City By Night: Resurgence: A Sam Stevens Mystery

by J. D. Dunsford

  After lunch he let himself fall into a book; nothing especially deep or thoughtful, the kind of thing that would race through his mind and leave no lingering impact. After the week he had had he figured he had earned that. And yet despite his attempts to lose himself in the story, he found his mind wandering.

  For a long time now he had not considered himself a criminal. He had been, of course, in his younger days, and no part of him had denied it. He had never even considered another way of doing things until he met Sally. But now Sally was gone, what was he? He had tried hard to be a functional member of society, but the Sword of Damocles that was his past had always kept him from pushing too hard into a legitimate lifestyle. Maybe there never could be one for him. And if that was true, then what choice did he have?

  He looked around at the library. The luxury, the wealth, the comfort… this was where the criminal life could deposit him. Not that Lucinda was technically a criminal, although the grey area in which people who encouraged guests to bring weapons to their establishment existed was possibly a little darker than grey. But whatever she considered herself, her life was in the shadows, running parallel to the criminals, occasionally interfering when their business threatened hers. She lived in the underworld, and in return, she lived in the lap of luxury, in an underground kingdom with a safe, central fortress and several escape routes nobody knew about it. She had lived here for years while Sam Stevens lost the love of his life and slaved away at a menial construction job, and for what?

  He didn’t want to return to crime. He knew that. But there were two facts he could no longer deny; one was that the last few days had made him feel more alive than he had since losing Sally, the other was that he was angry. Angry that all his attempts to be a good person and do the right thing had left him with exactly nothing. Here he was, relying on the mercy and hospitality of Lucinda, in order to be kept from death. And if that cop hadn’t tried to kill him? He would just be living out that same daily grind. He had promised Sally, at her grave before he killed O’Neill, that if he survived, he would go out and live, but what did that even mean? What life was there for a former enforcer now forced to act as the weapon for an almost-kingpin club owner?

  Sam was taken aback to realise that again, the hours had escaped him, and it was nearly dinner time. He replaced the barely touched book on the shelf and headed to the dining room, where he was surprised to find the butler waiting without food.

  ‘You will be dining with Lucinda tonight,’ he said simply, then gestured back to the door.

  Bemused, Sam stepped back into the hall. The butler emerged from the room and led him down to a right turn, then another, until they arrived at an elevator. He flashed his card, and it slid open. Sam knew better than to ask anymore as they both stepped in, the butler flashed his card again, and the elevator started moving. It was going upwards; he knew that much, but after a while, it became clear that it was climbing much higher than just a few floors. Higher than ground level. Sam felt himself tense. He knew that tonight was the night he was to finish Lucinda’s job, but he also knew that he wasn’t leaving here until almost midnight. It was only 7pm. So what was this?

  ‘This’ turned out to be the last thing he could have expected. The elevator opened out onto a vast room fringed with windows overlooking the expanse of the city. Outside the sun was just starting to set, painting the sky with violent flashes of orange and pink. He could smell food wafting from a nearby door, but his eyes were led across the carpet to a large table positioned right near one of the windows, at which Lucinda waited, wine in hand. She smiled and gestured for Sam to join her, which he did as the butler retreated into what he assumed was the kitchen.

  ‘This is lavish,’ Sam said, casting an eye over the spectacular view.

  ‘I thought if this was going to be your last meal we might as well make it one to remember,’ Lucinda said.

  Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘Thank you for the vote of confidence.’

  ‘I’m not voting anything,’ Lucinda said, pouring a glass of red wine for herself then one for Sam. ‘Whatever happens tonight is up to you. Has the accommodation been to your liking?’

  ‘Very much,’ Sam said, taking a sip of wine. ‘Better than anywhere I’ve slept… well, ever.’

  ‘Some people don’t like the fact that it’s underground,’ Lucinda said. ‘They prefer a view.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘You have a view right here, if you want. Besides, I’ve always worked by night. You don’t get much of a view in the dark.’

