Shuggie held Stefan’s arms, immobilising him and nodded to Xavier. Xavier walked over casually, and took a thin steel chain from his neck wrapping it around a now panicking Stefan’s neck. Shuggie knew it wasn’t enough to paralyse him, but it would give them enough time to haul Stefan over to the torture table, using his own steel shackles on him.
“Guess you and me gonna have that little chat after all Stefan...and the first thing you’re gonna do is tell me what the fuck your employer wanted you and your bitches for?” Xavier spat the words in Stefan’s face as Shuggie started gathering up the bodies of the now very dead undead. While Shuggie dragged the cadavers outside, he could hear Xavier say “playing hard to get? I can work with that” then laugh. He watched as Xavier walked out of the tent, and disappeared into the woodland, reappearing some minutes later with a kitbag over his shoulder. Shuggie followed Xavier back into the tent and helped him unpack his bag of tricks. Stefan was still shouting and cursing at them.
“What is he wittering on aboot?” Shuggie said, jutting his chin in the direction of Stefan.
“Our eternal doom’ or some shit. To be honest Shug, I stopped listening ten minutes ago.” Both of them exchanged a knowing look as they took various tools into their hands and walked back over to Stefan. Before Xavier got to work, he turned to Shuggie.
“I need to explain something to you, Shug. This asshole here,” he indicated Stefan, “was as I told you the one who captured me and my men and tortured us. What I didn’t tell you was that I’m going to use this opportunity to settle a debt — and my payback is gonna be a bitch, yeah.” Xavier was weighing up a sledgehammer in his hands as he spoke, but his face and voice had taken on a darker edge.
“See, torture of prisoners for information I get, it’s all part of the game, yeah. But this sick bastard crossed a line. When me and my unit had been captured by Stefan and his dogs, we were held and interrogated for days. After constant questioning, beatings and torture, I was still saying nothing — and because I refused to fucking talk, Stefan decided it would be ‘fun’ to slice me open, take out my kidney and make me fucking eat it in exchange for saving the life of one of my men. So this is both business and personal to me. Understand?”
Xavier lifted his vest and turned to show Shuggie the scar on his side — jagged and deep — where Stefan had cut him open. He looked over and seen the flicker of recognition and acceptance in Shuggie’s eyes, and the fear and loathing in Stefan’s.
As Xavier took a sledgehammer to Stefan’s limbs, Shuggie got to work with pliers, and pulled the finger and toenails off. “Who would have known the baddest vampire war-mongerer screamed like a bitch? Well we all do now, yeah?” Xavier smirked over at Shuggie, and told him to stand clear. He took out a small bottle and started pouring it onto the raw nail beds seeing the flesh sizzle and shrivel up. “Two parts petrol, one part liquid mercury and a dash of steel mixed for good measure. I call it nosferatu neutraliser or bitch be gone, both work for me.”
Shuggie was sickened by what Xavier had told him, but wasn’t surprised. The lower ‘made’ vampires were fundamentally sadistic and egotistical, and he had heard similar stories through the years. He had his own reasons for hating this breed of vampire, but this was Xavier’s gig and he would support him one hundred percent. “Remind me ne’er tae get oan yer bad side, ya mad bastard!” Shuggie laughed, before re-joining Xavier at the top of the table. He passed Xavier a rusty corkscrew and folded his arms watching the expert at work.
Xavier leaned over Stefan’s face. “You haven’t told me how I get a hold of your bastard employer, Stefan. You need to work on your communication skills. So being the friendly guy I am, I’m prepared to help you. You sing like a canary? I’ll stop corkscrewing your eyes out.”
Xavier smiled as he put the point of the corkscrew to Stefan’s pupil and pushed down, turning the rusty iron slowly. The burst of optical fluids squelched as it tore through his eye.
