The Disavowed Book 2 - In Harm's Way

by David Leadbeater

  Only myself to blame.

  Speaking of empty, Silk knew he couldn’t ignore the pains in his stomach any longer. Mouth-watering smells drifted across the street from a clean and new-looking burger stand, so Silk made his way across. He joined a line of chattering cops and tried to look inconspicuous. Eventually, when his turn came, the vendor greeted him with a wide smile.

  “Help you?”

  “Cheeseburger.”

  “Onions?”

  “Every time.”

  “Haven’t seen you before,” the vendor chatted as he took Silk’s money. “Visitor? Or guest?”

  Silk glanced behind him to the police station doors. “You’ve got a good eye. And hopefully neither.” Silk thanked the guy as he laughed easily and walked away. Having no doubt that his cell would start to chime the moment he bit into the big, greasy burger he took the chance.

  Oh, that’s good. No wonder there’s a line of cops over there.

  His cell burst into tune. “Yeah?” An onion draped itself happily across the screen.

  Susie Brewster talked fast. “I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea. He said he was nipping out y’know? Like for a donut or something. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Hey it’s okay.” Silk tried to swallow a mouthful of burger. “It was always gonna happen.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “More than that. He a dangerous asshole who’s actively trying to blow this case.”

  “Don’t worry. That won’t happen. Reggie’s not the only cop on the case.” She paused for a moment then said, “I guess you guys really put him through the wringer back then?”

  Silk found a wooden bench and sat, placing his half-eaten burger beside him. “Good days, bad days. You didn’t think about stuff like that.”

  “I get it. I really do. So, I have a few more things for you. Wanna meet for a drink later?”

  Silk opened his mouth, then hesitated. A drink? “You mean after work?”

  “Sure. I get off at seven. We’ll both step back though memory lane. Joint therapy. You know Foam?”

  “I’m sure I can find it.”

  “See you there.”

  Brewster hung up. Silk was left staring, wondering. There had been a chance, a small window, where he could have backed out. Asked for the information another way. But he hadn’t wanted to take it.

  Why?

  Shit.

  Silk saw Reggie Rosenthal push through the cop shop doors and head over to the burger stand. Before the big cop saw him and tried to make yet another issue, Silk scooped up his burger and walked away.

  Now he wasn’t scrutinizing every face, checking every shadow, and thinking how strange it was that he’d come full circle from being the one lurking in the shadows. The answer was a simple one anyway—the world moved on.

  Now he was thinking about tonight.

  19

  That night, as the blazing city lights came to life and obscured even the stars in the sky, Silk toiled his way through the streets and parked up near the bar. The air was fresh, the smell of salt discernable this close to the surf. Silk entered the bar and looked around for Brewster, then got a little wave from a booth in the back. As he threaded his way toward her a pang of guilt jabbed at his chest.

  What am I doing?

  But this is work, right? This is the case. Brewster’s an asset, a damn good one, and I should make every effort to indulge her. Mini-crisis averted, he sat down across from her, trying hard not to stare at the pretty face subtly highlighted by faint lipstick, eyeliner and blusher.

  “I ordered the bottle,” she said, indicating the Jack that sat in the middle of the table. “Figured we could do with it.”

  Silk didn’t answer. If she wanted to justify her drinking that was fine. He didn’t know her well enough to offer an opinion. But telling her that he was drinking to forget was one luxury he could afford. “The less I remember tonight the better.”

  Brewster’s face hardened a little. “Must be nice. And, by the way, do you know how much shit I could bring down on myself, talking to you like this?”

  Silk shrugged. “Seems to me as if you don’t really care.”

  “Maybe I don’t. The brass, they put me with Rosenthal. Supposed to be a fresh start, fresh city, and they put me with that loser.”

  “And this is your way of paying ‘em back?”

  “You’re kidding? No, this is my way of cracking this goddamn case and gettin’ a little recognition. Maybe I’ll get out from under his shadow.”

  “So you’re using me?” Silk gave a little smirk.

