“Oh man,” he said, slipping into the back next to Selena. “After Selena told me about your crazy great granddaddy Wagner being Dr. Twist, I put two and two together and had her give you a ring, you dig?”
I looked over my shoulder, glaring at Chad. “I dig, buddy. I dig all right. How’d you hear about Dr. Twist being in town? You ‘digging’ the drugs he produces? You gone junkie as well as beatnik, buddy-boy?” I didn’t really like Chad. I didn’t try to hide it.
“I told you, man – I don’t do any of that stuff, especially not Dr. Twist’s Panacea.” Chad shook his head. “Are you gonna keep running me down this whole time? I’d rather you didn’t, because I don’t like the idea of some gorilla in a trench coat thinking he can—”
“Chad?” Weatherby asked suddenly. “How did you encounter him? Did he see you? Did he see Selena?” The poor kid really beat himself up about Wagner Stein. He blamed himself for raising the Viscount from the grave. And Wagner and him sharing blood, only worse.
Chad spoke calmly and seriously. He liked Weatherby. “Don’t worry, little man. He doesn’t know us. I heard he was in town from a friend of mine, so Selena and I headed to a poetry reading where he showed up. The two of us fit right in with the crowd. He did look at Selena, but I think that’s just because she’s so unbelievably beautiful.” He smiled at Selena. “So I did some more asking around.”
“And what were your answers?” I started the Roadmaster. I had a feeling we’d need to motor somewhere soon. Selena and Chad were staying at a decent hotel in the middle of Frisco, with the bridge and the bay in the distance. Fog drifted in from the ocean, sliding over the city like a set of gossamer curtains. It looked like rain. That was the least of my worries.
“Well, Dr. Twist – that’s the name Wagner Stein is going by – is making some big time deals with local gangsters. Apparently, he had meetings with nearly every big time hood in Frisco, making them an offer for some kind of deal. According to the papers, a lot of international organized crime bigwigs are in town, so he’s cozying up to them.”
Selena reached forward, putting her hand on Weatherby’s shoulder. “I think you’ve met some of them before, dear – like Don Vito Vizzini of the Mafia and Boss Yamoto of the Yakuza.” Her voice and face were pained. “They’re dangerous men, Weatherby. I don’t really like you dealing with them.”
“Rules of the game we play, sister,” I told Selena. “And we ain’t lost yet.” I turned back to Chad. “So, any word on what the deal is?”
“Nope. But just this morning, I heard word from a friend of mine who works at a downtown bar where a lot of wiseguys drink. Apparently, there’s a meeting going on at Fisherman’s Wharf, below one of the abandoned docks, while the tide’s still out. Don Vizzini will be there. And so will Wagner. The meeting’s set to take place in about an hour.”
I gunned the engine. We had plenty of time. “We’ll go there and scope it out,” I said. I looked back at Selena. I was taking the two men she loved most in the world – her boyfriend and her baby brother – and putting them right into the lion’s mouth – with only my word that it wouldn’t bite. “Don’t worry,” I told her. “This is just a little recon, some snooping around. It won’t be more than that if I can help it.”
She nodded. “I trust you, Morton,” she said. “You’ve taken good care of Weatherby. I’ll trust you for this.”
I was glad Selena approved of me. It was sappy and stupid, a dumb mug like me caring what the big sister of his partner thought of him, but I liked her I was glad she liked me. It wasn’t that I wanted Selena as my dame or anything. She was a nice girl, but she wasn’t exactly my type.
I realized what it was as I gunned the engine and sped the auto through the bumpy streets down to the docks. Weatherby was the closest thing to a little brother that I’d ever had, and that meant Selena was the closest thing to a sister. I wanted her trust and approval. She gave them to me. Now I had to make sure that she wasn’t making a mistake.
We reached Fisherman’s Wharf a couple minutes before the mob meeting. I parked the Roadmaster on the curb and stepped out. Normally, the whole waterfront would be crawling with tourists, but today the weather was bad and there were only a few, stopping by the shops and walking along the saggy piers. Weatherby, Selena, Chad and I found a cement stairwell leading to the rocky beach. We kept low, hugging the forest of rotting wooden pillars that held up the docks, and soon spotted the meeting.
