by Skye Knizley
The trio approached his seat and he stood. He could see the bulges beneath the men’s jackets indicating they were packing weapons and even the woman’s jacket, tailored though it was, had a slight bulge just above the waist.
Levac reached for a chocolate bar and used the movement to unsnap his 10MM Sig Sauer from its holster. With his partner’s history with the Riscassi family it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Mr. Levac?” one of the men asked.
“Detective, yes,” Levac said. “This isn’t a social call.”
“You have a lot of nerve coming here, detective,” the woman said. “I understand you played a role in the death of Ms. Riscassi and her partner.”
Levac shook his head. “Not at all, ma’am. In fact my partner and I were trying to rescue them from the building. Their own associate, Mr. Tempeste was in fact responsible and he was in turn killed by Detective Storm. I am truly sorry for your loss, but as I said, this is not a social call. May I speak with Mr. Riscassi, please?”
The woman pursed her lips. “That is why I am here, Mr. Levac. These men will escort you to see Mr. Riscassi. Bruno, if you would?”
Bruno made a ‘right this way,’ gesture toward the elevator. Levac smiled at the woman.
“I didn’t catch your name, Miss?”
“It hardly matters, Mr. Levac, this will be our only meeting. If you insist you may call me Ms. Jensen.”
“Of course, Miss Jensen,” Levac said.
“Ms. Jensen,” she repeated.
Levac smiled. “Exactly.”
He turned away and followed the second man, whose name he remembered as Joey Gallo, to the elevator. He stepped in beside him to make room for Bruno, who ducked beneath the door and pressed a button on the console.
“Ms. Jensen isn’t coming with us?” Levac asked.
“She has other business,” Gallo said.
“Of course.”
The doors closed and the elevator began to move. Both of the larger men were quiet, so quiet he could hear their breathing in the confines of the car. Levac noticed sweat beading on Gallo’s forehead and glanced at Bruno who reached up and loosened his tie.
“Any time you’re ready, gentlemen,” Levac said.
Bruno looked at Gallo, who shrugged and reached for the pistol beneath his jacket. Levac grabbed his wrist and held it in place while lashing out with his foot at Bruno’s knee. Bruno staggered and Levac drew his own pistol. He leveled it at Gallo’s eye and shook his head.
“Stupid move, guys,” he said.
He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his handcuffs.
“Cuff yourselves to the railing, if you please.”
The men complied without a word and Bruno leaned heavily against the wall. Levac could see the man’s knee was dislocated and he clucked his teeth.
“I apologize, Bruno,” he said. “I think my partner is rubbing off on me, I normally just ask questions. What floor is Mr. Riscassi on?”
“Twenty-three,” Bruno replied through gritted teeth.
“Which explains why we were going to the twenty-fifth. How many men are waiting for me up there?”
Neither man responded.
“Look, I know this was an attempt at murder as well as you do,” Levac said. “I’m willing to let it go this time, but you have to meet me half way. How many men?”
“A dozen. The boss thought you might be a handful,” Gallo said.
Levac whistled. “I’m flattered. Well, I’m going to the twenty-third. I suggest you tell your friends upstairs I was terrified by your frightening demeanor and fled to the tenth. If they come after me, I’m coming back for you and you’ll rot away in Tamms Maximum for the next thirty years. Attacking a cop is a serious offense.”
He pressed the ‘twenty-three’ button and whistled to himself, his pistol leveled at the two men across from him. The elevator stopped a moment later and he smiled at the puzzled-looking receptionist on the other side.
“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry, I had a little trouble with my escort.”
He waved goodbye to the two men and stepped out of the elevator. Once the doors closed, he holstered his weapon and turned back to the receptionist, who was a young woman with a brown bob hairstyle and very green eyes.
“Where can I find Mr. Riscassi, please?” Levac asked.
The woman blinked and came back to herself. “Is he expecting you?”
Levac glanced back at the elevator. “What do you think?”
“Of course, my apologies. He’s in his office,” she said.
“I appreciate your cooperation.”
Levac smiled again and turned toward the left-hand door. It opened easily and he stepped through into the office.
It hadn’t changed much since Maria Riscassi had been the occupant. The potted plants and antique paintings were gone to be replaced with more modern prints from around the city and a statue of St. Raphael, but the antique bookcases and desk were just as he remembered them. All were made from heavy Italian wood stained dark as night, highlighted with red velvet trim.
A man of perhaps thirty sat behind the desk. He was dressed in a grey Brooks Brothers suit cut to hide his bulk matched with a blue shirt and grey tie. A cigar smoldered in a tray on his desk and he had his feet up on a side-table. He held the morning news in his hands and seemed engrossed in an article about winter fishing.
“Good morning, Detective Levac,” he said without looking up.
Levac closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Riscassi. “Good morning, Mr. Riscassi. I’d like to ask you a few questions—”
“About the men who were killed last night,” Riscassi finished.
