Virgil leaned back and crinkled his eyes. The gesture seemed somewhat cynical and did not match the man’s regular demeanor. “At least, tell me this. What are you doing in Pontius?”
“Over a year ago, I got mixed up in this business at home. Me, and a few others, got thrown into the wasteland. A lot of the others were killed by demons. I finally met some people, and I thought I was going to get some help. Instead, Barkus and his men enslaved me. It was… like a nightmare. I managed to escape. I convinced others to escape with me. They were good people, Virgil, but Barkus hunted us down and killed most of them. Barkus is evil. He’s not just a worshipper of devils, but a devil himself. He has completely rejected his humanity. In my opinion, the world could do without him and the organization that made him. As crazy as it sounds, I came here to destroy them.”
Virgil looked him up and down quickly, then said, “And not having the means to do it yourself, you joined the Coil to get a leg up.”
Wodan nodded, said, “Same as you.”
“If you told anyone else what you told me just now, they would say it was nonsense. To your average citizen, the gangs of Pontius are just like the flesh demons - something you live with, something you endure. A force of nature. No, more than that...”
“They’re the foundations of the world itself.”
“Uh.”
“But not to people like us.”
“No. Not to people like us.” A pause, then Virgil’s stoic mask fell away, and he said, “Just where do you come from?”
“From a land that no longer exists,” said Wodan.
“Gods... I feel the same way.” He rubbed his eyes, hard, grinding the knuckles in deep. He rose and got another beer, then lifted his head to Wodan. Wodan nodded and smiled.
“Alright,” said Virgil. “Down to business. I guess you know the Coil managed to get Barkus. You know what’s going to happen to him?”
“They’re not going to kill him,” said Wodan, feeling disappointed even as the words came out.
“No, they’re not. Of course, the Coil are the sworn enemies of the Ugly. But more important than that, the Coil are a business organization. Criminal, sure, but a business all the same. They’re going to lord it over the Ugly for a few days, let them know they’ve been beaten - and then sell him right back to ’em.” Virgil took a sip, then said, “And it’s going to be for a huge chunk of change. Ugly finances are hurt these days, bad, because they don’t have the manpower to bring in slaves like they used to. They’re going to get hurt even worse when they buy back Barkus, but they have to buy back Barkus. They’re an ideological organization, and the significance of one of their most important high priests in the hands of the enemy would be too great a blow to their morale. But, as bad as the loss of money will be to them, they will survive. The Ugly will survive, Wodan. And in a few years... things will return to business as usual.”
“And neither one of us wants that to happen.”
“The way I see it,” said Virgil, leaning over the table slightly, “is that we have a unique chance here, Wodan. The enemy is crippled and if we don’t strike, now, then a hundred future generations are going to damn us with their misery.”
“You’re thinking that we should exacerbate the conflict between the Coil and the Ugly.”
“Yes. If... Wodan, if we could get them to really attack one another, and I mean all-out war, then they could weaken one another to the point where the Law could step in and take advantage of their vulnerabilities. Just imagine it, Wodan: a world without the Ugly and without the Coil. As much as you might dislike the Law, or even the Smiths, you cannot deny that the Ugly and the Coil are, by far, the most wicked gangs in Pontius.”
“Did you know that the Cognati are here?”
“I’d... heard rumors,” said Virgil, lighting another cigarette and handing one to Wodan.
“The Coil are confident that they have a chance of beating the Hands.”
“I’m not sure what to think about the Cognati, myself.”
“Same here. But, Virgil, just how powerful are these Hands?”
“I can tell you about the Hands. They’re the ultimate killers, plain and simple. Raised and trained that way since they were babies. You know how a human is born with potential, right? That a man can learn a lot of things, if he wants... can excel in a field, if he really applies himself...”
“Of course!”
“Well, the Hands can’t. They’ve been streamlined, their minds focused into one art: Death. There’s two of them at any time. One of them, whether he’s armed or unarmed... if half of what I’ve heard is true, then he may be the greatest warrior in the world. Unbelievably fast and powerful. I’ve heard that, at his top speed, he moves faster than the human eye can follow. But the other, he doesn’t even move at all. One minute you’re eating a meal or just minding your own business, and the next minute you no longer exist. A master of poisons, they say, and he can infiltrate any organization at any level that he chooses.”
