hallway. Last thing we want is for Samuel to notice and come asking questions.”
Victor lead the way back to his own office with Nathan following behind. They passed by Evie’s empty office, and Victor counted it a mercy she wasn’t in yet. He wasn’t ready yet to deflect her questions about Christian. As it was, he’d wrestled with the idea to call the police earlier. But anything Victor could say would implicate himself, and there was the significant consideration of how Christian’s employer would view interference. Both could end up on the receiving end of that ire. It was a certainty that in many ways, Victor’s hands were tied, but that didn’t mean it sat well with him.
“Since neither of us can do much about Samuel, is there anything else I can help you with?” Nathan asked. Victor heard the unspoken request to close the book on their fellow lawyer.
“I have to find out what Mr. Harper has been up to these last few days,” Victor said. “Other than that, we’re making progress. A few final changes to their companies and Shaw and Bechtel can consummate their deal.”
“Good. I want to put this all to bed without losing our client. When Samuel goes down, we’ll be ready to swoop in, with Jeffries and Madigan vouching for our work. We’ll be able to keep Harper on board, even if it’s in less than ideal circumstances.” Nathan smiled morosely. “To be honest, I�
�m just glad that Samuel didn’t do anything stupid here at work. We can plead ignorance and get on with things once it’s all over.”
“I’ll admit that sounds wonderful to me,” Victor said, only half believing it as he said it.
“I was just glad they’re taking him at home rather than here,” Nathan said. “But he didn’t bring any of his stuff here, so they had no authority to nab him at work. They’ll do it at his house, so he’s physically tied to everything”
“His stuff?” Victor asked, regretting the question as soon as it passed his lips.
Nathan’s expression grew pale and he nodded slowly. “I suppose it won’t hurt you to know. But part of the reason I wasn’t sleeping last week was that I uncovered the origins of all the boxes he was passing through the docks.” He lowered his voice again. Victor felt the seconds pass like they were hours, until he spoke a string of words that made Victor’s blood freeze.
“Samuel’s been transporting guns,” Nathan said. “And using someone in organized crime to find buyers for them.”
The already strange world turned even more surreal. “Guns?” he asked.
“A lot of stuff that has the FBI wanting his head on a platter. They needed to wait and see where he transported them, which almost jeopardized the raid. At first, they thought he might have hidden them away in another warehouse. They got a tip from one of the workers at Keystone, though, that several vans came to pick up the crates in the middle of the night. Somehow, they tracked them to his house.”
“And then, adjusted the location of the raid.”
“Exactly.” Victor felt Nathan’s gaze settle on him, while his mind began to spin with possibilities. “Are you alright?” Nathan asked. “I know you didn’t want to talk about it much yesterday, but –”
“Could you excuse me for a moment, please?” Victor asked. He looked at Nathan, managing as much of an apology in his expression as he was capable of in the moment. “I appreciate the comfort of sharing a secret. But I think I need a moment to process this.”
“That’s fine.” Nathan nodded, walking toward the corridor. “Come and find me if you need anything.”
Victor returned the nod. For a moment, he watched the junior partner walk away and recounted the days beforehand, where the final embers of his infatuation had been overcome by the impression Christian had left. That moment became no different. Rather than settling into a shared bond with Nathan, Victor realized the revelation had planted a seed of worry, which something in his subconscious had decided to feed. Doubt sprouted from there.
If the police are raiding the house, they’re going to provoke Samuel.
That became the first thought. Victor set the tepid coffee onto his desk and brought his hand to his head, unable to stop the breakneck speed in which epiphanies ran through his mind. Christian had mentioned a turning point in his work. They have a contract for Samuel’s death. The black thoughts which had plagued Victor throughout the morning turned into cold fact, and no matter how much he wanted to stop himself, he followed one implication to the next.
He had no idea how long hitmen had to deliver, but it couldn’t be that long.
Christian left the condo looking as morose as Victor had felt.
He’d be wanting to get this job ended and as much as it stung Victor’s heart, he remembered what else Christian had said about work. ‘I wish I would’ve known you’d be a part of this. I might have refused the job and kept you.’ The odds of Christian seizing the moment had become astronomical, to the point that he wouldn’t have dared bet against them. He’s going to be there when they raid Samuel’s house.
“Good,” he said out loud, then winced at his own declaration. No, this wasn’t good. If it meant something as simple as Christian being arrested, then Victor would leave the hitman to his fate. But no, this posed a threat that Victor couldn’t pretend to be numb toward. The thought of Christian being caught in the crossfire. Possibly killed. How ironic is that? Sitting at his desk, he took out his phone, belatedly remembering that he’d deleted Christian’s contact information.
Great, he thought. Now I can’t even warn him properly.