  “You wish.” Brewster poured more shots. “But this case of yours is a total crapstorm. The brass are coming down on Bussey hard—that’s the guy in charge of the task force—even intimating that if he doesn’t get a lead soon he’ll be out of a job. Problem is, everything seems random, but it’s not. The only link is the gang and even that’s not a concrete connection because of this asshole drug dealer the killer murdered. Did he just get in the way? Why travel all the way to Vegas to do him? What’s his connection? Does he even have one?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Coroner’s report is in. So is the CSI. The only thing they can tell us is that our killer’s good. I’ll spare you the details but our victims literally had no chance. We have a CCTV picture of the van spotted at Santa Monica, next to Jassman’s car, but it’s too far away to get any details. Even the feds are going up the fuckin’ wall.”

  “Have you found Freddie Knott?”

  “Not yet. But we will. Just a matter of time.”

  “That’s what he doesn’t have.”

  Brewster’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  Silk stared at her. The anger fired her expression into life. How anyone could look so attractive whilst expressing irritation startled him.

  “Well, sorry.”

  “Can’t you give us any more? What was Jassman like? D’you think she might’ve stayed in touch with the old crew?”

  “Tanya?” Silk smiled. “She was life. Pure energy. We all fed off it. She ran away from an abusive brother. Her parents didn’t believe her.”

  Brewster shook her head.

  “Yeah, I know. They hated her for sullying their image of her older brother, and when she couldn’t take any more she just upped and left. We all helped to protect her, but then we were all in harm’s way.” Silk laughed gently. “Guess we always have been. There are monsters in this world, Brewster. Pure, evil monsters. Doesn’t matter how old they are, a father’s loved child is always in harm’s way.”

  “Do you believe she saved you?”

  Silk drank more, shaking his head. “Not exactly. She gave us all hope, made the world a brighter place. You know, one thing she used to do? I remember it now as if it was last night. Every day she used to write in a diary and every night she would read it back to me. I used to lay with my head in her lap, looking up at her eyes, and she’d read the words, letting them wash over me. Somehow, that made it all better. It washed the day away.”

  “She cared,” Brewster said simply.

  “She did.” Silk nodded. “But in that world caring was considered a weakness that could be exploited. One time . . .” Silk looked down at the table, its surface permanently marked and stained through time, and was transported far into the past. “One time I had to fight for her very life. We all did.”

  *

  1994:

  Silk passed quickly through the big house. Returning home was no easy task for the younger, greener members of the gang. Someone always had an eye out for your quota, a little extra to add to their stash. Usually they returned as a group, but today Silk was alone and slipped through the rooms fast with his head down. Without meaning or wanting to, he caught fragmentary glimpses of barely surviving, desperate lives on his way past.

  The babies moaning in their cots whilst their mothers sat beside them, too exhausted after months of toiling and begging to care anymore. The older youths posturing and
talking shit, trying to sound like the latest multi-million-selling rapper without ever really knowing why, getting themselves into trouble because they’d been told it was the right thing to do. And because it was all they knew how to do. Older men sat in darker corners, eyes glinting with animosity and bitterness, any sense of value shot to pieces through lifetimes of hard experience. The crazies, walking in circles and touching the crumbling walls as if they offered some kind of solace. Heads bobbing, mouths shut tight or bleeding or held wide open to reveal rotten teeth and ulcers.

  Silk walked past their worlds and entered his own.

  At first, it seemed as if nothing had changed. Rydell and Finch sat in one corner, on the floor next to their mattresses, one snorting from a little dab of powder held in the pad of skin between first finger and thumb, the other staring into space and talking to himself, reciting an old nursery rhyme that he remembered his mother singing softly to him before she was murdered.

  “. . . if you see a lion don’t forget to . . .”

  There are hundreds of lions in here. And crocodiles. And far worse, Silk thought. But Glenn Finch had long since ceased to roar or scream. He just . . . existed. Silk then saw Freddie Knott standing in another corner.

  The youth had his knife bared. Not unusual, but back here in the home it usually meant trouble.

