by Luke Murphy
Dale’s phone rang again. He checked the ID and it was the same number. Dale clicked on.
“I see your phone light on. You’re looking at the list, aren’t you?”
“Who is this?”
He moved back to the window and looked out. This time he saw the red-tip glow of a cigarette. It was the middle of the night, pitch dark outside, but Dale could make out the silhouette of a figure. Someone stood at the corner of the building looking up into his apartment.
Who would have known that he’d taken the list? The only people around were Jimmy and the guards, but the guards were dead and Jimmy wouldn’t have said anything to anyone. Did Jimmy even know he had it?
“We need to meet,” the voice said.
Dale turned off his phone, grabbed his gun, and left the apartment.
The smoking man was still on the grounds, standing at the corner of the building, hidden within the shadows of the night. Dale walked up to him.
As Dale drew closer, the man lit another cigarette, the flame from the lighter giving Dale a good look at the mysterious caller. He was tall, thin, and looked to be in his fifties. He wore a cheap suit under a charcoal overcoat, his brown hair neatly parted to the right, and his facial skin an unhealthy shade, somewhere between a pale yellow and light green. His neck skin hung loose and his cheeks and jowls sagged. He had overgrown eyebrows and there was red in his eyes, which drooped at the corners. He smoked energetically on a long, filtered cigarette.
“The list,” the man said.
Dale ignored the order. “Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I know who you are.” He had an unctuous smile. “Dale Michael Dayton, born May first, 1969 in Lincoln, Nebraska. 5’10”, 175 pounds. Wife Betty, son Sammie, currently separated and living here. Grade two detective of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. Annual salary seventy-thousand dollars. Partner is Detective Jimmy Mason. Personal qualities: aggressive, loyal, patient. You’ve been the lead investigator in fifty-six murder cases—”
“Okay, okay,” Dale cut him off. “So, you know who I am. I asked who you are.”
“What matters is what I know, and what that list in your hand means.”
To Dale, the man looked and sounded like someone you’d find at the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He’d have to tread carefully. Dale knew that the CIA had some of the best trained liars in the world.
“Who are the Deadly Sins?”
The man spit and pushed back his thinning hair. “Fuck.” He took a puff on his cigarette, dropped it on the ground and crushed it out with a cheap pair of dress shoes. He lit up another cigarette. “Give me that list, now!” The man held out his hand.
Dale pulled the paper away. “Not so fast. Who are these men?” He held up the paper.
The man looked around and took a couple of intense drags on his new cigarette. “They’re all former U.S. Marines. All of them have been recognized for exceptional service to their country at one time or another.”
“Who are they now?”
“Rogues.” He took a healthy pull on his cigarette and blew out smoke. “These seven individuals turned on us. They were pissed off at the military, at the system. It was all about compensation.”
“Money?”
“Yes. Christ, I guess it doesn’t matter now, since you’re already knee deep in this shit anyway, and your life is in as much jeopardy as the rest of us.” Another drag. “A soldier named Peter Sutcliffe was released by his corps after he’d been injured in a tour and received very little in the way of financial support for his family. Sutcliffe was part of a marine special forces group along with the men on that list, a group that was never on paper or recognized by the government.”
“What does all this have to do with Sutcliffe?”
“Sutcliffe took his own life shortly after. Before he was killed, he’d sent a letter to each of his friends, these men, telling them what had happened to him and his family. We intercepted one of the letters and read it. It was very detailed. These men took matters into their own hands.”
“The Seven Deadly Sins?” Dale tried to keep up, but the man’s vagueness made it hard to tell what he was talking about.
“That’s the name they gave themselves. Each man was designated a certain sin/call sign. They all gave themselves that snake tattoo to signify their military team, to indicate they were part of the same family, as well as different individual tattoos bearing the name and logo of their particular sin.”
“Who are the Deadly Sins?”
“These men went AWOL and joined an underground world of murder for hire. They became assassins, the ultimate weapons, trained by their country, the very best in the world to kill first and ask questions later. They charged insane prices, and syphoned money to Sutcliffe’s widow as a way of payment for her husband’s death.”
“How long have you known about this?”
“We suspected their proclivities early on. These men display need-driven behavior. Once they left the Corps, they couldn’t just stop killing. They were in too deep. So, we monitored them, waiting for the right time to move in and take them, until a few went off the grid. That’s when we got worried.”
“Jesus Christ!” Dale thought he was going to be sick. He studied the man. The pallor of his skin had Dale questioning his health. “What does all this mean?” Dale finally handed the paper to the man.