“So, as long as they’re alive, the Head is safe,” said Wodan. “It doesn’t sound like we could kill them ourselves. In that case, our best bet really is to pit the Coil entirely against the Ugly.”
Virgil nodded quickly and locked eyes with Wodan. “If you’re with me, Wodan, if you’re really serious about the things you’ve said...”
“Then we can’t let the Ugly get Barkus back.”
“Not if we want the world to be a better place,” said Virgil, eyes gleaming a little through wrinkles and worry.
“We might have to make it a worse place before we can make it any better.”
“Which I know you weren’t afraid of when you killed that Captain.”
“Whoever killed that Captain,” Wodan corrected him. “Yeah, that was a man with some balls. But let’s say I did do that, Virgil. How did you know?”
“Mostly gut instinct,” said Virgil. “But it’s based on experience. There were details that led me to believe that the crime wasn’t committed by the Ugly. And no Coil, no true Coil, would ever do something like that. No Coil would bother. Where’s the profit motive? I’m sure the killer made off with some cash and jewels, but it’s been my experience that most Coilmen are cowards. They’re too weak to join the Ugly, too dumb to join the Smiths, and they’re too greedy to join the Law. They want to rake in money, and have an easy time of it on top of that. The thing is, I know you’re not a true Coil. There was too much conviction in what you said when we were at Precinct Zero. I’m convinced it was you, Wodan, and maybe a few others with you, who killed that Captain.”
Virgil paused for a moment, then added, “The thing is, when that Captain got killed, the Coil got worried. Soldiers die all the time, even Lieutenants. Not Captains. Those are the real businessmen, the old boys who run the machine itself. That got them moving. This whole Barkus thing will probably overshadow that.”
“But not if more Captains die.”
“That’s right. But it has to be a lot more. The Ugly are going to stir up trouble over this Barkus thing, but they’re not going to know who the Captains are and where they live.”
“Okay. So I’ll use my connections to find the Captains...”
“And I’ll use my connections to sniff out their situation. Number of guards on hand, what kind of firepower they’ve got... surveillance, you know.”
“This is kind of crazy, Virgil. I’m not even sure if my crew will trust you at all. And I’m not going to lie to them about who you are - if we show up with black masks and shotguns and get arrested immediately, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.” As Virgil started to reply, Wodan cut him off. “And we don’t even know a lot about what we’re doing. I’m the oldest of us all. We can’t just expect to run in blasting and come out roses every time, that’s just stupid.”
“Stupid? How so?”
“Well, it’s - wait, what do you mean?”
“It’s the same way I’d do it. You think a team of thirty-year-old veteran Lawmen would do it any different? Hell no, man. You j
ust kick in the door and start blastin’.”
“No kidding?”
“Not at all. The only difference is you’re going to have some better intel on what’s going on. With that first Captain, I guess as a secretary you had access to a little information-”
“If it was me.”
“- but the Law has a vast storehouse of suspected Captains and logs of thousands of hours of surveillance work.”
“Then why doesn’t the Law just take these guys out?”
“Not enough solid evidence to pin anything on them. And, keep in mind, most of these guys pay lots of money to crooked judges and dirty cops just to keep them away. It’s just like you said, ‘When the Law is unjust, you have to make your own justice.’ ”
“I said that?”
“Either you or the guy who wasted that Captain. But I get the two confused.”
Chapter Fifteen
Seven Skulls of the Serpent
The figures in black stood over a dead man. His silk pajamas were twisted around his torso and blood pumped onto the exquisitely detailed rug. The largest figure tucked his revolver away into a holster, then said, “Check that lockbox over there, if you want.”
Pete pulled off his mask and said, “You think this is enough to make us trust you?”
Virgil pulled his mask up, and his mustache clung to his face, disheveled and sweaty. “Well, I figured it would be.” He pulled a radio from his belt, then said, “Beast, what’s up?”