  Silk quickly took in the rest of the scene. Tanya Jazz sat at the foot of her own mattress, earphone wires dangling over her shoulders as always, the tinny music she loved just audible, but the usual dreamy look on her face had been replaced by a mix of determination and outright fear as she glared up at a threatening figure.

  It was a man Silk half recognized. Named Lemmy he was known as a fringer, one of those Eddie Coleman didn’t like and wanted out of the ‘family’, but needed to keep around because of their useful skill set.

  Lemmy’s was intimidation. The guy loved it. He was the perfect bully—over six and a half feet, wide, wiry-muscled and psychotic—he filled a role as enforcer. Silk wondered what the hell he was doing back here.

  “Hey.”

  Lemmy turned around, lips curled into a snarl. “Fuck off.”

  “What’s the problem here?”

  “Problem?” Lemmy repeated mockingly. “Ain’t no problem. Jus’ gonna get me some fresh right here. Sick and tired o’ them old sweaty whores Coleman pays us with. Used ‘em time and again. Used ‘em up. Think maybe now I deserve me some fresh.”

  “She’s sixteen.” Silk didn’t move.

  Lemmy’s evil grin widened. “Even better.”

  Tanya scooted back to the head of her mattress, trying hard not to look scared. She unhooked her earplugs and let them drop to the floor. Now the tinny music played forlornly to itself, forgotten at her feet. “Leave me alone.”

  “You’ll live.” Lemmy spread his big hands. “More or less.”

  “Coleman will exile you.” Silk still didn’t move. He noticed that Freddie Knott, with his sharp knife, had moved back up against the nearest wall when Lemmy spread his hands. Knott was another one who only threatened those he considered weaker than himself.

  Lemmy paused for a second. “Coleman? Don’t fool yourself, kid. That prick knows everything what goes on in his house.”

  Silk frowned. He does? That was news to Silk. If it was true then he should start thinking of Coleman a little differently. Ruthless tyrant rather than hard benefactor. A shadow beneath an enigma, wrapped in a false cloak of benevolence.

  Lemmy grinned. “Stay and watch the show, boys. Might as well teach y’all a few things.”

  Silk tried again. “Take my quota and walk away. Take all our quotas.”

  Lemmy grunted. “Gonna do that as well, don’t you worry. First though.” He paused. “Hey, you sweet on this chick, kid?”

  Silk stared past him to the girl who never failed to save his life. The beauty, love and life in her shone back at him even now as she stood in a kind of admirable defiant terror. Even now, she gave him strength.

  “I love her.” He stepped forward.

  Lemmy noticed and switched stance. “She gonna be mine in about one minute. You test me I’ll break your back.”

  “You won’t get chance.”

  Silk knew exactly where this scenario was headed. Down shit creek and fast. No way would a man like Lemmy ever back off. So Silk struck first. It was their only chance. With a shrill roar he charged the big man, tackling him around the waist and pushing him backwards about three paces. Lemmy grunted half in anger, half in surprise.

  “Ya gone an’ fucked up real bad now, son.”

  Silk shoved hard, feeling Lemmy’s calves come up against the bed. His hope was to knock the man down then jump on top, but Lemmy was no rookie fighter. With the barest of shoulder shrugs he threw Silk around so it was he who ended up on the bed, tumbling sideways.

  Tanya’s deep, scared eyes stared down at him.

  “Huh.” Lemmy grinned. “Maybe I’ll fuck ya both.”

  There was a second roar and in came Freddie Knott, shrugging off his fears and showing he was a solid part of their little family. His knife was raised, making Lemmy duck to the side, unbalancing the man. As Freddie swung by, Lemmy smashed a solid blow into his kidneys. Freddie’s gasps came instantly. The knife clattered away. Lemmy placed a boot on the young man’s neck, making breathing that much harder. Freddie’s face turned purple.

  “Come at me with a knife will ya? Not clever.”

