The Blade

by Saul, Jonas

  Carson had even asked him once if he’d known Darwin before the Fuccini incident. Greg said that Darwin had saved the FBI a lot of undercover work, a lot of paperwork, and tons of money in the courts by offing the Fuccinis. The amount of money the government would spend housing Darwin and his wife would never come close to what he’d saved them. Greg just wanted the best for a couple who had been through hell and back.

  The doors opened and travelers piled into the terminal, hugging relatives as they went. Some blocked the doors. A security guard asked people to keep moving.

  Fucking rent-a-cop.

  Finally, after a fifteen-minute wait, the doors opened and Greg emerged, looking haggard, his hair a mess, his face showing the years. He had a small carry-on bag in one hand as he walked right past Carson.

  “Hold up,” Carson said.

  Greg stopped and turned around. “Oh, hi.”

  “I’m your ride.”

  “No, it’s okay. I called ahead. I have a car waiting outside.”

  “Yeah, you do. My car.”

  Greg turned away and started walking.

  “Special Agent Stinsen,” Carson said as he hustled to keep up, “you’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

  “Oh yeah, says who?”

  “I do. We have five men down. Good men. And you’re the only person who knows Darwin. This is my case and I intend to find the prick and fix this. I need you and you need me.”

  Greg stopped walking and turned to face Carson. “‘Prick’? Are you serious? So you’ve decided he’s guilty? Without any evidence or the aid of the system?”

  “Are you saying there’s another conclusion? I mean, if you are, tell me now.”

  Greg shook his head and turned to walk away. Carson grabbed Greg’s shoulder and spun him back.

  “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” Carson said too loud. People slowed to watch. “Five good men were shot and killed like they were in someone’s way. Families have lost brothers, fathers, sons. These were men I worked with. The evidence we have so far leads to Darwin. You know him better than anybody at the Bureau. If you don’t come willingly, I will have you assigned to me and I’ll make you wipe my fucking ass every chance I get. Are we clear?”

  Greg leaned in close and said, “Two things. One, fuck. And two, you. Are we clear?”

  Carson felt an urge to raise his fist and slam it into the asshole’s face. As his hand twitched, his cell phone rang. He grabbed it too fast, making Greg step back a little in defense.

  “What?” he said into the phone.

  “Bob Freska is dead.”

  “What?” he said, louder this time.

  Greg didn’t move.

  “We found him ten minutes ago about a mile away from the Sleep On Inn motel. He was shot in the back of the head and strapped to the hood of his car. Someone scrawled, ‘Death to all cops’ on the windshield. This Darwin kid is on a rampage.”

  “Okay, keep me posted,” Carson said and hung up.

  He glared at Greg. “Do you know what that was all about?”

  “No idea, but I’m sure you are going to tell me.”

  “Rudy Earlton—you know the name—just called to tell me they found another one of Darwin’s victims.”

  “And you’re sure this is Darwin’s doing?”

  “Bob Freska, a local degenerate cop we all know at the bureau office, went to the motel where Darwin and his wife were holed up after stealing a pickup from a Mobil gas station a few miles down the road from their safe house. We have witnesses to corroborate what I just said. The motel clerk even talked to Bob when he came to fetch the Kostas. We couldn’t reach him for the last hour and wondered why. Now we know. He was just found strapped to the hood of his car. He has been shot in the head and there was a message on the windshield of his car. It said, ‘Death to all cops’.” He paused to let it sink into Greg’s thick skull. “We will get Darwin with or without your help. I suspect it’ll be easier with you, and there’s a chance he will make it out of this alive if you’re around. Otherwise, I can’t make any guarantees.”

  Greg looked up and down the long corridor and then back at Carson.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Chapter 9

  Rosina rolled off the stained mattress and got to her feet. She paced the little room they’d put her in. She had heard the gunfire and guessed what had happened.

  What she didn’t know was whether or not her husband had been hit. If he was still alive, would they put him in the same room with her? Or would they put him somewhere else?

  She guessed the latter of the two. She refused to believe Darwin was dead.

  In her simple square room, there was nothing she could use as a weapon. It was four walls and a mattress, which was stained and beyond repair, but it was softer than the floor.

  How long have I been in here?

  Long enough for her breathing to get back to normal. She couldn’t believe what she had gone through. Her hair sat heavy on her shoulders, still wet from the pool. Even though she’d taken in half a dozen gulps of chlorinated pool water, she could still taste cinnamon on her breath. It would be a long time before she ever bought anything with cinnamon in it again.