Victor stood again, barely suppressing the urge to pace. Stealing a look in the direction of Evie’s office, when he noticed her still absent, he began to wonder if she’d taken a personal day. Or had been assigned to talk to their clients. She would be telling me to stay out of it. I should stay out of it. Odds are that Christian will know how to handle himself. Still, the most damning fact rose above even his own sense of self-preservation.
He still cared. Of course, I do. This wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t. That, however, meant he needed to intervene somehow.
How did one get a hitman’s attention, though? This wasn’t something you posted about on Craigslist or Reddit, and Victor had no idea which section of town Christian lived in. Sitting again – this time on the edge of his desk – he looked up in time to see Samuel pass by his office, the living dead man continuing whatever motions he still thought he needed to conduct, without realizing they’d be his last. No, the thought was still surreal, even admitting that he gave more of a damn about the fate of a hitman than his potential target. Again, I’m not going to unpack that now. How do I get a message to Christian?
The convergence gave him an idea. The idea itself revealed how little self-preservation Victor did have, but he couldn’t resist both the simplicity and the obvious nature of the only good idea he could come up with. He gave himself the remainder of the day to reconsider it, knowing nothing would happen before nightfall and praying that Evie would be in before he followed through with the idea.
How did one get a message to a hitman?
Follow his target, of course.
Twenty-Two
Salvation had abandoned Victor and left him in the tender mercies of fate.
No, I’m in meetings for the rest of the day, Evie had texted, in response to a message from Victor. Why? When she asked the question, Victor realized he couldn’t explain himself without all the complications that had prevented him from going to the police. Rather than telling her the truth, he locked himself inside a questionable series of choices and threw away the key.
I’ll tell you more when you’re in the office tomorrow, he texted back. Let me know how the meetings go.
His response formed the first in a series of attempts to make it look like work took any priority for the remainder of the day. Victor sat in a meeting with Nathan and Samuel, offering something resembling his normal level of engagement. He tended to a list of responsibilities without faltering, and during the times when it distracted him from how he intended his day to end, Victor was grateful for the work. The later the hour became, though, the closer he came to taking a leap, and when he spotted Samuel again, he resolved himself to seeing this through.
Here goes nothing, he thought, gathering his things and racing to catch up to Samuel.
Samuel walked for the bank of elevators leading to the bottom floors. Carrying his own briefcase, he looked as tired from the long day of work as Victor would feel if he hadn’t spent most of the day masquerading. “Samuel, wait,” Victor said, closing the distance between them without running. “Can I have a minute of your time?”
“I guess so,” Samuel said, brow furrowed, but allowing Victor to stop him from pressing the down button on the wall. “What do you want.”
Victor prepared himself for the biggest act of the entire day. “Forgive me for saying this, but I’ve been working on the final details of the acquisition and could use some help.” The words burned on his tongue, but he reminded himself – some flattery, but not too much. He’d be suspicious if Victor piled it on too much. “Are you available to look over what I have tonight?”
As it was, Samuel still squinted at him. “Is this your way of trying to show me up somehow?”
“More to the point, Nathan suggested today that he’d like for this to be put to bed. Evie was busy, and she and I are usually the ones looking at these thi
ngs together. If you’re busy, I’ll understand.”
Motioning to turn had its intended effect. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I was just wondering if you’re Victor Mason or his twin brother.” Samuel looked smug when Victor glanced at him again, and though Victor did his best to remain nonplussed, the implication that Victor needed his help made Victor bristle. Yet that was precisely the look in Samuel’s eyes. “No, I’m not busy,” he finally said.
“Maybe we could go to your house? I’d offer mine, but one of the neighbors is renovating.”
Samuel shrugged. “Fine by me.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Follow me down and I’ll give you the address.”
Victor nodded, internally breathing a sigh of relief. One phase of the plan done. More to go. Stepping into the elevator with Samuel, he took out his phone and made a note of his address, intending to delete the note the moment he’d left Samuel’s house. While Samuel droned about finding a nice, single home – one of the few in a city of high rises and row houses – Victor nodded and granted him passing interest in what he had to say. They stepped out at the ground floor and, mercifully, Samuel had been given a reason to stop talking.
“I’ll meet you over there,” Samuel said, walking out of the building and heading toward the parking garage.
Giving him enough lead time, Victor walked for the garage next, needing and grateful for the space in which he could collect his thoughts. Once he’d located where he parked the motorcycle, he secured his briefcase and put on his helmet, turning the key and revving the motor while taking a deep breath. He knew where he was headed, and as he traveled toward the house, he chased away thoughts of being too late. Raids didn’t work that way, he thought. And if he arrived to find a dead body, he had the benefit of not needing to deliver his message.
When he pulled up and parked behind Samuel’s car, though, he spotted the other lawyer in the front window, still alive and well.