About two dozen guys were arranged in a loose circle, below one of the far wharves. They didn’t have any sentries. I guessed they hoped to complete the meeting quickly. I started creeping along the sand, motioning silently for Chad, Selena and Weatherby to follow me. We took cover behind a large piece of ocean-wracked rock, a place where seals would sun themselves and seagulls crapped. I had brought my tommy gun along, slinging it over my shoulder. I’ve found it pays to come prepared. We crouched down and watched and listened.
We got close enough to see what was going on. Don Vizzini was there, wearing a dark robe and square sunglasses over his bandaged face. He surrounded himself with an army of mobsters. He was nervous about meeting Wagner Stein. The Don was a smart guy. Vizzini stood uncomfortably in the dark and soggy sand, his arms folded. He was watching Wagner.
Wagner Stein wore a purple three-piece suit and a fedora with a peacock feather in the brim. A cane tipped with a silver skull rested between his fingers. I could see Viscount Wagner’s face split in the smile, the thin moustache peeling back to reveal his white teeth. He was flanked by four of his goons, all in matching purple suits and fedoras. It didn’t take long to realize that they weren’t human. Their faces were missing skin and flesh. They were nothing more than grinning skulls.
“Good Gravy!” Chad whispered. I glared at him and he shut up. I crouched low and listened in. Their voices drifted back to me, echoing over the slow roll and crash of the waves.
Don Vizzini started speaking. “Dr. Twist, I believe I have the object of your search. As our agreement stated, he will be handed over to you – for the price you previously mentioned.”
“Yes…” Wagner said. “Bring him here. Let me see him.” His familiar nasal voice was like liquid fire, slipping into my ears and burning my brain. The bastard was so damn smug. I wanted to lean on the trigger of that tommy gun and send him screaming back into Hell.
The mobsters started pushing something large across the dark sand. I couldn’t see what it was. I heard Wagner suck in his breath. “Oh, he is beautiful!” He nodded, and one of his skeletal henchmen handed Vizzini an attaché case. “Your payment, Vizzini. You have done well.”
“You possess a great deal of money, Dr. Twist,” Vizzini muttered. “And yet you have only lately arrived in the American Underworld.”
“It’s a small matter to gain a fortune here, Vizzini.” Wagner wasn’t paying much attention. He was looking over whatever he had bought – at a great cost – from Don Vizzini. “You simply find a product everyone desires and sell it. And it seems that everyone desires drugs. No, where I came from, true power was much harder to gain – with a much dearer price.” His voice got lower, speaking softly, like a lover. “But you, my dear, you shall give me unimaginable dominion over all things.”
Some of the mobsters stepped aside. I got a look at what Wagner was fawning over. It was something that belonged in a nightmare, and I could see why Wagner liked it. At first glance, Wagner’s purchase was a big guy, chained up to a chair. He was bigger than me, bigger than anyone I had seen before. I had a feeling he could wrestle a rhinoceros and come out on top.
Everything else about him looked straight out of a circus sideshow. His face was a patchwork mess, with more stitches and scars than I could count. One eye was bigger than the other – and green while the other was blue. The big bruiser wore a cherry red zoot suit and matching fedora, which must have been hand-tailored for his great size. Four bands of thick steel chain tied him to the chair, and from the nervous looks of the gangsters, that might not be enough.
<
br /> Selena and Weatherby stifled a gasp when they saw him. “That must be… that must be Adam!” Weatherby whispered. “Johan Stein’s infamous creation!”
“You’re right. That’s exactly who it is,” Selena agreed. “I thought he was just a legend, one of father’s many tall tales about our family. But he’s real. He’s real and Wagner’s about to get his hands on him.”
I turned to Weatherby. “You know this mug, kiddo?”
“I’ve heard of him,” he replied. “Johan Stein was a brilliant scientist, someone who combined the occultism of the natural philosophers with the galvanic sciences of the modern age. During the time after the brutal Seven Years War in Europe, he decided to defeat Death itself, to build a man and give it life.” He pointed to Adam. “And that’s the result. I’m not sure exactly what happened after that. But there was madness and it ended in Johan’s death and the creature’s disappearance. Until now.”