  They were in serious trouble. Every law enforcement agency was probably out hunting them after what happened at the safe house. Then the gas station fiasco. And now they were guests of a homicidal maniac who had no intention of letting them live. Could they have escaped the Fuccinis just to be killed by the Gambinos?

  She didn’t think so.

  My hubby will come up with something. He always does.

  The door to her room clicked open and almost banged into her. One of the guards stepped in and looked her up and down.

  “A sweet young thing,” he said. “Man, are you going to be fun.”

  “Just try. We’ll see how much fun we have.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. We have whips and chains. Once you’re tied up, all you can do is take what we give you, as long and hard as we want. Isn’t that every woman’s fantasy … to be taken?”

  “Yes, to be taken by the man she loves and not by an asshole. There’s only room enough in my pants for one asshole. Sorry.”

  “Cute.”

  The guard stepped in to make room for the other men behind him, seven total. The seventh one held two pairs of cuffs.

  Fear gripped her. She wondered if she would be better off dead.

  “You need this many men to hold me down? Wow, you have a lot of faith in me … or fear. I like that.”

  The guard closest to her moved so fast she didn’t see his hand. He hit her hard. She spun on her feet and fell to the cot with a yelp escaping her lips. She had no chance to turn around as the rest of the guards pounced while she was down.

  In seconds, both her wrists and her ankles were bound and then, in unison, they let her go and stood up, leaving her sprawled on the mattress.

  She tasted blood.

  “You bastard. You cut my lip.”

  “Next time, I’ll cut your face. Shut the fuck up. The boss wants to talk to you and what he has to say is important.”

  “What if I don’t want to talk to him?”

  “He believes in consequences. Don’t make him give you one.”

  Another guard stepped forward and handed a black bag to the man talking to her. He looked in the bag, smiled, and pulled something out.

  “This is a douche,” he said, holding it up. “You will be expected to shower in the morning and change those filthy clothes. No one will touch you with vomit on your shirt. Then you will use this douche to clean on the inside to prepare for your day. New douches will be provided throughout the day as needed. None of us enjoy sloppy seconds.” He reached inside the bag and pulled something else out. “This is an enema kit. You will use one of these first thing in the morning to clean everything out as some of the men only want that. At times you will have more than one guard in bed with you and you must have all areas clean and available. New enema kits
will be provided daily. Do you understand what is required of you?”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. There was no way she would do what they were asking.

  “I’d rather be dead,” she said.

  “That can be arranged. If you refuse to do this willingly, it will be forced upon you. We have enough chains to hook you up and have a maid douche you between sessions. Do it willingly and there’ll be no restraints.” He smiled down at her as he set the items back in the bag and placed them on the floor. “The option of no restraints offers you a sense of freedom. It would make you feel like a willing partner instead of a rape victim. One is more mentally damaging than the other, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Fuck you. Kill me first.”

  The door moved as someone new entered the room.

  Frankie Gambino. He held a laptop computer in his hands, the screen open and shining on his face.

  “I see you’re learning our rules. That’s good. You’ll fit in nicely for the last few weeks of your use to us. If you are a troublesome nuisance by the end of your first month here, you will be shot and killed. If you’re a loving, willing partner during your stay here, you may remain on as a maid. Your future is in your hands.”

  Hatred and revulsion coursed through her. How someone like this could exist for as long as he had with no interference from the law baffled her. She had thought the Fuccinis were scary. Gambino had to be Lucifer’s cousin or long-lost brother.

  That’s why Gambino shot up that meeting all those months ago at the abandoned airplane hangar where the rival families were meeting. Because he’s insane.

  She knew she would never let them touch her. Rest in peace meant just that. She could rest and have peace. The alternative was horror in its purest form.

  “Now, for the reason I brought this with me,” Gambino said, gesturing to the computer. He motioned with his head and six men stepped closer, three on each side of her. “Hold her if she becomes hostile.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  “I have terrible news for you.”

  She didn’t respond. Her mouth wouldn’t work and her stomach felt like it had dropped through the mattress.

  “I offered your husband a deal. Play checkers with me and win and I would let you two go free. You are aware he decided to not play with me. You probably heard the gunshots?”

  She nodded, dreading what he was about to say.

  “Because Darwin decided not to play, he forfeited the game. I executed the Hernandez family as the players weren’t needed anymore. You two have lost your freedom. But there was a problem.”

  He paused and looked around the tiny room at all his men. She detected a subtle message being told to each one. Her wrists tested the bond of the handcuffs as her fear increased on the inside, testing her sanity.

  “Your husband didn’t agree with my method.”