He took the crumpled sheet and looked at it. “The circled names are men we’ve brought in. They’ve been arrested at gunpoint and court-martialed. They’re well-locked away with no chance of ever seeing the light of day again.”
“Yeah, that’s what we thought about Derek Baxter.” The man said nothing, puffing away and lighting another smoke. His expression was unreadable. “An ‘X’ means…”
“Dead. Confirmed. Obviously Derek Baxter should be crossed off now, thanks to your friend. This Calvin Watters guy.”
Dale shook his head. “Four circled, now two crossed out. What about this other guy,” he pointed to the paper in the man’s hand. “Jackson North. His name hasn’t been touched.”
“Still AWOL.”
Dale looked at the man, who seemed to show no sign of emotion and wondered about the command structure, operational procedures and investigative strategies to stop the Deadly Sins. First it was a Colonel, then a Major General and now this guy. How high up did it go and who else knew about it?
He drew a deep, angry breath. “You mean there’s another one of these monsters out there? If that’s the case, the scope of the investigation has just broadened.”
The man remained silent.
Dale looked out into the Vegas night. He knew that Sin City was just waking up, really starting to come alive. The strip night life. The city, or the country for that matter, had no idea what was going on.
“Why weren’t we told about this before?” Dale asked.
“The Colonel probably didn’t want any outsiders involved, or to know the truth. I suppose you were on a need-to-know basis. Now, you need to know.”
“What can you tell me about him, about North?”
“Calculating. Precise. He’s a details guy. Serious. Intelligent. By the book. He was trained in holds and leads, collection, and sniper employment. North was Derek Baxter’s spotter in two tours. They were best friends, inseparable. It was North and Baxter who concocted this scheme to make more money.” The man sounded as if he might be quoting somebody.
“Spotter?”
“Every sniper has a spotter, almost like an apprentice, a sniper in training. They trust each other with their lives. They’re like brothers. Blood brothers.”
“That doesn’t sound good. His whereabouts?”
The man nodded, looking grim. “We don’t know. He hasn’t been seen or heard from in months.”
“You think he’ll come out when he learns Baxter is dead?”
“We haven’t released news of the death, and we don’t plan to, to buy us some time.”
“Time for what?�
�� Dale eyed the man.
He closed his eyes, and rubbed his eyebrows. “All we’ve told the public was that Derek Baxter has been detained and is in military custody.” He opened up his eyes and looked at Dale, fear rising deep in the back of his sockets. “But eventually North will find out the truth. When he hears about Baxter, and he will, you better believe that North will want blood.”
♣
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Message from the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up a copy of Wild Card. I hope you enjoyed reading this novel as much as I did writing it. My goal was to take these characters to another level. I hope I succeeded.
I had always hoped to write a sequel to Dead Man’s Hand, I just didn’t know it would take five years. I really missed the characters in this series, and it felt great getting back inside their heads. I had so much fun revisiting this cast that I can definitely see another book in the future.
This is a work of fiction. I did not base the characters or plot on any real people or events. Any familiarities are strictly coincidence.
There were so many unanswered questions at the end of Dead Man’s Hand, I started formulating ideas for book #2 soon after the first novel was published. I purposely left things hanging to leave the reader guessing, and I hope that I have answered those questions in this book.
Setting this novel throughout different continents was definitely a challenge. The Internet is quite remarkable for research purposes. With the research I did on Vegas for Dead Man’s Hand, during my frequent visits, made that part an easy transition from the first one.
For more information about my books, please visit my website at www.authorlukemurphy.com. You can also “like” my Facebook page and follow me on Twitter.
I’m always happy to hear from readers. Please be assured that I read each email personally, and will respond to them in good time. I’m always happy to give advice to aspiring writers, or answer questions from readers. You can direct your questions/comments to the contact form on my website. I look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
Luke
About the Author
Luke Murphy is the international bestselling author of Dead Man’s Hand (Imajin Books, 2012) and Kiss & Tell (Imajin Books, 2015).
Murphy played six years of professional hockey before retiring in 2006. His sports column, “Overtime” (Pontiac Equity), was nominated for the 2007 Best Sports Page in Quebec, and won the award in 2009. He has also worked as a radio journalist (CHIPFM 101.7).
Murphy lives in Shawville, QC with his wife, three daughters and pug. He is a teacher who holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Marketing, and a Bachelor of Education (Magna Cum Laude).
Wild Card, a sequel to Dead Man’s Hand, is Murphy’s third novel.
For more information on Luke and his books, visit: www.authorlukemurphy.com, ‘like’ his Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLukeMurphy, and follow him on Twitter: www.twitter.com/AuthorLMurphy
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