Dead Market

by Gary Starta

  Nowak, the man he had conversed with in thought, had seemed sincere – at first - pleading for rescue from his deranged captor in not merely words, but with emotion.

  Yet now that emotion wavered. Something in the construct of Nowak’s telepathy betrayed complete trust in his pleas. The anger and desperation behind the man’s thoughts came in tentative dribs and drabs in their latest correspondence. Sanchez now feared this man’s duplicity as well. Was he feeding him disinformation as part of a trap? If so, he must warn his captors.

  He called to Lorelei as she passed his door, towel wrapped turban style around her head.

  “Is your cop friend coming back soon?”

  “Most likely no,” Lorelei answered. “I’m to meet him downstairs within the half hour to leave for Miami.”

  “Please, then you must listen to me.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to listen to you. Besides, I’ve been ordered not to talk to you, for your benefit.”

  “I have important information about your trip. Please…” She sauntered closer to his door, but would not enter.

  “Okay, I think – I feel – the man Nowak feeding me information might be deceiving us. I don’t feel certainty in his tone – his emotion. It’s like he’s having second thoughts; or quite possibly, being coached by his captor.”

  “Can you come to a conclusion? I’ve got to get dressed.”

  “I think you might be heading into a trap. I feel the man behind this all is baiting you, expecting your arrival.”

  “But this is just a feeling? You can’t be certain?” He nodded.

  “I’ll advise my friend. Anything else?” she asked, tugging impatiently at her bathrobe sash.

  “A herd of bulls won’t stop us now anyway.” She closed the door before he could speak again. There was nothing tentative in her action.

  Finch arrived shortly later after concluding his shopping expedition with Burnham.

  “Lorelei, are you ready? Burnham’s itching to go.”

  “I am too,” she said, strolling down the hallway to meet him in the kitchenette.

  “What, can’t wait to leave me behind?”

  She caressed his cheek. “No, you know it’s not like that. It’s just that you’re needed here – to guard Sanchez.”

  “Hmmm… Yes. Only this zombie doesn’t really seem like he needs guarding. I mean he’s helping us – willingly.”

  “But Finch you’re not cut out for secret missions. I mean – look at your hairdo – I think they’d see you coming for a mile off.”

  “Shit. My hair isn’t that blonde now – or is it?” He combed a hand through it.

  “We need to end this, Finch. Now let me get a move on. Oh, by the way” she handed him the holstered 9mm off the kitchen table – “you’re going to need this. I just hope it works as well for you as it did for me.”

  The barb stung Finch. Especially now after they had coupled and he couldn’t be certain if he would ever see her again.

  His eyes blinked rapidly. “I didn’t – I „m sorry about – that. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time.”

  He studied her eyes as she offered no verbal retort. They were twinkly yet icy. He couldn’t be sure if she were forgiving him or despising him.

  “Anyway, promise me you’ll…”

  She cut him off. “Save the clichés, Finch. I’ll be careful as I can – under the circumstances.”

  “No. Not just that. Promise me you’ll do – the right thing.” She kissed his cheek before heading out the door.

  ***

  Burnham and Lorelei rode in silence in Finch’s nondescript sedan. It was the one thing that comforted Burnham. At least we won’t stand out.

  Yet his heart hammered as they reached their rendezvous point to pick up Amado James.

  What a crazy freaking battle plan - trusting the enemy of your enemy to be your friend. Burnham concluded these alliances only worked in the movies.

  But Burnham had imposed conditions upon James, to assure his peaceful cooperation.

  He wouldn’t be allowed to carry a gun. The weapon Burnham requested him to bring – a handgun with silencer – was to be given to Lorelei to stand watch over him during the car trip. He also wouldn’t be given the location of their destination or the whereabouts of Sanchez. Both were trump cards Burnham hoped to hold over the crime lord’s dirty little head until they freed their hostage and learned whatever information they might gather from the mad scientist Nowak identified as Karl Brinkhaus.

  James hopped into the car’s passenger seat, brazen and cocky despite the “conditions” of his participation. His eyes soon found one of the objects of his desire – seated in the back.

  “Here’s the gun – baby.”

  Lorelei winced as she took it. “I’ll be watching you.” She eyed the gun then him. The gun rested on her lap.

  “Dangerous but delightful place to be,” James commented, staring straight ahead.

  Burnham cocked his head towards the passenger. “We’ll ride in silence, thank you.”

  James surprised his cohorts by behaving - until they made a pit stop.

  “I’m going to get some gas,” Burnham explained. “Maybe use the facilities. I think there’s a snack shop. You guys need anything?”

  “I’m…good,” James answered. He eyed Lorelei as he over accentuated the adjective.

  “Keep it that way,” Burnham said to him. He slammed the door.

  “So…” James began after Burnham faded from view, “I wonder if there’s a proper icebreaker to use when someone is pointing a gun at you. You know, you don’t need to keep the piece on me all the time. We’re only talking…”

  Lorelei snapped. “You’re only talking. I’m enduring your ugly voice. You treacherous bastard…why the fuck did you do this to me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You knew about my child.”