  Then Silk launched himself and Tanya scrambled along at his side. Lemmy was forced to step away from Freddie, allowing him to breathe. Silk threw his whole body at the big man, striking around the chest and forcing him further back. Tanya hit lower, going for his balls. Lemmy twisted aside at the last second, delivering a hard punch to the girl’s temple. Silk rained blow after blow against Lemmy’s chest, knuckles striking hard bone and tough muscle.

  But Lemmy was backing away. His eyes registered disbelief. There was one second of uncertainty before his eyes happened upon the helpless Tanya groaning at his feet.

  The haze took him again. “C’mere bitch.”

  One huge hand took a grip of her hair, hauling her to the side. Her scream sent daggers through Silk’s soul but only made Lemmy’s grin widen. Why were there people who seemed to take pleasure in destroying beauty? Why did they yearn to take innocence away? For God’s sake, Silk thought, a child is innocent only for about eight or nine years of their life, if that. Yet still there exist monsters determined to steal even those few precious years.

  Silk jabbed at Lemmy’s throat, at his eyes, at every sensitive extremity. Behind him he heard Freddie rise. Then, to Lemmy’s side, both Rydell and Finch stood up. Amazingly, their eyes were clear, their faces resolute. The drugs were momentarily forgotten, the haze of a painful history put aside. Lemmy gawped as four men suddenly appeared before him, ready to defend their friend with their lives.

  “Fuckin’ Jesus,” he said. “Her tits made of gold or something? What she got that’s so special?”

  Silk growled. “You could never know. Never see.”

  “I’ll see soon enough,” Lemmy snarled back. “I got friends too.”

  Silk saw the false bravado in his eyes and laughed. “No you don’t. A friend to you would be nothing more than a person to boast to, to lie to, and to fuck over whenever you felt like it. You’re alone Lemmy. Not a true friend in the world.”

  The inner fires of hate burned bright in Lemmy’s eyes and Silk knew that his words would stay with him forever, haunting him. The man would never forget this moment, nor the pure hatred he felt.

  “Go,” Silk said. “Leave us alone.”

  “One day,” Lemmy blustered. “One day I will make you pay. You’ll get hers and yours. You all will.”

  *

  Silk came back to the present, still with Lemmy’s face ingrained in his inner vision. He hadn’t thought about the big bruiser in years. He’d never made good on his threat. Never gotten his revenge, and Silk considered him now.

  Could it be
Lemmy? Killing off the crew that embarrassed him all those years ago?

  No. His brain couldn’t accept it. Even on his cleverest day, Lemmy had never been bright enough to get away with one murder let alone four. And the MO? The slashed throats . . .

  . . . up close and personal . . .

  Didn’t suit Lemmy at all. A bludgeon maybe.

  Silk suddenly realized Susie Brewster was staring at him. “Sorry? Did I zone out?”

  “She must have meant the world to you.”

  “And more.”

  “So tell me this. Why did you leave her there and why have you only rarely contacted her since?”

  Silk’s heart flipped. A hollow feeling settled in. “Youth,” he said. “The CIA recruited me at seventeen. I fought for her. I told them her worth, but they didn’t listen. And they made it plain my choice was simple—now or never. Initially, I was gone for years. Years . . .” he tailed off. “Training. Preparatory ops. Then the team ops. Undercover. By the time I came back—”

  “It could never be the same.”

  Silk looked at her, found her gaze deep and enjoyable. “Exactly. When you have a group of friends, and you’re with them, you think those feelings, that great camaraderie you share, will last forever. It shocks you later when you realize it’s gone and you can never return to those times again.”

  “Life changes.”

  “God.” Silk laughed. “That’s deep.”

  Brewster laughed too, and the expression looked good on her, crinkling her nose and drawing attention to her mouth. Silk studied her closely, too closely. He felt himself lean in a little before pulling back, wondering how much he’d actually had to drink.

  A second bottle was now on the table.

  He didn’t remember it arriving.

  Brewster’s gaze was also a little dreamy. “I knew you wanted to kiss me,” she said. “From the first moment I saw you.”

  Silk took a breath. “I’m married,” he said. “And I love my wife.”