Back under the docks, our targets were chatting again. Don Vizzini looked warily at Adam and Wagner. “My people found him working at a bouncer in a downtown club. He’s crippled and killed more men than I can count.”
“Yes,” Wagner agreed. “He’s perfect.”
Adam’s head rolled back. He started to speak. “What,” he said, looking at Wagner with half-closed eyes. “What do you want?” His voice was a dark rumble, like the roar of a crashing wave or an avalanche tearing down a mountain. He sounded pissed, annoyed and – most of all – impatient.
“Why, I want you, my dear. Just you. The creation of my family. My descendant made you, and now I shall claim you.” With a flourish, Wagner opened his cane and withdrew a gleaming blade from the silver handle. “I’m going to cut you up, Adam, and discover what makes you tick. And then I shall build an army of those like you – invincible, undead brutes to be unleashed on the world! To do my bidding!”
I’d heard all I cared to. I looked to Selena and Weatherby as I stood up. “I can’t let that happen,” I said. “Get ready to run.” Before they could protest, I sent a blast of roaring lead into the gangsters and Wagner’s bodyguards. My bullets kicked up sand, the heavy slugs tearing through the beach. One of the skeletons dropped, his skull blasted into white fragments as he slumped onto the sand. Don Vizzini ducked back, pointed to my position as he ordered for blood.
“Weatherby Stein!” Wagner hissed. “You sniveling runt!”
The mobsters started to take cover and shoot back, but then something else happened. Adam flexed his arms. His muscles looked like they had been made in a factory. They bulged and the chains strained – and snapped. With a feral roar, Adam leapt on his captors. One he grabbed one gunman’s arm and broke it. He hauled another gunsel into the air, and tossed the poor bastard into one of the dock’s supporting pillars. His head cracked like an eggshell. A third guy made the mistake of pointing his pistol in Adam’s way. He got a punch on the chin that made his jaw swing wide off of his face, like it was on hinges.
“Adam!” I shouted, waving in the air as I gave the Thompson a rest. “Over here!”
He started bounding up the beach, running to our position. Bullets streamed after him. One blasted through his chest. It might as well have been a mosquito bite for all the damage it did. I stood up to run, with Weatherby, Selena and Chad doing the same.
Adam ran to the rock and stared down at us. “What do you want?” he asked, sounding mostly bored. “And who are you?”
Weatherby held out his hand. Bullets were flying around, sand was kicking up, and an army of mobsters and skeletons were descending on us – and the kid insisted on being polite. “My name is Weatherby Ignatius Stein. I am the descendant of Johan Stein, your creator. This is Selena, my dear sister, her companion Chad Albright, and my partner, Morton Candle. We want to help you, Adam.” He looked over Adam’s massive shoulder. “Please, come with us, and we’ll see you safely out of the city.”
“You are like Johan. Steins.” Adam’s thick nose twitched. “I don’t like Steins.” Adam could break Weatherby in half. I turned the tommy gun to face him, just in case. But I doubted even a bunch of bullets from the chopper could stop him in time.
But Weatherby kept his hand out. I saw sweat on the kid’s forehead. “P-please, sir,” he said, his voice a nervous whisper. “Our family has been callous and cruel to you, but we are different. Let us help you. At least for now.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“Fine.” Adam turned back to the beach and started to run. We stayed with him, leading him to the car. Selena pulled Weatherby close to her. The kid was shivering like he had been out in the rain. I didn’t blame him. Adam wasn’t easy on the eyes – or anything else for that matter.
We pounded up the beach and onto the dock. The mobsters followed, some stowing their guns while others kept them pointed at us. Tourists screamed and started to run. I spotted the Roadmaster and ran for it, not bothering to return fire. Either we reached it in time or we were dead.
A bullet seared the air next to my ear, crashing into the window my automobile. It made a spider web crack appear on the glass. I opened the car and slid inside. Weatherby followed, Selena, Chad and Adam squeezing into the back. It was a tight fit. I slammed on the gas.
