by Matt Drabble
Several small fires were dying, and some of his furniture looked beyond repair scorched by flame. He walked toward Jess unsure of what to say before changing course to match Rybeck’s.
“Is that Johnson?” He asked, pointing to the drapes on the floor by the window.
“Yes” came Rybeck’s shaky reply.
“Is he dead?” Jess enquired from behind them, her voice steadier than Rybeck’s.
Ghost didn’t answer; instead he placed a hand on Rybeck’s trembling shoulder and gently eased him away from the body. “Eddie” he instructed. He had to look around irritably when he realized that the big man was not at his shoulder, “EDDIE!” He barked loudly.
The big man shuffled sulkily towards him, he looked inquisitively at Eddie as he walked slowly with his head down.
“Get on the clock” he punctuated with a meaty slap on Eddie’s arm when he finally reached him.
Eddie looked up, and Ghost saw a flash of anger like lightening across a dark night, brief and then gone so quickly, that he was not sure if he’d seen it at all. Puzzled by his attitude, but without the luxury of time to pursue it, he pointed to the body and made a quick twirl in the air with his finger. It was one of many gestures that existed between them; it meant that Eddie was to approach the body from the opposite direction. They edged up to the body on either side; Ghost had seen enough movies to expect Johnson to explode up off the floor at any second. He pulled the handgun from his belt, knowing that the weapon may well prove useless, but unwilling to let go of his comfort blanket just yet.
His fears proved groundless, he reached down and pulled the remains of the burned drapes away, revealing what was left of Johnson beneath. The body was scorched beyond recognition; the flesh was singed and hung in ripe strips away from his face and the stench of burning seared into his nostrils. The heavy curtain material was fused into the body in several places, and the gaps that showed Johnson were mercifully few. The flesh in between was pink and raw, huge yellow blisters fit to burst covered his blackened skin. The body suddenly coughed and spluttered into life, jerking and bucking violently on the floor, Ghost and Eddie jumped backwards in shock. Jess suddenly appeared at his shoulder, her touch was light as her small hand grabbed his arm, and Rybeck also arrived.
“Oh shit” Rybeck muttered low and scared.
Ghost looked down, some of the wounds were healing, the raw pink flesh faded and whitened. The blisters shrunk in retreat and Johnson’s face began to twitch with a kind of life.
Ghost sank to his knees and grabbed Johnson by his charred collar, “Who did this” he roared into the monster's face dragging it up and into his own. “Who is it?” he shook the body.
Johnson opened his one working eye, his mouth twisted into a sick lopsided grin as the damaged muscles struggled to reform.
Ghost felt the strength begin to return to Johnson as a charcoaled hand gripped his own, the skin slid off like fried chicken and his stomach flipped.
He released the man and stood over him again, “Pass me that” he instructed Eddie pointing at the discarded silver poker that had begun the damage.
Eddie passed him the tool and he gripped it in both hands by the handle, twisting his clenched fists. His forearms rippled with the effort, and he raised the poker up to eye level. He drove down with full force, the poker piercing Johnson’s chest and the dead man laughed, the sound was hollow and terrifying. He yanked the poker free and drove it down again, the silver tip smashed into Johnson’s chest once more. The wound was bloodless, and still the laughter did not stop.
A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, “A little to the left” Rybeck offered, his voice ailing.
Ghost drove the poker down for a third time, this time his aim was perfect, and the sharp tip pierced Johnson’s heart. Instantly the laughter stopped and he lay still.
“Oh man, oh man” Rybeck stuttered.
“What the hell do we do now?” Jess asked her voice steady and calm.
“We get out of here, if Johnson knew that we were here, then there’s no telling how many others might be on the way” Ghost answered.
“Where do we go?” Eddie asked his voice petulant and childish.
“We just get moving” Ghost said unwilling to waste time finding out what was troubling the big man.
“Don’t you think…?” Rybeck addressed Ghost with a policeman’s eye pointing at the burnt body.
“Shit, I always loved this house” Ghost sighed.
“You can’t mean” Jess said looking down towards the basement level, “But all of your collection, it would be like destroying the Louvre”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it will survive or maybe we’ll get lucky and not have to live to see it ruined” Ghost shrugged.
He pulled some of the less fire retardant pieces of furniture towards the fireplace; he nipped into the kitchen and retrieved several jars and bottles of flammable liquids. He squirted the liquids and smashed the bottles across the room. The fire examiners would no doubt be able to prove arson, but he needed an injection of time and space, more than an insurance claim. With a large sigh of regret he threw a lit lighter into the pooling flammable liquid mix, the flames sprung into life and danced across the floor. He ushered the others out of the front door and into the approaching morning, the night still held sway, but the first wisps of morning were heralded by the waking songs of birds.
A large black sedan car was parked opposite the house under the gloomy streetlamp. The rear window was down and a face loomed out towards them. The car’s engine sparked into life as soon as they tumbled out through the front door and into the street. Ghost heard the engine and looked toward the spinning wheels as the car spat gravel and roared off down the lane, he only saw the face for an instant. He closed his eyes and replayed the split second that he had seen the face, again, and again. He slowed the action as he watched the replay run through his mind. He was vaguely aware of voices talking to him and a hand tugging at his sleeve; he shut them all off and focused on the face. His eyes snapped open as Eddie dragged him along the lane away from the impending inferno.