  Good for you, Darwin. I love you.

  “He ran at me,” Gambino continued. “My men had no option but to shoot him. He got hit twice. Once in the forehead and once in the chest.”

  She felt numb. She didn’t hear him right. The world tilted in her vision.

  Is he saying my baby has been shot?

  “This house has cameras and listening devices everywhere. I brought this laptop to prove what I’m saying.”

  “You’re … lying,” she managed to get out.

  “I thought you’d say that. Here’s the proof.”

  Gambino turned the computer around and aimed the screen toward Rosina. He hit the spacebar and the video started. Two men on either side gripped her shoulders to keep her down. She barely noticed them as Darwin came up on the screen. She could see the camera angle was a little off to his left.

  “I chose this camera,” Gambino said. “Because it shows him coming at me from the best angle.”

  She heard the gunfire as the Hernandez family was executed. She saw Darwin’s face in profile as the shock of what he’d just witnessed crossed it. She watched as projectile vomit came out of mouth. It almost hit the guard standing several feet in front of him.

  She didn’t want to watch anymore but they forced her to.

  Darwin jumped from the chair so fast that he almost toppled it. He ran at Gambino who stood near a door at the top of the camera lens. She watched as a man next to Gambino stepped between him and Darwin. She saw and heard the gun’s report.

  What happened next made her so sick she thought her heart would stop.

  Darwin’s head snapped back at an enormous speed. He lifted off his feet and tilted like a seesaw to the cement-tiled deck floor. He slid for a few feet until his forward motion ceased.

  On the screen of the small laptop she saw blood seep from the forehead wound. He didn’t move. His face had grown peaceful.

  Her husband had just been murdered.

  “One last thing to see and we’ll leave you for the night. In the morning you have your cleaning instructions. Follow them to a tee or there’ll be consequences.”

  Gambino fumbled with the computer’s buttons a little and then angled the screen toward her.

  “Watch this on your own or I will have my men force your eyelids open and I guarantee that you don’t want that.”

  The screen showed what looked like a morgue. Pine boxes lay side by side on a table or raised platform of some kind.

  “This video was taken fifteen minutes ago. These are the bodies of the Hernandez family. They are being buried as we speak across the street at the Markville Family Funeral Home. Notice the last coffin in the row.”

  Even though every inch of her body screamed for her to look away, she stared at the screen, mesmerized.

  The camera slowed and then peered into the last pine box. Darwin lay in it, his face at peace, a small trickle of blood still sitting on his forehead.

  A strange thought hit her. He’s being buried in the T-shirt he wore to bed last night. If only we’d known …

  Her body went limp as consciousness, in a merciful gesture, left her.

  Chapter 10

  Carson Dodge passed two media vans and front gate security to enter the safe house grounds and drove up to the front of the building.

  “I told you to take me to the hotel,” Greg said.

  Greg was angry with him, but Carson didn’t care. Nothing mattered more than catching and stopping Darwin Kostas.

  “I need you to walk through the crime scene and talk to me. Help me understand Darwin. It may save his life. If you care anything for the fellow agents who lost their lives here today, and if you care anything for Darwin, you will do this. Then I’ll take you to your hotel.”

  Carson turned off the car and waited in the driver’s seat for an answer. After a moment, Greg got out and slammed the door behind him.

  “Fucking child,” Carson whispered to himself.

  He walked Greg through the crime scene, detailing what they figured had happened. Once he got to the kitchen, Greg stopped and held up a hand.

  “Wait,” he said, examining the layout under the dim lights.

  “What?”

  “Where did Darwin get the knife from again?” Greg asked.

  “That knife set over there,” Carson said and pointed.

  “Where did you find the set?”

  “Toppled on the counter,” Carson said. “Right here.”

  Greg measured the distance. “Explain the injuries on all five victims. As many details as you can.”

  Carson went through the preliminary findings and explained that the autopsies would be performed within the next few days.

  “Interesting that only one agent had bruised knuckles. Tell me, who was on duty at that specific time?”

  “John Simmons, Don Ouellette, and David Baron were the three on duty. Nick Johnson and Lee Michaels were showing up to relieve them.”

  Greg walked over to sit on the chair where Nick Johnson had sat and ate french toast that morning before being knifed to death. “Do you know these two well?”

  “What two?”
Carson asked, agitated. “We’re supposed to be talking about Darwin Kostas.”

  “Humor me.”

  Carson stared at him, looking for an angle, but failed to see one. Then he nodded. Give and fucking take.

  “I knew all five men,” Carson said.