The Roadmaster roared into the street. People were screaming, guns were going off, and sirens wailed in the distance. Bullets busted the rear windshield. They cracked and streaked the sides of the car, gouging a brand new paint job. I kept the speed up and roared away from the docks. Wagner Stein reached the curb just as we pulled away. I heard him shout out his rage, waving his sword-cane through the air as he recited ancient oaths.
It wasn’t until we were a good half a dozen blocks away that I looked back at Adam. He sat between Selena and Chad, nearly crushing them against the sides of the Roadmaster. His thick fingers were folded. “Let me out,” he grunted.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mr. Adam” Weatherby said, looking back at the giant. “Wagner Stein wants to capture and dissect you. Don Vizzini appears to be taking his money. Doubtlessly, every gangster in Vizzini’s substantial organization will be looking for you.”
“Don’t care. Kill them or beat them. They’ll not get me.” Adam snorted. “Let me out.”
Selena reached out a put a slim hand on his massive shoulder. “Please,” she said. “Let us help you. Why don’t we stop somewhere, have something to eat, and discuss the situation, help you come up with a plan.” She lowered her eyes. “It’s really the least we can do.”
“Yes.” Adam leaned back. He didn’t look at Selena or Weatherby. “Fine.”
“All right,” I said. “One diner, coming up. You better get more talkative, big man. I’m getting curious.” I sped down the street. We lost the cops and the wiseguys, and I started looking for somewhere to pull over and grab a quick meal and some coffee.
Adam seemed angry at the whole Stein Family. He was just as angry at everything else, but he was looking at Weatherby and Selena like he wanted to pound them into a pulp, despite their kindness to him. If he just knew Wagner, I wouldn’t blame him for his hatred of the Steins. But Weatherby and Selena had gone through Hell and still had manners and goodness. If Adam was a danger to them, he’d find out that I was just as dangerous as Wagner – and nowhere near as easy to escape from.
I selected a small café across the street from some run-down flophouse. It was the kind of place that catered to teenagers, which sold two straws in each milkshake so young lovers could share. I didn’t like it, but it looked quiet and was mostly empty. I parked the Roadmaster and we headed inside and got a seat at a booth in the back.
The waitress stared at Adam. I didn’t blame her. He took up the whole side of the booth by himself, while Chad, Selena, Weatherby and I crammed into the other. “What’ll it be, handsome?” the waitress asked, her voice a dull drawl.
Adam’s eyes flashed to the menu. He could read. I was impressed. He turned to me and I nodded. I’d pay for his meal. “Four chili cheese burgers, everything on them. Three milks
hakes. Strawberry. Six orders of fries. Two hot dogs.” He lowered his voice. “Please.”
The waitress hurried to scribble it down, and then turned to our side of the table. “And for you?”
“Just coffee,” Selena said politely. “And one chocolate milkshake for Weatherby.”
The waitress dashed off the get the food ready. Chad stared at Adam. “Man alive, you are one big eater.” He shrugged. “I guess you’re a big guy, so that makes sense. What do you live on normally, brother? Cows?”
“Shut up, Chad.” I looked back to our new pal. “All right, Adam. I’m paying for a feast. I want a good story.”
“It is not a good story.” Adam rested his thick hands flat on the linoleum of the table. “In the late 1700s, Johan Stein lost his family to a plague. He desired to defeat death. He ransacked graveyards, finding pieces of soldiers from the Seven Years War, and put them together. He used lightning and magic to give them life.” His growling voice got low. “He created me.”
Weatherby and I exchanged a glance. It was a story straight out a comic book or a B-movie – and it all made horrible sense. “I take it he wasn’t a good parent?” I asked, reaching for a cigarette.
Adam looked up at me, letting me see every miserable contour of his face. “With a child like this, how could he?” he asked. “He took one look and ran. I smashed my way out of the prison and hid in the woods. I lived off of stolen sheep and cattle, taken from the peasants. I learned to speak by watching them teach their children. But they became aware of me, and the men of the village took their pitchforks and torches to destroy me. And I slaughtered them all.”
Selena breathed in sharply. She pulled Weatherby close. His eyes were wide and frightened. “What about Johan?” Weatherby asked. “He just abandoned you?”
The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) Page 13