  Lucinda nodded, eyes never leaving Sam. ‘So you wouldn’t mind making it a permanent home?’

  Sam stopped mid-sip and lowered his glass. There was no hint of a joke in Lucinda’s eyes. ‘I thought tonight was going to be my last night on earth,’ Sam said.

  ‘But if not, then what?’ Lucinda said. ‘If you finally win, where will you go? Back to construction jobs? The police are still looking for you, and their attention will return when the Hector O’Neill debacle is cleaned up. Even if you go to them and explain everything, you still broke into his house and killed him in cold blood. Not to mention all the other bodies you’ve littered this city with. Will you change your identity and go on the run? You tried that, and now Kevin Jackson is as good as dead. The blow you deliver to the syndicate tonight might cripple them to the point that if they ever reform you’ll no longer be a target, but that will not remove the attention of the law.’

  ‘You’ll put me up here in exchange for what?’

  ‘In exchange for services like tonight.’ Lucinda leaned forward. ‘Not often of course. They could be years apart. I’ll break you out like the finest china for the jobs that need someone as skilled as you.’

  ‘And the rest of the time?’ Sam said. ‘I’ll sit in the gilded cage and get fat and lazy?’

  ‘No,’ Lucinda said. ‘You’ll be a business partner. Someone who understands the lay of the land. Someone who has been inside the syndicate. Someone very adept at protecting themselves.’

  ‘You know for someone with no interest in controlling the underworld, you’re very interested in controlling the underworld.’

  Lucinda smiled. ‘I’m not controlling anything. I’m keeping the balance. Watching the watchmen, as it were. Nobody sees my influence because I make a big fuss about having none, and wanting none. All Lucinda wants is a good time, right?’ she laughed. ‘That’s what made me rich.’

  Sam leaned back in his chair, thinking. It was a tempting offer. Beyond tempting. It wouldn’t require from him any of what his old work had. He could have an impact, and he could be comfortable and for the most part safe. There was only one question.

  ‘How do you know you can trust me?’ he asked.

  Lucinda’s smile grew. ‘Because you have no-one else in the world, Sam.’

  A heavy silence fell over the room. Lucinda’s eyes moved towards the kitchen. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Dinner. I assume steak is still your favourite?’

  Chapter Five

  Sam knew on some level he should have been past the point where anything about Lucinda or the Realm surprised him, but the armoury had been something else altogether. He knew that she had flexible views about adhering to the law, but he was fairly sure that some of the weapons she had were illegal even at a government level. He was told to take whatever he would need from the enormous room lined with guns, knives, and bombs of every description, but in the end, he went small. Two silenced pistols with extra ammunition, a knife, and two grenades, just in case.

  He was given a plain dark suit to wear. At first, he thought it was somewhat impractical until one of Lucinda’s hench people explained that this was what Robert’s guards would be wearing. It would give him at least a momentary advantage of uncertainty when they saw him. The final thing Lucinda provided was a map of the area at the docks, with crosses marking all the positions of the armed guards. Sam wasn’t sure how exactly she had gotten something this extensive, but he wasn’t about to complain. It was basically a cheat shee
t ensuring his own survival, and he didn’t see much need to question that too closely.

  It did occur to him that perhaps he should be careful about trusting Lucinda, that history suggested she might be playing some much larger game here, but in the end, he could think of no reason for her to betray him. If she wanted him gone for whatever reason or was somehow in cahoots with Robert she could have easily had him bundled off to the syndicate without a second glance from anyone. He had put himself completely at her mercy. At this point, he had no choice but to go along with what she offered. It was potentially a better outcome than he had dared think he might get.

  The exit he was led to was nowhere near as glamourous as the one that led up into the skyscraper; rather it was just a plain, concrete lined staircase heading up to ground level. Nearing the top, he briefly considered the possibility that Robert’s men were positioned here, as they surely were at many of the other exits to the club, but as he stepped out into the cool night air inside a narrow alley, he was met with only the smell of the sea. There was no sign of anybody else here.

