Vegas Rain

by Rick Murcer

  On the right door was taped a handwritten, four-line note.

  DEAN AND I ARE GLAD YOU SHOWED. ESPECIALLY DEAN. TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES AND SOCKS AND ALL OF YOUR JEWLERY, THEN COME TO THE BACK OF THE BUILDING. WE HAVE ACCOMODATIONS FOR EACH OF YOU.

  Manny exhaled and glanced at the others. “Metal detector, like we suspected. Just do it.”

  Alex was the last to bare his feet.

  He stood and nodded he was ready.

  “Into the lion’s den. Shall we?” said Manny.

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Pulling open the door, he walked through the virtually vacant office, the smell of must and mold replacing any odor that may have given the area a sense of its original purpose.

  Reaching the double-steel door marked WAREHOUSE in faded red, he stopped. Sophie moved up to his left, Josh to his right, and Alex a step to Sophie’s left. He was pretty sure none of them were all that eager to go through with the next step.

  Although he knew the reason they were standing here, and that Dean was in the clutches of a madman, wasn’t his fault, he wondered, again, if his plan to flush this killer out into the open would have been better as a last resort.

  He shook it off. It didn’t matter at this point. Guilt and second guessing would only distract him and God knew he needed all he had.

  Reaching out to push the door open, he pulled his hand back. Maybe this was wrong, maybe they should leave. Maybe . . .

  “We got this, one way or the other,” said Sophie, without looking his way.

  She was right. They’d gone too far to turn back now.

  But that couldn’t stop his heart from racing at the thought of what they might encounter in the next room.

  As if the killer knew what he was thinking, the intercom system filled with static then boomed.

  “Come now, don’t be shy. Your destinies lie behind those doors.”

  The voice was once again unmistakable. It was the same one from the casino. No doubt about that. That meant Dean was somewhere in the building, which was reason enough to continue.

  Manny pushed open both doors and took several cautious steps inside and then, as if he were hit with an invisible wall, stopped in his footsteps. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but what lay before him hadn’t entered his brain.

  By the way Sophie, Alex, and Josh reacted, they were all in the same boat.

  Disbelief covered them all.

  In the back of the room were five large, high-backed chairs. One in the center and four others branched away from it into what appeared to be the west, north, south, and east. The four peripheral seats were covered with blue velvet while the one in the middle was decorated in red. Each of the four directional chairs had two thick cables running from it, leading to the three-foot platform that supported the larger chair in the center. Directly next to the center chair’s right was a tarp covering something long, fairly wide, and two feet high.

  That wasn’t all. Far from it.

  Each of the chairs had a large carving resting on the pinnacle of each chair back. They were replicas of the Canopic jars they’d seen in the room where Grace was turned into a twenty-first-century mummy.

  The resemblance for the situation was unreal. And the eerie symbolism wasn’t lost on Manny. He suddenly knew why the Canopic jars had been placed the way they were and why there had been a fifth. It was no coincidence that there were five members of the BAU and that each of them played a role within the group. The killer knew that and was about to define those roles further.

  He had not left any detail untouched. Not good.

  Manny felt his dread reach deeper into the stratosphere when he realized that the chair facing the west was occupied.

  Dean Mikus sat bound by leather straps to his forearms and lower legs, head resting on his chest. Manny could see the trail of blood running down the side of his face and fought more panic.

  Seeing what he saw, Sophie swore under her breath and took two steps before Manny could grab her arm.

  The killer was right on cue.

  “Stay where you’re at until I tell you to move. And no, Agent Mikus isn’t dead—yet—but he will die quickly if any of you do anything rash.”

  His voice had changed again. Less Argyle-like and closer to what Manny suspected were his normal conversational inflexions. The voice was still a disguise, but the facade was melting away as the killer’s plan came closer to its climax. Manny heard no panic or even excitement in that voice. He almost wished he could. This man was in complete control of himself.

