Daniel Faust 03 - The Living End

by Craig Schaefer

  “Who?” Meadow said. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, hon. I kill a lot of people. It’s kinda what I do for a living.”

  Bentley turned and stormed out of the room. Corman and Margaux weren’t far behind, running to check on him. I forced my anger down, swallowed it, bottled it up deep inside where it couldn’t push me into doing something reckless.

  “You’re serious?” Jennifer said. “You don’t even remember their names.”

  “Aw, you look confused, sort of like a puppy that just got kicked in the head. I’m going to help you understand, because I’m nice that way. So, story time! Story time with Aunt Meadow! Gather around, kids, nice and close. One of you can sit on my lap. What, no takers? Fine, have it your way.”

  “I don’t think we need to hear—” I started to say.

  “You do,” Meadow said, suddenly serious as the grave. “You really do, because you don’t seem to know who you’re dealing with. Story time. Last week I was grocery shopping, picking up a few things, and a stock boy of, hmm, maybe nineteen or twenty? He started hitting on me. I was surprised. I mean, I don’t get a lot of action ever since someone carved my fucking face up!”

  I almost took a step back under the heat of her sudden, furious glare. Then her expression softened, and she smiled and continued her tale.

  “I figured he took me for an easy lay. Single woman, a little overweight, huge fucking facial scar, probably not starring on The Bachelorette. Well, I came back after his shift ended, and I let him take me to his dingy little shithole apartment, with his dingy little electric guitar from his dingy little garage band, and I pretended to listen as he told me all his aspirations and dreams.”

  “There a point to this?” Jennifer asked.

  “Oh boy, is there ever. We ended up in his adorably embarrassing twin bed. And he was bad. I mean, really, excruciatingly bad in the way that only inexperienced young men can be. And I’m lying there while he’s huffing and puffing away, and I’m saying to myself, ‘Self? How can I find the fun in this situation? How can I turn this into me time?’ So I got on top of him, rode him until he came, and—while he’s climaxing, while he’s still buried deep inside of me—I took my knife and I stabbed him, oh, seven or eight times.”

  I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have anything to say. The twinkle in her eyes made my stomach churn. She’s proud of herself, I thought. Jennifer shook her head, mute.

  “Two kinds of people in this world,” Meadow said. “Sheep and wolves. I’m a wolf. I do what wolves do. Do you think I’m going to find some wellspring of remorse for your dead friends? I won’t. Do you think I’m going to piss myself because you’re going to torture me? I’m not. Sure, you can make me scream until my vocal cords snap, but you have no idea how to hurt me.

  “Moral of the story, kids? Go ahead and put a bullet in my brain. Right now. Between the eyes. Do it. Because whatever you’re hoping to gain by keeping me prisoner, you can’t have it. The only rational thing you can do right now, the only sensible, sane thing, for you and for all of humanity, is to kill me here and now. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. That’s a promise.”

  “Deal,” Jennifer said and pressed the barrel of her chromed .357 to Meadow’s forehead.

  Forty

  “No!” I shouted, grabbing Jennifer’s wrist and yanking the gun upward before she could pull the trigger. I dragged her back a few steps and shook her shoulder hard with my bandaged hand.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said. “We have a plan.”

  “You heard the bitch,” Jennifer seethed, looking between Meadow and me. “We’re wasting our time here. Let’s just put her in the ground and be done with it.”

  I leaned in and whispered in her ear. She nodded slowly, grudgingly, and put her gun away.

  All part of the plan.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Meadow said.

  “We’re not here to torture you,” I said. “And we’re not here to kill you.”

  “Well golly gee willikers, now you’ve got me all kinds of curious.”

  “We’re here to hire you,” I said.

  Meadow blinked. Then she squinted, as if she didn’t think she’d quite heard me right.

  “Lauren’s gravy train is coming to its last stop,” I said, “and trust me, you want to jump off before it gets there.”