  It didn’t take him long to reach the docks, then, following the map and sticking to the shadows, to find the two long, parallel warehouses that led down to where the ship was. As per Lucinda’s map, they were surrounded by a tall fence topped with razor wire. From the shadows across the street, Sam could see the dark shapes of two men waiting at the front gate. He had known they’d be there, and he knew two more were positioned on the top of each warehouse, crouched and watching.

  Four silenced shots, quick and making hardly any noise in the night, and Sam hurried across the road. He reached through a gap in the fence and retrieved one of the dead men’s keys, using them to let himself in. Then, staying low and in the shadows between the two warehouses, he began to move.

  Men were positioned at regular intervals on top of the warehouses and alongside them, but he had already memorised their positions, and none of them knew he was coming. One by one they dropped as Sam approached the end of the warehouses and the looming shape of the ship grew closer and closer.

  It was enormous, towering over and dwarfing the warehouses, a gigantic cargo freighter. The thin gangplank leading from the dock up to the deck seemed almost absurd by comparison. Two more men waited at the bottom, and by the time Sam reached them they were just two more bodies.

  It had been easy. Too easy, but that was the thing about situations like this; the guards never would have expected that anybody would know their exact positions. Sam’s advantage was an insurmountable one.

  He looked up the gangplank. As straightforward as that had been, a new fear was starting to overcome him. Because even if the rest of this was as easy as it had been so far, even if he walked away from here in minutes unscathed and victorious, that did not change who he was about to come face to face with. That did not change the fact that this moment was what he had tried to avoid for years now. This moment, ultimately, was just proof; he could never really escape who he was.

  He walked up the gangplank.

  Three men stood on the deck of the ship; two flanking the third with rifles. Sam took them both down but stopped before he shot the third, who raised both his hands. His suit, unlike the others, was dark blue and close fitting. He wore no tie and even in the darkness Sam could recognise that skeletal face.

  ‘Hello Jack,’ he said, levelling both pistols at the man.

  It seemed to take the other man a moment to realise who he was. When he did he exhaled. ‘Sam. Jesus Christ.’

  ‘Where’s Robert?’

  ‘Why are you here, Sam?’

  ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘Maybe we can work something out.’

  ‘We both know that isn’t true.’

  For a moment, the night was silent. ‘How did you get past the guards?’ Kent asked.

  Sam didn’t reply. He was pretty sure he saw Kent’s shoulders slump slightly as realisation hit.

  ‘Lucinda,’ he said. ‘Does she realise what she’s done? The enemy she’s made?’

  ‘It’s hard for an enemy to remain an enemy when they don’t remain alive,’ Sam said. ‘Where is Robert?’

  Kent dropped his arms. ‘Why should I tell you?’

  ‘Because your chances of staying alive increase if you do. I’m here for him, Jack, not you. You’re an assistant. He’s the threat.’

  ‘What makes you think I’d betray him?’

  ‘Nothing. That choice is yours. Give him up, you live. Don’t, you die. You have thirty seconds to decide, then I pull the trigger. Is he below deck?’

  Kent nodded.

  ‘Call him. Tell him he’s needed up here.’

  For a moment, Sam wondered if honour would beat self-preservation. If maybe Kent was braver than he had ever given him credit for. But it only took that moment for him to take out his phone and, with shaking hands, make the call. He put the phone to his ear. Sam kept the gun levelled. A last-minute attempt to warn his boss wasn’t out of the question.

  ‘We need you up here, now,’ Kent said. ‘There’s something I have to discuss, it’s urgent. Come quick.’ He hung up and lowered his arm as Sam approached.

  ‘Very good. Now turn around.’

  Kent did. Sam stepped right up behind him, one gun to the back of his head. He holstered the other one and took the grenade from his belt. ‘Where will they be coming from?’

  Kent nodded to one of the doors built into a cabin on the deck of the ship. Sam kept his eyes on it, but listened just in case there was a last-minute surprise.