Shuggie knew that Xavier was in the zone, because he had started creasing up laughing when Stefan contorted on the table trying to fight back — but it was apparent there was already an air of defeat about Stefan. As Xavier pulled the eye out of the socket with a ‘pop’ and threw it onto Stefan’s chest, they both watched as it rolled down and fell onto his restrained hand. Stefan’s tongue started to loosen a little, and he gave random details about the rogue spy and his operations, but it was nothing of any real importance, nothing of any great significance.
Xavier told Shuggie to set up the IV kit that he’d brought in his kit bag. Doing as he was asked, Shuggie tapped the IV and put into both of Stefan’s arms, connecting the bags he’d set on the floor, watching as the bags started filling up with Stefan’s lifeblood. He knew that vampires could resist most forms of physical torture, but what really frightened them was being dragged out in the sunlight, being burned in a fire or being drained of their lifeblood. As he was needing to get information out of him, the slower draining option was best.
“Looks like you’re drying up there Stefan — where’s your fucking boss now? You seriously think he gave a shit about you and your boys? You’re more stupid than I thought asshole.” Xavier fixed a vice to Stefan’s head, cleaning the saw on the side of his combats. He gave a grin to Shuggie before looking back down at the one eyed, gawping mouthed Stefan. “Shit, nearly forgot, can’t leave empty handed, can I?” Grabbing a chisel, Xavier put the steel to Stefan’s gum line and thumped the chisel hard, removing his fangs and pocketing them like trophies.
As Stefan gargled, the IV had almost fully drained him of his blood. Xavier took a saw to his neck, the blunt teeth of the tool taking time to work through his skin, muscle and bones until his head was savagely removed from his now lifeless drained body.
Shuggie took a video of the camp, before gathering all the documents and files that were of any relevance, and then unscrewed a can of gasoline that Xavier had brought with them. He splashed it over all the bodies, equipment and periphery, then stood beside Xavier.
Neither men spoke to the other, but when Shuggie was finished emptying the gasoline, Xavier took a cigarette out of his top pocket and put it in the corner of his mouth. He flicked the top of his lighter three times, then took one long draw and flicked the cigarette onto the gasoline watching the place light up like the fourth of July.
“Well what do you know, smoking is dangerous for you!” Xavier turned to look at Shuggie and both of them started to laugh as they watched the inferno.
Shuggie started heading back towards the truck, shouting over his shoulder to Xavier, “Fuck this shite Xavier, we should’ve stood doonwind — the stink o’ fried arseholes is making me gag.”
The Intel they had retrieved from Stefan and the laptops and files that were in the camp were enough to track down and bring the rogue in, but neither Shuggie nor Xavier were privy to what happened to him after that. Their superior officers operated on a need to know basis, and although both of them had put their life on the line for this mission, they weren’t permitted to ask any questions.
Over two decades and numerous missions later, Xavier had grown into the fiercest and most loyal Commander that Shuggie had ever known, and the two were more like brothers than best friends. At forty seven, Xavier was still as sharp as when he’d met him. Shuggie still looked like a male of thirty eight years of age. Neither Xavier nor Shuggie had ever mentioned the conversation they had that day until many, many years later.
Xavier was by then Commander of his own special unit of soldiers, working independently for whichever Government or official of his choosing. Shuggie was his Lieutenant and, apart from one major incident, where he had been imprisoned and tortured, the two had worked side by side every day since Prague.
Xavier not only saved Shuggie’s ass when he got taken, but he freed another body — one who would prove to be an asset to his Unit — the genius Doctor/Research Scientist Teodora Valdez. She quickly integrated herself into his small private army, and had been a loyal member ever since.
The Doc became the only other living soul to know Xavier’s secret, as he had her test his blood. It had always bothered him on a suppressed level that he was unable to shift. He used to entertain the notion that maybe his father wasn’t really his, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. So, trusting the Doc with his burden, she took sample DNA and ran some tests. The results were not exactly what Xavier had been expecting.
Taking the results from the Doc, Xavier had sought out Shuggie. Handing over the report, he sat in silence as Shuggie read and then re-read it. After what seemed like hours but could only have been a handful of minutes, Shuggie put the report down and looked at Xavier.