  She snorted. “Damn right. That’s a little too much crazy even for me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think she’s got a snowball’s chance in hell of pulling this off. When she messes it up and dies, though, eventually a hundred dead bums are gonna lead right back to her front door, which means they’ll eventually lead to me. No, I’m taking my cash and going somewhere with sunny skies, frosty drinks, and no extradition treaty with the US.”

  “Guess again,” I told her. “Lauren’s going to win. Once she ascends, there won’t be anywhere on this planet you can hide. There won’t be much of a planet left at all. I hate to say it—believe me, you have no idea how much I hate to say it—but we need your help.”

  I walked behind her. Most people would tense up a little, losing sight of their interrogator like that, but she was cool as a cucumber. I uncuffed her. She rubbed the red lines around her wrists, looking dubious.

  “A hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars,” I told her.

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “A hundred and twenty-five thousand, in the currency of your choice, deposited to the bank of your choice, once Lauren is dead.”

  “Bull. Shit. You’re piss broke, Faust. You don’t have that kind of money.”

  “No,” Caitlin said, “but I do.”

  She strode slowly across the room, stepping out where Meadow could see her. Meadow’s eyes widened. It was the closest thing to fear I’d ever seen on her face.

  “You’re that succubus,” Meadow said, “the one Lauren bound. Why are you still here? Faust, why is she still here?”

  Caitlin nodded. “Right. Nicky Agnelli told you he found some random bottom-feeder to enslave, didn’t he? Never trust a career criminal, they’re always working an angle of their own. Let me properly introduce myself. I am Caitlleanabruaudi, the Wingtaker. Hound of the Court of Jade Tears.”

  “Hey,” Meadow said, “what happened back there, that was all Lauren. Her plan, her magic. I was just along for the ride. Nothing personal.”

  “Just along for the ride,” Caitlin mused, looming over her. “Much like Carl Holt and Artie Kaufman. Would you like to know what’s happening to them, in hell, right at this very moment?”

  She leaned close and whispered in Meadow’s ear.

  Now I knew what Meadow looked like when she was afraid.

  Caitlin stepped back and folded her arms. “Almost every single person involved in my abduction has been delivered to their doom, or soon will be. You’re a very lucky woman, Meadow Brand. You’re in the right place at the right time to make history. The one human to ever tempt my wrath and escape.”

  Jennifer and I might as well have been invisible now. Meadow only had eyes for Caitlin. She rubbed her hands, trying to hide the way they shook.

  “What do you want from me?” Meadow asked.

  Caitlin nodded my way. “As Daniel said, we want to hire your services. I will guarantee the sum. You will help facilitate our plan. Once Lauren is dead, I’ll wire the money to the account of your choosing, in the currency of your choosing.”

  “Then what?” Meadow said, uncertain.

  “Then you’re free to leave. Which you will. Make no mistake, Meadow Brand, your sins are not forgiven. I want you gone. Where you go is up to you, but you will never set foot in my territory again.”

  “You lost your Vegas privileges,” I added.

  Meadow thought it over. A bit of her old cockiness came back as she shook her head, glancing between us.

  “No way,” she said. “Hundred and twenty-five grand? Might as well offer me a million. You won’t pay. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that ‘payment after the job is done�
�� is just another way of saying, ‘We’ll kill you and keep the money.’ I want the payment up front. All of it.”

  “So you can stab us in the back and skip town with the cash,” I said. “Not happening.”

  “You gotta admit, we’re a little more trustworthy than you are,” Jennifer said.

  Meadow barked out a laugh. “A witch, a sorcerer, and a fucking demon from hell say I’m not trustworthy.”

  “You’re a psychopath,” I said.

  She shrugged. “I’ve been told that means that I know the difference between right and wrong, I just don’t care. Hey, that description sound like anybody you know, Faust?”

  “You’re not getting the money up front,” I said.

  “Then I guess you’re not getting my help. What a predicament.”

  I reached into my pocket and took out a USB stick. A black little rectangle, sheathed in transparent plastic tinted the color of smoke.

  “How about I put up some collateral?”