  “All right. I want Agents Lee, Corner, and Downs to sit in the seats I tell you to sit in. Agent Lee, to the left of Agent Mikus. Agent Downs to her left, and Agent Corner left of him. Once you’re in your proper place, Agent Williams will make sure everyone stays put tightening your restraints. Then he’ll join you by taking his place in the middle.”

  “You’ll have two minutes to complete what I just instructed you to do. Again, don’t test me. Oh by the way, Agent Williams, I’ll know if you’ve not tightened the shackles sufficiently. The chairs are equipped with sensors that will tell me when you’ve done your job.”

  “What the hell is this all about?” asked Manny, keeping calm.

  “I ask the questions. You simply do what you’re told. You’ll see your truths soon enough.”

  Disconcerting how steady his voice remained.

  “What if we end this right now? What if we leave?”

  The laughter was genuine. Crazy but genuine.

  “You have no weapons. I know that because of the metal detector you walked through when you entered the building, and I assure you that if you morons touch any of the doors from inside, you’ll set off pressure locks that seal this place like Fort Knox. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Follow my instructions, and maybe, just maybe, one of you will make it out of here.”

  As he talked, Manny searched the area, as the others had been doing, trying to locate their twisted host. Nothing.

  “Come out. Let’s talk—”

  “Oh. We’ll have a conversation, Agent Williams, as you might imagine. Now go, agents, go. You have one hundred twenty seconds.

  The four of them looked at each other. Manny nodded, and they each hurried toward the hellish setup that would eventually imprison them.

  Josh reached his chair first. Manny did what he was told and strapped his boss in. Their eyes met briefly. Then he went to Alex’s chair and repeated his assignment.

  This better work, Williams.

  Sophie was last. She was late getting into her chair because she’d stopped to kiss Dean on the head.

  Hell, he didn’t blame her. He would have done the same thing.

  Besides, this maniac had gone too far to let a few seconds spoil his fun.

  He tightened her restraints, making sure her right wrist and hand were at the angle she needed, gave her a quick look, and then walked over to his chair and stood beside it, waiting.

  “Well done, agents. Who said you Feds couldn’t follow directions? Now sit in the chair, Manny. Do it now.”

  The voice had changed again, and it was almost familiar. The intercom distorted his words, but at that moment the killer seemed to shed any concern for concealment.

  “I think not. Come make me, you cowardly piece of shit,” Manny yelled.

  A door flew open some twenty-five feet to his left. Manny watched as the killer stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a black trench coat, a black Fedora, and his face was fully covered in facial hair. His disguise was topped off by wide, dark sunglasses.

  “Sit down, Manny. Do it now or I’ll kill everyone. You have ten seconds.”

  This time the killer was close to losing it. Manny had pushed the button he’d hoped for.

  “No. And why are you calling me Manny instead of—”

  Maybe it was the heightened state of Manny’s emotions or maybe a sense of impending doom, or maybe he had subconsciously simply put all of the facts in the right order. He didn’t know and didn’t c
are. As hard as it was for him to believe, the use of his name, disguised voice or not, made the killer’s true identity leap into his mind.

  He stood paralyzed in disbelief.

  Tilting his head, the man Manny had known for over fifteen years allowed the black coat to slip to the floor.

  “I see you’ve finally figured it out, Manny.”

  Slowly, the killer removed the facial hair and hat, casting them aside.

  Behind him, Manny heard Alex Downs swear in disbelief.

  Mike Crosby, Gavin’s son, walked toward them, wearing the grin of a madman and a Glock 22 in his hand.

  CHAPTER-61

  Over the years, Manny’s ability to compartmentalize had served him well. He needed that ability now. He’d known Mike Crosby since he was a teen. But apparently he hadn’t known him as well as he assumed. All of them now needed to block out who Mike Crosby was and concentrate on getting out of this.

  Manny’s stomach dropped. That was going to be a trick.

  “Mike. What the hell are you doing?” asked Manny.

  Taking a few more steps, Mike raised the gun, reached into his pocket, and took out a cell phone.