  “You know life is too short not to tell someone how you feel about them…”

  “And life is too short not to tell someone what an A-hole they’ve been either.”

  “I did this so we could be together. As one, cut from the same cloth if you fancy. I didn’t expect you to escape – with my stash of pills.”

  “So what about you’re fucking pills? They’re not really helping us. They’re hindering us. Burnham is on a low dose. It’s affecting his…” She cut off realizing she had offered too much information.

  James smiled back with a crocodile’s grin.

  “Well, well. They haven’t affected me. I still have my ability to split into two – oh, that’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot to explain that to you. That’s why that rock you threw went straight through me. I’m not always tangible in my second skin.”

  “We might need that in Miami. You can do that at will?”

  “Baby, there are a lot of things I can do – at will.”

  “Shut up, pig.”

  “Funny, that’s a term they use for people like your boyfriend. He’s a cop, isn’t he? I smell it all over him. Even reanimated, it’s at his fucking core.”

  “At least it’s honorable. You – you’re just a piece of shit.”

  “I’m just like him now. But you’re right there is a difference. Despite my change, I still have my power, my wealth. Can he say that? What is he going to do for you once we whack our scientist? You should reconsider your future. You could live well with me.”

  “You talk pretty smooth for a criminal. I’ll give you that. But let’s get something straight. We’re not going to whack the scientist. We need to find out who else he’s working with. Someone gave the disease to the congressman. We need to think about stopping all the players in this game.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not afraid of this little bitch. He’s a scientist. Probably never got his hands dirty…” James rubbed his palms together. “He�
��s probably never got down to business so to speak.”

  “Your hands aren’t dirty, James. Your conscience should be.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning you order your kills. Have people like Sanchez do your deeds.”

  “That’s partly true. But not Sanchez, he’s strictly a dealer.”

  Lorelei inhaled deeply.

  “Is that little fact comforting, baby? Maybe whoever you got guarding him stands half a chance.”

  “Just shut…”

  Burnham approached the car. Lorelei shook her head. “Silence, remember?”

  ***

  Night had set in as they approached South Miami. Their destination: an ugly three story building which overlooked Biscayne Boulevard. Sandwiched between a salvage yard and an abandoned ball field, the white edifice supposedly housed the wizard of their transformation. Burnham imagined the structure to be castle like, magnificent and sparkly, an alchemist’s palace. But the cop portion of Burnham’s brain knew better. The fact it reminded him of squalor seemed more appropriate. The scientist was no more a magician than any other criminal. Possibly smarter, but no less vile and that conclusion scared him. A wizard might be reasoned with. A criminal would stand his ground in defiance. He realized he was kidding himself about negotiations. But he had to try and learn who was assisting this demon. Find out who was willing to give up innocent civilians to such a warped cause. And by the way, it would be nice to find a reason for all this. Ultimately, he didn’t want to encourage Amado James to go ballistic because if he did they were all in danger. Maybe this latter reason was the motivation to enter without guns blazing because why would this criminal willingly explain his misdeeds? He probably had some sort of connections with organized crime to acquire this building, had to be in bed with other unsavory characters. And if so, how many spiders were out there silently spinning a web of mass destruction? Still, Burnham allowed a small part of his genetically altered state to believe a wizard shared space with a criminal in the dangerous mind of Karl Brinkhaus.

  Like the burnt orange sky covered in darkness, the scientist named Brinkhaus operated just beneath public radar. But what were the criminal’s true intentions? Was it just to infect the populace with a zombie like plague to bring about Armageddon? Or was it to advance humanity, as Finch argued. If the man was indeed motivated to reengineer humanity, there might be a glint of hope to reach him. He just had to hope the vicious natures of his companions would not compromise that chance.

  “I’ll go first,” Burnham said. It would be their best chance to keep the scientist alive and talking. The zombie cop was referring to entry. First, they would have to determine just where that entry would take place. And if anybody opposed him – they didn’t – Burnham would have argued it made logical sense to send him on a scouting trip. He simply had the best ears for the job.

  They had walked two blocks to reach the building, fearing a parked vehicle would draw attention. They traversed the parking lot of the property as stealthily as possible but Lorelei’s choice of footwear made complete silence impossible.

  Despite their intrusion, no alarm sounded, no overhead light activated. The lot remained dark, quiet and most of all – suspicious.

  “This is too easy,” James whispered.

  “James,” Lorelei said, “now might be a good time to use your gift.”

  After expending a minute in explanation, Burnham concurred.

  James twitched, gyrated and by the time another copy of himself had projected itself in front of the main entrance, the crime lord was wobbly, staggering and nearly in danger of falling upon his knees.

  Burnham held James up as he watched a twin take form.