“What the hell’s the matter with you” Jess shouted, “You were just standing there whilst the whole damn house went up”
Ghost’s face fell as he realized just who it was that he had seen.
“Jesus Ghost are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a, well you know, a Ghost” Rybeck said his voice recovering its strength.
“I did” was all he could breathlessly reply.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
April 2012
Kofi drove the car in contemplative silence; Drake punctuated the journey with the occasional thump into the back of the front passenger seat. The seat was filled by one of Kofi’s boy’s, he kept them all rotated so as to not develop favourites. He had made sure that all of his boys were fiercely loyal to him, and to only him. Drake may be their all-father, but they answered to Kofi. He had been their sun and moon before their turning, and he continued to be after. For now he followed Drake’s orders as given, he had much to learn about his dark gift and Drake appeared to keep secrets close to his rarely beating chest. Kofi was finding that, without the constant creeping, itching desire for a chemical high, his mind was clearer and sharper than it had been in years. He had also found that injecting food with narcotics and then allowing his boy’s to feed upon them had allowed him to retain his dominance over them.
The man to his left in the passenger seat was already fidgeting and looking desperate; he could not remember their names, and merely assigned them numbers. Drake had been true to his word and had raised him up to sit at his right hand; he was privy to many of Drake’s plans and schemes. The only other member of the inner circle was Jackson Moon, as the accountant was integral to Drake’s kingdom building. Kofi despised him; the nervous little weasel was always scuttling around underfoot. Kofi hated him mostly because Moon seemed to refuse to embrace his new nature. It was said that he had never consummated his rebirth, choosing to feed on an
imal blood, drinking cattle and swine instead of humans. Kofi did not trust Moon, and waited patiently for the day when Drake would have all the information that he needed, and would allow for Moon’s disposal. Drake ranted at great length during the suns setting hours about his betrayal and his imminent vengeance. Drake swore that he would never again allow anyone access to all corners of his empire. Kofi was under no illusions that he could be in danger at any point that it was deemed he knew too much. It fortunately, did not take a genius to realize that an accountant with access and knowledge of the financial underpinnings, was a loose end that would need trimming before long. Kofi had discovered a talent for patience, his future would be long and dark, and he had an eternity to plan for it.
Eddie hung back in the shadows as Jess attempted to flag the taxi down, he had watched as Jess leaned on Ghost for comfort wishing that it was him. He tried to quash the uncharacteristic anger that burned in the pit of his stomach, but it would not die. Ghost could have anyone, but Eddie’s choices had always been of a limited variety. Jimmy had forced some of the girls from the clubs into his bed from time to time. It was always a sick joke of Jimmy’s he had secretly thought, despite Jimmy and Ghost’s attempted denials. He felt like he was beginning to see clearer now, Jess was just another example of Eddie being put back in his place. He had dared to dream outside of his narrow life, and Ghost had taken it away in a flash, perhaps Jimmy and Ghost were not so different after all. He had seen enough television to see the “Good cop, Bad cop” routine, maybe that was their plan all along, to keep Eddie in his place and useful. He began to wonder just what would happen to him if he ever became less than useful. Would he receive a cold metallic barrel to the back of his head on a stretch of deserted wasteland, as had befallen many of those that had displeased Jimmy over the years. He had dug many graves and rolled many bodies into them, as Ghost pulled the trigger, perhaps Jess would like to hear all about that. His lips twisted in cruel pleasure, yes, perhaps that would change her opinion on her new found hero.
He watched as the approaching taxi slowed then stopped, Jess ducked her head into the driver’s window before waving them all forward from the hiding place in the hedgerow. His stomach twisted again as Jess and Ghost met eyes with a smile that passed between them, the cop took his arm and pulled him forward.
“Hurry up Eddie” Rybeck said pleasantly enough.
Eddie had to strongly resist the violent urge to smash the coppers face in; it would be so sweet to show the whole world his power and might. Jess and Ghost had already clambered into the back of the taxi, their manner light and cheery. Rybeck followed them leaving Eddie to heave his bulk into the front. The car sank low on its suspension as he entered with a grunt.
“Whoa, Big fella” the taxi driver exclaimed, “One at a time”, he said laughing at his own humour.
Eddie cringed and felt the silent laughs flow from the back seat. They didn’t dare laugh out loud, but he knew that they were there just the same. He gripped his trousers with powerful paws, his knuckles cracked and whitened, he had been blind for so long but soon he would see.
“Drake, Bennett Drake?” Jess asked again.
“Yes” was the only reply that Ghost could constantly use.
“But that’s impossible” Jess stated.
“Didn’t he disappear or was killed or something, years ago?” Rybeck’s eyes narrowed, as he thought to remember the details from before his time in the city.
“Something like that” Ghost offered enigmatically.