“LWS? That’s what the Doc has diagnosed ye with? Ah huv tae be honest Commander, but ah’ve ne’er heard o’ such a thing afore.” Shuggie couldn’t read Xavier’s expression. He had built a brick wall around him that even grenades or bulldozers couldn’t break once he got into that mind-set.
Xavier scratched his chin, gave a dismissive shrug then cleared his throat. “That’s what she said. You read it for yourself, yeah? The Doc says I have LWS and I may be either the first or only case to have it. Of course, she couldn’t be conclusive as she only has my DNA to go on, but still.”
“So does this Lazy Wolf Syndrome huv any side-effects.” To be honest, Shuggie was by now seeing the humour in the way Teodora had labelled Xavier, but he was just and only just keeping his tone and face serious.
Xavier shifted uneasily in his seat. “Apart from not being able to shift, or become immortal? Everything else seems to be normal. The indicators and markers are there which mean that I should be able to let my wolf rise, but for some fucked up reason I have to have the one wolf that is too damn lazy to bother it’s ass to manifest itself. As the old bastard said — I’m a runt of the litter.” Those last words were said with venom. Some things just hurt to the very bone marrow.
Shuggie recognised the pain in Xavier’s eyes, but did nothing to contradict his words. It would only build Xavier’s defences up even more, and most likely end up in a punch up between the two of them. Instead he opted to steer the conversation away from thoughts of his sad excuse for a father. “Look at it this way, aye? Jist as well ye cannae shift tae wolf.”
Xavier arched a brow. “And how the fuck do you figure that one out?”
“Well,” Shuggie replied, wryly, “If ye did we couldnae work the gather.” At Xavier’s perplexed expression he went on to explain. “Vampires and werewolves are deadly enemies, Xavier - if ye could shift tae werewolf an took a bite oota me? Ah’d be toast. The ‘were’ saliva is lethal tae ma kind.”
It was only then that Xavier started to grin, letting his tensed up body relax a fraction. “Shit, and you see that as a negative? It’d come in handy any time you beat my ass at poker, you cheating bastard!” Xavier’s laugh bellowed as the two men got up and reached for the bottle of Scotch at the same time. Old habits never change.
Mexico, Present day
Bringing himself back to the present, after his trip down Memory Lane, Shuggie accepted that he and Xavier had an unbreakable bond. That bond was partly the reason why, once the Commander had confessed his attraction to the woman who tried to run him off the road, he was determined to track her down and see her for himself.
Another reason was simply that the ancient warrior was a nosey bastard.
Shuggie decided he wanted to see this woman for himself, and flashed to the address he had tracked down online for Friera and stood in the shadows, watching the house for signs of life.
Chapter Ten
The thief resumed the stake-out on the Pascal mansion.
Decoding Martinez’ laptop yesterday had been child's play. He had used his first born’s name as his password — almost the dumbest thing known to man! Still, it made the thief’s work easier. From Martinez’ emails, the thief had been able to hack into the systems, getting a full list of high ranking personnel close to Belcastro. Sitting high up concealed in the tree of the Pascal mansion, the thief knew that there was only two more nights until Belcastro was reached.
By the time this heist was over, the message will have been delivered loud and clear… Belcastro had someone to fear! The stealing was only the beginning — it was a warning to let him know he was marked and his security systems could be compromised.
Tonight was to teach Belcastro that he and his associates were being personally targeted. Of course the weapons and jewels kept in the vaults of this family home were an added bonus.
This Mafia empire was crumbling and it was very entertaining to watch unfold.
****
Xavier’s sleep was troubled.
It was only when he was unconscious that all the horrors of his life came back to haunt him, which was why he fought sleep so stubbornly. Tonight though, he was troubled not for visions of death, mutilation, screams of pain, or pleas for mercy. No, tonight he was troubled with the image of a brunette taunting him with candy and twisting his words back at him. The more he tried to reason with the female, the more she had him in knots. Every time he tried to walk away from her, he found himself chasing after her. This dream sucked, and not in a good way.