  “Okay, so we’ll know if they’ve got cams on the door. More important, we’ll know if he’s got a trip wire.” Burnham explained to a puzzled Lorelei that a weapon might launch via motion detector. Lorelei disagreed. “Sounds too much like James Bond. The man’s an egghead not a soldier.”

  Burnham shook his head and added, “Don’t forget the most destruction weapon in this world was created by a scientist.

  The version of James – the one in Burnham’s arms - fell into an unfocused trance, much like a victim of a seizure, disengaged and disinterested. His doppelganger tentatively strolled in front of the doors. After a few seconds, the projection behaved just as arrogantly as the original, parading back and forth in front of the doors like a duck in shooting gallery, occasionally flipping the finger in defiance.

  “That’s enough,” Burnham whisper screamed.

  Lorelei smiled. “You’ve been learning.” Burnham’s brows furrowed.

  “You’re talking like me,” she explained.

  James came back into focus, his mirror image fading in response.

  “Can you continue?” Burnham asked.

  “I’m already better. Damn straight I can.”

  Lorelei pursed her lips.

  Chapter 30

  Burnham pounced 25 feet into the air from a standing position but it took three tries for him to find purchase on the ledge of a second story window.

  Meanwhile, James cursed the choice of entry from below. “The front doors aren’t armed – maybe not even alarmed. Why can’t we just walk in?” Lorelei shushed him. “It’s the element of surprise. Damn, you should know that. You’re a criminal. Besides he can jump like a puma. Why not use it?”

  Burnham made his way inside thanks in part to a partially opened window. You’ve got to love the Miami heat – Burnham mused.

  He then set about the task of removing the contents of his backpack: mountain climbing rope, a harness, rappelling hook and a hammer to secure bolts in place.

  In a few minutes, he signaled Lorelei. Her athletic build made her a natural climber. She shimmied up in less than a minute.

  “I’ll go ahead,” Burnham advised. “Assist James, nicely.”

  She lowered the rope and harness. James shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Lorelei whisper screamed, “Chicken shit.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He wiped sweaty hands on his pants before fitting himself into the harness.

  “That’s good, keep coming to me,” she said.

  James paused to catch his breath. “Too many smokes,” he grumbled.

  Lorelei paid no heed, urging him to continue.

  By the time James was close enough to lock eyes with her he realized something was horribly wrong.

  She began laughing. First, he believed it was his incompetence to climb.

  But he had made it almost three quarters to his destination. His final destination…

  Lorelei continued grinning, removing the gun from her pocket.

  She wasted no time with final goodbyes. The bullet travelled in welcome silence, wending its way through the top of James’s head as if it were margarine. And to Lorelei’s optically gifted eyes, she enjoyed a front row seat to her own personal greatest-show-on-earth. His brain matter, skull bone and skin tissue coalesced in a slow-motion dance, like tiny flies buzzing around a campfire, before the remains of his skull ultimately adhered to the laws of gravity, dripping down like red rain upon black asphalt below.

  “You’ll fuck up no more lives and no more plans, you bastard,” she whisper screamed in wry satisfaction. And as she set off down a hallway, she murmured, “I made a promise to do the right thing – and I keep my promises.”

  Burnham, satisfied the mad scientist had not set up camp on the second floor, eased the doorway to the third level open. Just two sets of stairway separated him from his perp.

  He wondered what was taking James and Lorelei. Their delay would allow him time to barter with his enemy - without their warmonger reflexes. He continued up the stairs.

  The door to a large room wasn’t even locked. He could peer into the room through a small, rectangular pane of glass on the door.

  T
hey’re planning the biggest attack on America and don’t even expect company?

  The arrogance burned in the pit of his stomach. Above the law, above judgment the king lounges on his throne. Burnham couldn’t even recall how such an analogy entered his brain. Maybe a children’s book he had read. If so, his power to recall memories was possibly enhanced.

  His eased the door open to a room bathed in shadows with sparse strobes of yellow illumination emanating from above.

  He wondered if he should descend the stairs, find Lorelei and James. But he had already discovered an unguarded entrance. Maybe Brinkhaus was engaged with something in another room or even possibly asleep. If so, he would waste valuable time turning back. He opted to find Nowak without further hesitation.

  A cage like the one used in zoos to house guerillas awaited Burnham in the center of the sprawling room. Computers surrounded the iron housing in a ring reminding Burnham of a pentagram.

  The entrance to the cage was impeded by a removable bar which rested on two latches. Again, this is so easy… Why Brinkhaus didn’t utilize at least one of the computer screens to monitor the building’s hallways was beyond him. All Burnham had to do was remove the bar from its resting points and voila, the man fitting Nowak’s description would be freed – quite possibly without Bronchus’s knowledge.

  The man lay slumped in a pile as if he were rubbish. Burnham thought better of waking the man, believing entrance to the cage to be paramount.

  Burnham peered down at the man upon entering, the cage’s bar resting in his right hand. Yes, it appears to be Nowak from Sanchez’s description. Medium length copper colored hair…