His face looked distant and thoughtful as Jess watched him in the cramp confines of the taxi’s rear seats. The car was an older model, but it was kept clean and tidy. The driver kept his eyes on the road, and his head lowered below the conversation, as most good cab drivers did. Despite this, she did not want them to be having this conversation in front of anyone. She’d flagged the taxi down and told him to head into the city, right now she could not think of anywhere safe for them to all hide. She desperately hoped that one of the others had a good idea up their sleeve as to where they would not be found.
“I hate to the bearer of practical news, but does anyone know where we’re going?” Asked Rybeck interrupting her thoughts.
“Somewhere anonymous and quiet” thought Ghost aloud.
“I did a piece once on the call girl industry” Jess offered. She looked over at Ghost who dropped his eyes. There were a few hotels on the outskirts of the city. Rooms by the hour, patrons, um, coming and going” she added with a slight giggle. It was pleasing to feel what remained of her sense of humour; under the circumstances, it must be a good sign.
“There’s Caesar's?” Rybeck offered.
“The Lincoln?” Said Jess.
“The Palms?” Eddie grumped from the front.
“How about The Venetian?” The taxi driver chimed in.
“The Venetian’s perfect” enthused Rybeck, I’ve been there when I worked vice, it’s quiet and dark”
“Ok” agreed Ghost, “Thanks for the suggestion...” he paused for the driver’s name.
“Bobby, Bobby Darren” and no, not like the singer.
They all chuckled even though Jess had no idea who Bobby Darin was.
The car pulled up to hotel frontage, such as it was, just as the sun rose high over the rooftops. They all exited the car into the lightening glow. Ghost paid Bobby Darren handsomely with a generous tip, receiving an assurance that he would forget ever seeing them. The four of them looked to the heavens and silently sighed with collective relief at the approaching daylight, whilst Eddie looked down at his shoes.
The Venetian Hotel was situated on a lonely stretch of deserted road, ever since the new bypass had quite literally bypassed them completely.
Jim Oswald looked out over his world; he had begun life at The Venetian hotel with grand dreams. He would build the finest establishment in the city and develop it into the finest in the country. His dreams unfortunately had been let down by his rather severe lack of business acumen. His dream had begun well enough; the hotel was an oasis of luxury in an ocean of mediocrity. The faceless gray buildings of the franchised paled in comparison. He insisted on only the finest of everything, the rooms and food were soon the talk of the town. The service was exquisite, and his exclusive client base grew in tandem. But soon reality had struck hard and fast, he was losing money hand over fist and could not get within a million miles of breaking even. He soon discovered that whilst everyone appreciated luxury, not many were prepared to pay for it. Soon his crippling and crumbling finances dragged the hotel down, corners were cut, outgoings slashed and he found himself stuck between the cracks. The Venetian was no longer the height of luxury, nor was it an affordable alternative. The upkeep fell behind and the maintenance slipped, the grass grew long, and the kitchens dirty. The final straw that had broken the camel’s back had been the new road layout. Instead of bringing trade directly to him as the original plans had proposed, a last minute alteration had ruined him. His hotel had died, and with it his dreams. Some two-bit gangster had apparently moved the road that ruined him to suit his own nefarious purposes.
His new friend Bennett Drake had explained everything to him, all about Jimmy Dent and his threats and bribes. Drake had called on him one evening and told him the whole sorry tale. Drake had told him that he himself, had been on the planning committee and had voted for the original plans, only to find himself vetoed. He’d said that everyone had known that Jimmy Dent wanted the new road moved for some reason, and that he’d bought enough votes to achieve this purpose. Drake had sympathized greatly with him, telling him that he could still see the beauty of The Venetian behind her present crumbling façade. Drake had been a great source of comfort and the ignition of a powerful desire for vengeance. Perhaps, Drake had offered, the day will arrive when you may rise and exact your toll for the wrongs done to you. Oswald had bathed in Drake’s words, he’d felt almost hypnotized by the man’s soft and flowing voice that caressed him in waves of promise.
He�
�d arranged everything as Drake had requested, despite the hotel being closed for several months now, the lobby was meticulously maintained and staffed by him so as to look fully functional. There were two rooms on the first floor that were equally functional, but the hotel lay dead beyond these areas. He’d sat day after day for the last three months, waiting for the moment when the call would come. The call that would set him free, allow him to bury his dream, put it to rest and move on with his life. Finally, his patience had been rewarded, the day had arrived, and his time was at hand, he heard the voices outside growing closer.
He sat behind the reception desk, his uniform pressed and spotless and the carpets immaculate. The counters were stocked and dust free, everything that was in the open looked innocent. Behind him the double swing doors that led into the hotel swayed gently in the breeze, as the disconnected fire exit at the rear opened, and many footsteps softly entered. The only lighting was in the lobby, for whatever reason Drake’s instructions had been complete and absolute. He was to keep the visitors, when they arrived, secured within the confines of the hotel and to contact Drake immediately. The reception areas of the hotel were lit normally, but beyond, the windows were blacked out, and the lighting kept to a dull gloom. By now he did not care for reasons, his mind had eaten away at itself cannibalizing all rational thought. Hour after hour he sat in silence and alone, the rage rose with his breathing. His anger built slowly, brick upon brick, layer upon layer, a wall that sealed him away with nothing but thoughts of vengeance.