  “I’m listening,” Meadow said.

  “On this stick is a scanned document. That document, handwritten by me, confesses to two outstanding murders. Full details, full disclosure. You give this to the cops, I go to prison, period. Once you walk out of here, take it to your favorite lawyer. Instruct him that if anything happens to you—like you die or disappear for any reason—he should turn it over to Special Agent Harmony Black of the FBI. She’s leading the Agnelli task force, and she’s already got a hard-on for me.”

  “Risky.” Meadow eyed the USB stick and licked her chapped lips. “What’s to stop me from just going straight to the feds the second I walk out this door? You ruined my face, Faust. You think I don’t want payback?”

  “I’m gambling that you want the cash more than you want revenge. Like you said yourself, eventually a light is going to shine down on all of Lauren Carmichael’s dirty deeds. You won’t get away clean. You need to be thinking about your retirement options, somewhere far away from Uncle Sam’s reach. Hundred and twenty-five Gs will go a long way toward buying your very own tropical cabana.”

  “You mean three hundred,” Meadow said.

  That was when I knew we had her.

  “You’re asking a lot,” Caitlin said.

  “No,” Meadow said, “you are. Just asking me to set foot in that tower again is worth a hundred easy, let alone taking the risk of crossing Lauren. I can get you in. I can tell you everything you need to know. Nobody else can. I want three hundred thousand dollars. I’m betting the First Bank of Hell is good for it.”

  “One hundred and seventy-five,” Caitlin said.

  “Two seventy-five.”

  “Two hundred and ten thousand dollars.”

  “Two thirty,” Meadow said.

  Caitlin nodded. “Agreed. But you do everything you’re told, when you’re told to do it, or the deal is off. Until Lauren is dead, we own you. Understood?”

  “I just live to make people happy,” Meadow said. “Where do we start?”

  She held out her hand. I gave her the USB stick. She clutched it tight.

  “We start with Lauren,” I said. “When’s the attunement ritual?”

  “Any time now. She’s been pent up in the Enclave with her little mad scientist nerd buddies, getting ready for the big day. The killing cells below are all stocked with only the finest and ripest of unbathed street trash, just waiting for the sacrificial knife. Figuratively speaking. I mean, knives? You know how long that would take?”

  “Are there any traps?” I said. “Anything that would kill the hostages if an alarm sounds, like the tanks of lye at the New Life building?”

  Meadow smiled. “Did you like that one? My idea. I would have loved to see that thing go off. But no, Lauren wouldn’t let me touch shit at the Enclave. Something about misaligning the ‘perfect occult circuitry’ of the walls. Besides, with all the work it took to snatch that many people off the streets, can you imagine if they all got smeared by accident and we had to start over? Timing is kind of a thing here.”

  “So how does the sacrifice work?” Jen asked.

  “Funneling glyphs set into the cell floors in mosaic tile,” Meadow said. “Huge ones. Those Xerxes assholes are gonna do the job when Lauren sends the command down. They’ll just open up with assault rifles and shoot through the cell bars, gun ’em all down. Corpses drop, souls fly up to the penthouse. Crude, and not much fun, but all Lauren needs is one big-ass harvest of life energy. That’ll do it.”

  “Lauren’s in the penthouse?” I said.

  Meadow nodded. “Top floor is all penthouse. It’s this big open space tiled with invocation patterns on the floor, windows all around. Nedry and Clark have a space set off to the side for all their science-geek shit, but they spend most of their time downstairs near the cells. They don’t want to be near Queen Bitch any more than the rest of us do.”

  “I’m going to need a floor plan,” I said. “Hand drawn is fine, whatever you can remember. How about those mannequins of yours? You have any left?”

  “I keep a few in a storage locker, in case of a rainy day. And no, I’m not telling you how they work. That secret isn’t for sale.”

  I shook my head. “No need. Just get ready and do whatever it is you do to make ’em jump up and boogie. Oh, and I’m going to need you to do one other thing before we go in.”