  “What I should have done after Lexy and my Mom died. Getting rid of the real problems: you and this bunch of losers. Now sit your ass down or I swear I’ll start killing each one of these people.”

  Manny was over the shock as much as could be expected. Survival mode ensured that.

  “Why this? Why all of this?” asked Manny.

  “I told you to sit down. No more questions. I’m here to do what is necessary. What has to be done.”

  “But Mike—”

  The younger Crosby’s face twisted into something evil, and he raised his weapon toward Josh Corner, then fired.

  The sound of the gunshot was the most awful sound Manny had ever endured. Josh’s subsequent mind-bending scream was worse.

  Manny spun toward Josh and saw the blood gushing from his left shoulder. The pain and disbelief in his boss’s eyes were hard to separate. Neither belonged.

  “Get into the damned chair Williams, or Lee is next and it won’t be in the shoulder,” snarled Mike.

  The gun barrel’s heat next to his ear told Manny that Mike had moved close.

  Can I get him now?

  No. It would be suicide to try anything.

  Manny did the only thing he could do. He sat in the padded chair.

  He immediately felt the vibration of something powerful under his seat and wondered what it was and how it fit into Mike’s fantasy. He was almost glad when Sophie interrupted his thoughts.

  “You son of a bitch, Mike. I don’t care why you’re doing what you’re doing, but I’m going to take you into the next world,” she screamed.

  Mike ignored her and, while holding the gun to Manny’s face, clamped the metal bindings over each of Manny’s forearms. The first one clicked into place, the second followed suit. Manny wasn’t sure why his bindings were different, but he was sure Mike would clue him in, one way or the other.

  Manny shot a look toward Josh and saw that the blood flow was steady, but not the worst he’d seen. Still, Josh wouldn’t last long if it wasn’t stopped.

  Mike backed away from Manny, pointing to all of them as he swung around in a full circle.

  “Get a good look. All of you. I want you all to feel my pain. My loss. It’s your fault that I’m alone, and soon one of you will know what that feels like.”

  “We can talk about this, Mike. You can stop what you’re doing. It’s not too late,” said Manny, trying to reason with him.

  “Oh, it’s too late Manny. For you. You lost Louise and I believed it right. Fair. You should have caught Argyle before he killed Lexy. You should have helped my mother before she was killed. But I thought you would continue to be miserable and pay for your sins so I coped with losing them the best that I could. But then you married that Irish bitch and you were back in the saddle. Finding happiness, and I was still in hell. And these poor excuses for human beings helped you get there.”

  “Mike, I loved Lexy and your mom. We did our best to—”

  The blow came fast, and Manny’s head jerked to the right, stars doing a temporary dance in front of his eyes.

  “Don’t mention them. You don’t have the right,” he said, venom in his eyes.

  “Big brave man hitting people when they’re strapped to a chair. Let me loose. I dare you,” said Sophie, her expression full of rage.

  “No. My turn first.”

  Looking quickly toward Dean, Manny saw that he was awake. Weak, hurt, but awake.

  “No, me,” said Alex.

  Josh chimed in. “Hell, I’m shot, and I could kick your ass.”

  Mike stood his ground, looking at each of them in turn without speaking.

  He finally nodded, then stepped toward Manny and put his hand on the tarp covering the long, oblong shape to his side.

  When he spoke, he sounded like the Mike Crosby he’d known for the last two decades. It was so damn bizarre, no matter how many times he witnessed it. Manny would never get used to psychopaths careening in and out of worlds and realities belonging only to them without so much as a thought. He supposed that was a good thing.

  “This cover each other’s ass mentality was why I knew I could count on you showing up. All of you. You are loyal and would never intentionally leave each other out in the cold, so to speak. Your problem is, however, that you don’t know when to quit. That’s why you’re where you are.”

  “Oh, and you’re drinking from the cup of sanity,” said Sophie.

  “My sanity isn’t the issue. I believe it’s yours, particularly Manny’s.”