He turned to look at Levac. “I won’t blow smoke, detective. I don’t like being near you and want you out of here as fast as possible. So, yes, they were my men. No I don’t know who killed them, but I have my boys out there looking. I believe it to be the Russians who are moving further into Chicago every day. Please don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Riscassi. But you haven’t answered my questions,” Levac said. “Why were they there in the first place?”
Riscassi frowned. “They have some kind of weekly get together there. It has nothing to do with me.”
Levac nodded. “Of course, and it has nothing to do with proximity to Old Town and the recent increase in Thirst, Zombie or Kraken in the city, either?”
“I don’t deal in drugs, Levac.”
Levac made a note on his pad. “Thank you for clearing that up. What about a redhead? A tall one with green eyes. Do you have anyone like that on your payroll?”
“I have a couple’a green eyed women on my staff,” Riscassi replied. “But it sounds like your partner to me. Why don’t you ask her?”
“She’s on sabbatical out of town,” Levac said. “This woman was seen last night. Are you sure you don’t know her?”
Riscassi picked up his cigar and sucked on it until the tip was an inferno. He blew a long stream of smoke from his nose and shook his head. “No, detective. I don’t.”
Levac waved away the smoke. “Thank you.”
He stood and turned toward the door. “One more thing, Mr. Riscassi.”
“What now?”
“Whoever did this knew your men were there and used a classic assassination method,” Levac said. “They’re sending you a message. If you figure out for sure who mailed it, give me a call.”
Levac continued out of the office and to the elevator. A few minutes later he was outside leaning against his Nash and enjoying the fresh air. While he was waiting, he checked his messages. There was a text from Raven that she was on her way to Boston and a message from Ming Zhu that he had something.
Levac sent a quick reply to Raven reminding her about Halloween and pocketed his phone. He hadn’t been to the morgue without Raven before. This could be weird. Well, weirder. Things were already weird.
CHICAGO CITY MORGUE
THE MORGUE WAS HOUSED IN a building tha
t had once been one of the city's slaughterhouses. As such it was located near the old Meat Packing District and looked like the demon love child of a warehouse and the house from Amityville. Levac parked behind the building and glanced at the sign Raven had always hated. Someone had repainted it and scrawled “LeStorm Lives” over the No Parking letters.
Levac shook his head and passed through the back doors. A few moments later he was gnawing on a jerky strip from his pocket and watching Dr. Zhu peel back the skin around the wound in one of last night’s victims back. As always Zhu was immaculate in a light-colored suit, his black hair slicked back behind his ears. His mask and smock were covered with blood but somehow his suit was pristine. Levac had always assumed the doc kept a bunch of identical suits in the back, just in case. Maybe he himself should keep white shirts in the trunk of his car and just change throughout the day.
But then he’d have twenty shirts to wash on Saturday and Sloan would kill him.
“You aren’t supposed to be eating in here, Rupert,” Zhu said when he was finished. “Finish that and come look.”
Levac swallowed the bite of petrified meat and looked at the wound Zhu was holding open with two fingers. The lower levels of the dermal layer were hardened just like the surface.
“A burn?” Levac asked.
“Indeed,” Zhu said. “Hot enough to burn all the way to the hip bone.”
“Did it happen before or after death?”
Zhu rubbed at his lip through his mask, leaving a smear of blood. “I would have to say after due to the lack of blood in the area. But only a few minutes after. Certainly within the time frame of the murders.”
Levac had to keep himself from grabbing another chocolate bar. “Do you have any idea what was used to make the burns? I mean, what was the point?”
“I do. Come back to my office,” Zhu said.
Zhu tossed his gloves into a can marked ‘Destroy Only’ then added his smock and mask to the laundry before leading the way back down the corridor to his office which was near the back stairs. Levac followed and took a seat in one of the comfortable-looking chairs. Looking was the operative word. The stuffing was as hard as an old log and the Naugahyde creaked with every motion of his body.
Zhu picked up a piece of paper and held it out. “My daughter drew this from my notes this morning.”
Levac turned the paper around. On it was a depiction of a stylized skull with dark eye-sockets and an angular jaw, almost Aztec in design.
“That was burned into the bodies,” Zhu said. “High temperature, something like a branding iron only smoother and hotter.”
“How much hotter?”
“Two, maybe three hundred degrees,” Zhu said. “I can’t say for certain, but I believe this was a flash burn. It’s the only way to explain the deep tissue damage.”
Levac folded the piece of paper and slid it into his inside pocket. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the vics?”
“I can tell you what weapon was used,” Zhu said, “and that you’re looking for at least three people. There are three distinct cuts used in the killings.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense, doc.”