The radio squawked, then they heard Hunley say, “Still clear. Hurry up though!”
Jens shrieked and kicked the lock box open. “God damn, son!” said Virgil, but was ignored as the boys ran to the box. They saw gold, silver, and sparkling rubies.
“At least we know he’s not a Coil spy,” said Ullrich. “Wodi said this Captain was respected. No way a spy would turn on him.”
“Could be a spy for the Smiths, or even the Ugly,” said Pete. He and Virgil stared at one another.
“Whatever the case,” said Wodan, handling a heavy fireman’s axe, “he got his gun wet with us. He’s one of us, as far as I’m concerned.”
“But!” said Pete. “How’d he know there was a lockbox in the room?!”
“I fuh... freaking saw it when I walked in!” said Virgil, spreading his arms wide.
“Whatever, man,” said Jens, legs shaking under the weight of the lockbox. “He bought his way into my heart, that’s for sure.”
“Hey Pete,” said Ullrich. “Look at this book shelf.”
“What is it?”
“Somethin’ you might like.”
“I don’t like anything,” said Pete, still glaring at Virgil.
“Well, there’s more porn here than you can shake a stick at!”
Pete darted to the shelf. “Let me see!”
“I think Pete’s stick is shaking already!” said Jens, lumbering to the doorway.
“Alright,” said Pete, gathering the booklets in a heaping armful. “I guess the Lawman’s cool. The hell are you doing, Wodi?”
Wodan hefted the axe into the air and brought it crashing down onto the dead man’s shoulder. Jens gasped and his eyes widened into perfect ovals. Wodan slammed the axe down again, splitting through bone and layers of meat until the arm was severed from the torso. “It’s a message from the Ugly,” said Wodan. “You take our Right Arm, we’ll take one of your right arms.”
Jens turned around, ran into the doorway, and spewed vomit onto the wall. As Jens dropped the lockbox, Virgil grabbed it and hoisted it easily onto his shoulder.
“Damn it, Wodan,” said Jens, leaning against the wall. “Remind me to never go on a killing spree with a psychotic freak like you.”
* * *
The next night, Ullrich kicked in the door and Wodan dived and rolled inside, swinging his flashlight and gun around. The Captain shrieked and drew up in his bed, shadows catching in the lines of his face like a mask of terror, a figure caught in his own nightmare.
They heard rapid gunshots on the other side of the house. Jens grabbed his radio and yelled, “What’s going on?!”
They heard Virgil’s voice on the other end. “I got ’em! Don’t worry, they’re down.”
“It sounded like ten different gunshots!” said Jens. “How’d you not get hit, old man?!”
“They were all my bullets - told you I was a fast shot.”
Wodan rose and leveled his gun at the Captain. Ullrich and Jens stood on either side of him. The radio chimed again and Pete said, “You guys should’ve seen it. Hell, I barely saw it and I was there. We gotta learn this quick-draw bullshit from this old guy.”
Wodan paused, then said into the radio, “We’re going to practice our slow-draw up here first.”
“Huh?” said Jens.
Again into the radio, Wodan said, “Also, from now on Virgil’s codename is Father.”
“The codename thing is incredibly stupid,” Hunley’s voice came through the radio. “Hurry up.”
“Roger, Beast,” said Wodan. He turned to Jens, nodded to the Captain, then said, “Do him.”
“Somethin’ wrong with your gun?” said Jens.
“The only thing could go wrong with mine is overheating. Mine wants a break.”
“I told you I’ve already killed plenty of dudes before!”
“If that’s even true, it was probably a wild firefight in the street. This is different. If you’re gonna have my back, I need to know that you won’t hesitate. I’ll do it with you.”
“Fine,” said Jens.
“Wait, I know how we can make this easier.” Wodan focused on the Captain, then said, “Hey Coil, I read in your file that you’ve burned down at least three small businesses for not paying protection money. Can you imagine what that must have been like for the owners and their families? How do you think they could pay back their bank loans? Where do you think they are now? Are they living on the street? Did the women have to become prostitutes for the Ugly? Do you feel anything for what you’ve done?”