  There wasn’t. The door opened and about five men emerged, followed by the one that made Sam’s hand tighten on the pistol.

  Robert did not look like a drug lord. Handsome in middle age, he was tall and broad shouldered, with a winning smile he never seemed to drop and wavy hair that was perhaps a little long for his age. He wore a plain sweater and jeans; he could easily have been someone’s friendly Dad.

  His men reached for their weapons, but, seeing Kent held hostage, did not draw. Robert’s eyes met Sam’s, and he smiled.

  ‘Sometimes things do take unexpected turns,’ he said. ‘You really did exceed all expectations.’

  ‘Your expectations should have been higher,’ Sam said. ‘How are you, Robert?’

  Robert shrugged. ‘Considering the circumstances, not as good as I’d like to be. So it seems Lucinda has decided to involve herself after all. That’s very unfortunate. Generous of her to let you do her dirty work, though.’

  ‘What can I say, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

  ‘So tell me,’ Robert said. ‘Are you finally ready to cross that bridge you spent years avoiding? Kill your own brother?’

  ‘Self-defence is self-defence,’ Sam said. ‘You came for me first Robert. Why? I thought we had a deal.’

  ‘We did,’ Robert said. ‘Then I changed my mind. You were never not going to be a threat. And besides, I guess I was more raw about you taking Sally then I thought.’

  ‘I didn’t take Sally anywhere,’ Sam said. ‘She made up her mind. There was nothing you or I could do about that.’

  ‘Practically, no,’ Robert said. ‘But emotionally I think I’ll feel a lot better about a lot of things once you’re dead.’

  ‘You think that’s how this situation will go?’ Sam said.

  ‘I think I’m curious to find out.’

  ‘Then let’s find out,’ Sam said, before moving his gun and shooting one of Robert’s men in the head.

  Reflexes took over – for everyone. The four remaining men drew their guns as Robert threw himself to the ground. Sam remained standing long enough for them to lift their weapons, their brains already sending the signal to fire before he shoved Kent forward and dived to the side. Jack Kent’s screams filled the night along with the gunfire that riddled him as Sam threw the grenade.

  He hit the deck the instant it went off, hands clapped over his ears against the deafening explosion. He felt a searing pain in his shoulder and realised that one
of the bullets had hit him. They were better trained than he thought.

  He opened his eyes. Side on, he surveyed the deck; there were bodies all around the place, and the air was filled with smoke. He was alive, but-

  Something took a hold of his neck and pulled him up. He cried out as the bullet in his shoulder seemed to embed itself deeper then, through his blurred vision he saw Robert’s blackened face looking coldly into his.

  ‘Sally made a big mistake with you,’ he said. ‘I know that. I hope she knew before the end. Because wherever you end up going, she’ll look at you and know what a disappointment you were.’

  Sam felt himself shoved hard against the barrier around the edge of the ship. He was still seated and was in too much pain to stand – even if he could have. Robert’s hand, a vice around his neck, kept him in place as he crouched in front of him.

  ‘You’ve always been the unkillable cockroach,’ Robert said. ‘Moving in the night-time shadows, killing my men, ever the thorn in my side. But I’ve had enough now. Maybe part of me always went easy on you because you were my little brother. Maybe I forgave you for a lot of that, turned a blind eye. But no more. I’ll send you back to Lucinda in pieces before I burn the Realm out from under the city. And when I do, I hope she knows that was the only thing you managed to achieve for her.’

  Robert let go of Sam and stood. He drew a knife.

  ‘I’m going to make this last,’ he shouted, when suddenly a bullet exploded through his stomach, embedding in the metal barrier beside Sam’s head, making everything ring.

  Robert looked down at his wound, eyes wide, stunned. There was no sign of pain, just surprise. Then he staggered, reached forward to grab the barrier, missed, and went right over it. Sam heard a splash and then just the ringing in his ears.

  He took a long, deep breath. His whole body was trembling. But he was alive. He was alive.