  “Why would you say that?” asked Manny.

  Keep him talking, Williams. Keep him talking.

  “Because you’re obsessed with your life as a profiler.”

  “How so?”

  Mike laughed. “Let me explain. From the moment I pulled that body out of the ground and had it brought out here, you thought Argyle alive.”

  Mike was right. Manny had believed that.

  “You see, you’re not the only one who can study habits of the rich and psycho. It took me a year, but I learned everything about him, even how to speak the way he did from that damn DVD he’d left on the cruise ship. Then I started playing games with you. The couple in the casket, the text, the phone call to my worthless father, the woman in the hotel room, the dead agent driving you from the airport—all of it was thrown out there for you to follow a hidden trail.”

  “We knew you weren’t Argyle hours ago,” said Manny.

  Mike shook his head. “It didn’t matter. You thought it was possible, and you came here, to Vegas. That’s what was important. You needed to be in this town of good times to suffer horribly. And you will. The best way to get you here was for you to think that the Good Doctor had somehow tricked you. Obviously that worked. The only thing I really wanted you to sort out was the meaning of the Canopic jars. Everything else was a diversion, well almost. You see, Argyle is here.”

  With a swipe of his hand, Mike pulled the tarp from the hidden object.

  Manny blinked as he stared into the casket. Mike had angled it away from the others and the only way to see who was inside was to be near where Manny sat.

  His eyes refocused to the head of the box causing his heart to jump. The mostly decayed body of Fredrick Argyle lay in state. He was almost unrecognizable, except for one major part of his condition. The right side of his skull was partly missing. The bullet Manny had killed him with had also displaced much of his facial structure, causing that side of his skull to pattern in an unnatural arch.

  Mixed emotions flooded him. Argyle was dead, no question. Manny knew deep down, finally, that it was him. He felt a final surge of relief. But that wasn’t all he felt. He was suddenly angry at himself. He’d let his emotions run away with him. His fear and hatred had led him to the obsession Mike had described. He’d taken his unit from the pan into the fire.

  �
�Is it him?” asked Alex, his voice higher than normal.

  Manny nodded. “It’s him. The same man I killed in Galway.”

  “Oh. I can tell you’re angry and upset, Agent. Don’t be too hard on yourself, yet. Argyle or not, eventually the BAU would have come to Las Vegas looking for me. This way, however, you got here sooner.”

  He was right about that. Somehow that didn’t make Manny feel any better.

  Mike stepped toward him. Bending close to Manny’s face, he spoke softly. He was losing his focus on reality again. This wasn’t just a psychotic episode. His friend was in another world.

  “Did you get the rest of this setup, Agent Williams? Did you get it?”

  Exhaling, Manny shifted to the moment. “You tell me. Dean and Alex are represented by the liver and stomach because they process and sort out details, then break them down into details we can understand. Josh is parallel with the intestines because he’s the leader and the backbone, the guts of the unit. Sophie represents the lungs because she’s the most vocal, our real voice at times. How am I doing?”

  Manny watched Mike’s face break into a crooked smile. “Well. You’re doing well. What of you?”

  “You believe that I’m the brains in the outfit, so you made a fifth jar and put that poor woman’s brain inside. You think the unit revolves around me, as evidenced by this setup. But you’re wrong. We work as one. We always have. It’s the only way to accomplish what we need.”

  “Congratulations. You’ve solved that part of the task. And you might be right about doing everything together. You’re going to die together. I guarantee that. So what’s next, Agent?”

  Taking another quick look over his shoulder at Josh, he saw the blood dripping on the floor from his left arm and Josh was losing his color. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

  Here we go. He turned toward Mike.

  “I have a question. Why here? Why Vegas?”

  He shrugged. “Why not here? It suited me. And, like I said, I wanted you to suffer in a place where you wouldn’t expect to suffer. I want your families to have to deal with the pain of getting your bodies home. Above all, I wanted you out of your element and into mine to complete your task, so to speak.”