Friera - all fire, feist, indignation, confidence, stubbornness, wit. Friera, the kamikaze driver who demanded politeness and manners after nearly killing him! Friera, with the swaying hips, pouting lush mouth and big almond shaped eyes that bore into the very heart of him.
He awoke, hearing a shout ringing in his ears. It took him a few seconds to realise that he was alone and the shouting he had heard was from himself. Xavier stared into the darkness as it dawned on him that he had been shouting Friera’s name.
Who the hell was she? And why did she have such an effect on him?
Unable to get back to sleep Xavier decided to shower, shave, and shove his fatigues back on. He might as well work as sit being plagued with visions of a female he knew he couldn’t have, a female he shouldn’t want.
****
The walk home was a pleasant one, a small breeze in the air, enough to make Alicia’s hair sway softly. Walking and viewing mansions fascinated her. To most normal people she was probably a geek, but to Alicia...she was intrigued at the architecture and how houses were designed and made. She loved to read books and literature — information was good and made for a healthy brain.
A small laugh escaped her lips as she heard her stomach grumble.
“Gods I’m a lady - not!”
She hadn’t been eating well on this vacation, but then Mexico was hotter than she was used to and she reasoned that the heat effects even the biggest of appetites. Alicia thought to herself that ‘sustenance is needed for health’ and the last thing she needed was to become ill on the final days of her dream vacation, so she made her way to the hotel kitchens to enquire if the chef would possibly make her a meal. It was past normal dining times, but maybe a batting of the eyelashes would work — or she would just help herself.
Chapter Eleven
The Belcastro family mansion was enormous, almost three times as big as the one that Martinez stayed in. It was off the beaten track and surrounded by a ten foot high perimeter fence, electrified iron gates and CCTV every few feet. Guards were armed and posted within the perimeter with radio contact to a main surveillance room which was probably located in the basement of the mansion, Xavier guessed.
Since the Martinez place got turned over, security had been tightened around the Belcastro mansion. With that said, it took Xavier less than half an hour to break in, evade all the guards and cameras and enter into the Mansion alone.
Pulling a beer out of the fridge, he elbowed the small rectangle of glass on the wall and took a drink as the siren sounded. Guards came pouring out of every doorway down the hall.
“So good of you to fucking join me.” Grinning as red dots flitted over his body, all guns trained on him. “Could someone turn off that racket? Can’t hear myself think here.” Finishing his beer, he threw it in the trash. “The name’s Commander Ra
ige, and you fuckers have just been caught with your pants down.”
****
The thief checked the time and jumped down from the tree in the Pascal mansion grounds. The layout had been memorised and there were only servants and a few low ranking soldiers left on duty around the property. Appearing from the dense woodland that sat off to the side of the land, the thief was dressed head to toe in black. Dodging the sprinkler systems that were watering the lawns from the day’s heat, the thief walked to the side entrance door that led to the kitchen.
The noise of a twig snapping gave the thief all the warning needed, and so turned around to be met with the barrel of a gun.
‘Morons,’ the thief thought before easily disarming the guard of his gun.
The glint of the thief’s blade was all that the burly guard saw. In fact it was the last thing he saw as it was stabbed into his thigh, the femoral artery being penetrated as the intruder’s blade was twisted for good measure. The guard fell into a heap on the tiled kitchen floor. He would bleed out in no time, but this had not been on the agenda for tonight!
The dark figure was more careful now, manoeuvring through the upper floors of the property. The main safe in the mansion was situated in a cupboard in one of the bathrooms. With a shake of the head, the black gloved hand spun the dial of the combination lock. It didn’t go unnoticed that it took four attempts to get into it. Things were definitely getting harder, but it did challenge the mind…if you had patience for this shit!
Eventually the combination was unlocked and the loot bag was filled with the weapons and four flash drives that had been concealed inside the safe — those would make interesting bedtime reading the intruder mused. Closing the safe and locking it, the thief left the mansion and headed back home.
The Heist Page 4