  I told Meadow my plan—the part she needed to know about, anyway—and she nearly tried to walk out right then and there. It took twenty minutes of arguing and Caitlin bumping the payment back up to two hundred and fifty grand, but finally Meadow came around.

  She held on to my collateral as she sauntered out the door, brandishing the USB stick like a schoolkid with a permanent hall pass. Out front, Bentley, Corman, and Margaux stood close and talked in low tones. They glared daggers at Meadow as she strolled by, and she responded with a sneering wave.

  A bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin, Bentley’s brand, sat on the counter next to a couple of empty glasses. Some people drink to celebrate, some drink to numb the pain. There wasn’t a celebratory face in the room.

  “Ta for now, kids,” Meadow said. “I’ll call as soon as Her Highness summons me to her royal court. You miss the call, it’s not my problem.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said, following her out of the back room. “You’ve got your instructions. Follow them.”

  “Long as I get paid,” she said.

  She let herself out. The door swung shut, and the bookstore fell into a hard silence. I felt the weight of every eye in the room.

  Forty-One

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” I said. I didn’t have to direct my words at anybody in particular. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing.

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Corman said.

  “Hey, don’t I always?” I said. Nobody wanted to touch that, so I let it drop and moved on. “Jen, how are we looking on the explosives end of things?”

  “Boom boom check,” she said. “Already got Winslow sourcing it for us. Speaking of, he wants to know when you’re gonna pay him for the car and the piece. He’s gettin’ a little itchy.”

  “Least of my worries right now. Okay, everybody, Lauren could make her move at any time. The second she does, things are going to happen very, very fast. Be ready for it.”

  The party broke up after that. There wasn’t anything left to say, and putting Meadow Brand on the payroll had left a bad taste in everybody’s mouths. Bentley followed me to the door.

  “Daniel—” he started to say.

  “I know.” I reached out, gently, and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. We were all close to Spengler, but Sophia was special to you and Corman. You’ve got more reason than anyone to want Meadow dead for what she’s done. I wish there was another way. I just need you to trust me right now.”

  “There are times when I disagree with you,” he said, “and times when I worry about you, but I always trust you. Just tell me one thing and make an old man happy.”

  �
��What’s that?” I said.

  His pale eyes were grave.

  “In the end,” he said, “will all debts be paid?”

  I squeezed his shoulder and gave him a nod.

  I should have felt more confident than I did. With Senator Roth and Meadow Brand in my hip pocket, I’d turned two of Lauren’s strongest allies into turncoats. I had the inside line on her movements and a plan in play to cut her off at the knees.

  Still, I couldn’t shake this creeping feeling of doom, like everything was about to go horribly wrong.

  • • •

  The next morning I woke up in a suite at the Medici, swamped under too many covers and too many pillows and nursing a tequila hangover. I vaguely remembered feeling like I’d relied on Bentley and Corman’s hospitality a little too often lately. Caitlin’s bed was out—she was slated to make contingency plans and drive all night, getting ready for Case Exodus. I was better off alone for the night, anyway. After bringing in Meadow Brand, I wasn’t sure if anyone wanted me around.

  Somewhere along the line I’d ended up on the Strip, barhopping from casino to casino and soaking up the night all alone. Details got a little hazy from there. Getting drunk and splurging what little cash I had left on a fancy hotel room was half bad move, half comfortable old habit.

  My phone vibrated on the end table, demanding my attention. Its purple face glowed. I picked it up and mumbled something close to a greeting.

  “Showtime, twinkle-toes,” Meadow Brand said. “Hope you packed your tap shoes.”

  I shot upright, tossing the sheets aside. A bucket of ice water and a pot of double espresso wouldn’t have woken me up as fast.

  “When?”

  “Tonight,” she said. “I’m supposed to show up around seven. Fireworks kick off at nine, followed shortly thereafter by the end of the world. The Washington Post is calling it, ‘Do not miss, a real humdinger of a show.’”

  “I need to make some phone calls and line up all the dominoes. Come meet me at the Medici as soon as you can.”