The Captain sat frozen, his face locked in the same position of mindless terror.
“They probably felt the same way you feel right now,” said Wodan, leveling his gun at the Captain. Jens did the same. “Let’s show this guy a little more mercy than he showed to those poor people.”
The boys fired and the side of the man’s head blew apart, spraying the wall with blood. Still immobile, the Captain screamed a shrill cry straight out of the abyss. Ullrich, Wodan, and Jens cursed and covered their ears. Jens jumped, held the gun in both hands, then fired again and a chunk of the man’s neck disappeared in a shower of tubing and his cry was cut off. The dead man leaned forward, spilling thick lines of blood onto his sheets.
There was shocked silence, then Ullrich screamed, “The Ugly sure do like to smash up a place!” and they leaped away as Ullrich swung a small table into a bedside mirror. They ran out of the room as Ullrich became a whirlwind of destruction.
“He’s just trying to make it look like his pizza place,” said Wodan, apologetically.
“Berserker,” said Jens, breathless. “That’s his codename. Berserker.”
* * *
Another night. Six Coilmen stumbled down the street, laughing and bracing one another. Virgil sat on a stoop across from the upscale titty bar they’d just left. He waited for them to get some distance, then said into his radio, “Father here. Three target Captains headed toward Pinecone and Hemlock with three others, probably Lieutenants. Wait for signal. Over.”
Virgil watched until the drunk Coilmen were far from the light of the bar. The radio beeped. He heard Wodan’s voice say, “I see them. Alright, everything’s clear. Do it!”
Tires squealed and a car blasted from its parking space and raced down the road. It swerved onto the sidewalk. The six Coilmen turned in time to see Ullrich at the wheel, shrieking maniacally. “Get off the road!” he screamed as he plowed into the men, crushing some and tossing others against brick walls or onto the street. Virgil ran to the intersection
as hard as he could and felt the pavement whizzing by underfoot. Ullrich charged into an empty intersection and slammed the brakes while turning hard. He and Jens jumped out, blasting wildly, while Pete joined them a moment too late. Virgil stopped, dug a foot into the ground, aimed his revolver, then blasted open a Coilman’s head as he lifted himself from the ground.
A younger Coil limped away from the disaster scene, panting, face ashen. It was a miracle that he’d escaped the kill zone, but the fates turned him toward a dark alley where Wodan waited for him. From the darkness, Wodan watched the man limp toward him, and he thought, It was the Coil who burned down poor Agmar’s family store. If it wasn’t for the Coil, he never would have gotten involved with the Ugly and their sick religion.
“Hey comrade,” said Wodan. “Do you know my friend Agmar Epemi?”
The Coil jerked, startled, just as Wodan placed his handgun against the man’s ribs and fired twice. The Coil collapsed into a pile of garbage, leaving the city a little cleaner than before.
The car bounced as Hunley climbed out of it. He knelt in front of the car and ripped off a thin plastic covering he’d taped onto it. “Probably still a pound of meat and hair on the underside,” he said, slitting his eyes. “Hope nobody bothers to check.”
“Quick about it, boys!” said Virgil. “Sir Smokes-a-Lot, grab the paint!”
Pete’s face was slack and his movements jerky as he hauled the paint from the car and slapped it onto a wall in the shape of a scarred skull. Wodan knelt over a dead Captain, then pulled on the man’s lips. Jens watched as Wodan removed his strange, brightly colored knife, then jammed it into the corner of the Coil’s mouth.
“Gods below!” said Jens, turning away quickly. “You gotta warn me before you do that shit, Psycho!”
“Just imagine,” said Wodan. “There’s a man in this city who did this to himself while he was still alive.”
“You mean Barkus?” said Virgil. “No, some part of him had to be dead already.”
* * *
Virgil walked lightly through the halls of Precinct Zero. He saw his friend Detective DeSark leave a holding cell. The senior detective nodded to him, then said, “We picked up that murderer Lembs. He’s waitin’, if you wanna talk to him.”
Demonworld Book 3: The Floyd Street Massacre Page 15