Zhu chuckled and pushed paper around his cluttered desk. “It’s the only excitement I get in my day, Rupert. But I will spare you. You are looking for a leaf-bladed knife perhaps five or five and a half inches in length. One side is finely serrated, like tiny shark teeth. More correctly you are looking for three almost identical blades.”
“Throwing knives, then,” Levac said. “Odd choice.”
Zhu shook his head. “No. No, not throwing knives. This was something broader, almost three inches at the broadest and the curvature was too great to have been a traditional throwing knife.”
Levac drew a wide-bladed knife in his notepad and glared at it.
“That shouldn’t be hard to identify. Which means I won’t be able to find it anywhere, it will be too rare.”
Zhu smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. “Exactly. I already checked the catalogues of major players like Cold Steel and SOG and found nothing. You’re looking for a needle in a haystack, my friend.”
“It isn’t the first time,” Levac said. “Thanks, doc.”
He stood and turned for the door.
“Rupert, be careful,” Zhu said. “I have a strange feeling about this.”
Levac looked at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, me too.”
He let go of the door frame and hurried up the stairs. He only knew of one person who might know what the strange symbol meant, if she would even help him. Raven hadn’t exactly been kind the last time they’d needed her help.
MARIE’S CURIOSITIES
OLD TOWN, CHICAGO
LEVAC PARKED HIS OLD NASH around the corner from the heart of Old Town and walked the three blocks to Marie’s Curiosities. The tall Victorian store front had been painted over the summer, but somehow it looked as nondescript as ever with its brown walls, wide plate-glass window that showed nothing but a beaded curtain and red lettering proclaiming ‘Curiosities and Fortunes.’
Levac knocked on the door and waited. Even at half-past noon Old Town was dead, with only Isle of Night and the Olde Curiosity Shoppe being open. A handful of tourists were reading the menu outside Isle, otherwise the courtyard was lonely and deserted. The district didn’t really come alive until dusk. Because that’s when the monsters came out.
Marie opened the door a moment later and smiled. She was still in her red-patterned nightgown and wore her long dreadlocks up in what looked like a red terrycloth towel.
“Rupert, it has been too long, my friend,” she said, her Haitian accent tinged with sleep. “You call at an early hour.”
Levac smiled. If he’d had a hat, he would have been twisting it in his hands. “I’m sorry to wake you, Marie. I need a little help on an investigation if you have a moment.”
“Of course,” Marie replied.
She opened the door further. Levac stepped past into the gloom of the store. Marie’s crow squawked irritably which was nothing new and the store smelled of the odd mixture of cinnamon and chicken blood; Marie must have been telling fortunes during the night.
He took a seat at the long counter full of bone rattles, cheap gris-gris bags and rum from around the Caribbean and pulled Zhu’s drawing from his pocket.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked, offering it to Marie.
Marie took the paper and smoothed it on the glass. She traced the lines with one fingernail and Levac heard the sharp intake of breath.
“I do indeed know this,” she said. “This symbol is very old. Where did you get it?”
“It was burned into seven murder victims on a case I’m working,” Levac replied. “It’s a weird one.”
Marie smiled and patted his hand. “I hear the hint in your voice, Rupert. I miss her as well, but she will return to us. You say this was burned into a man? At the small of his back, yes?”
“How did you know that?”
“As I said, I have seen it before,” Marie said.
She stood and rummaged in an old wooden box on the shelf behind her. After a moment she pulled out a medallion made of gold and encrusted with rubies. She dangled it on a chain in front of Levac, but when he reached for it she moved it away.
“Look, but do not touch,” she said. “The magik of this medallion may harm you.”
Levac leaned closer. It was a circular disc about two inches across with concentric rings of symbols around the center. In the center was a stylized skull very similar to the one burned into the victims.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A gold medallion from ancient Oxkintok,” Marie said. “It is thousands of years old.”
“I can’t say I’m familiar with that name.”
“It was part of early Maya, lost centuries ago. Only a few of these medallions remain to tell of the dark magiks unleashed there, magik that nearly destroyed the city,” Marie said. “If this symbol is being used, be very
cautious.”
“Could someone be just using the symbol?” Levac asked. “It looks like something out of a pirate movie.”
Marie put the medallion back in the box and closed the lid. “It is of course a possibility. If you were drawn to the case, however, I find it unlikely. You, my friend, do not get normal cases.”
“I figured. So I’m looking for three to five ancient Mayans with knives and magik. Fantastic.”
Marie took a small gris-gris bag from the shelf and placed it in front of Levac. “Take this. It will provide a modicum of protection should they be wielding the dark power I fear.”
Levac looked at it as if it might bite him. “Last time I saw one of these it was attached to a psychopath who blew up his victims from the inside.”
Marie laughed and picked up the bag. “It is nothing but herbs and protective stones to ward off evil magik. Put it in your pocket with the chocolate and forget about it.”
Levac took it and did as she asked, shoving it beneath the wadded up wrappers. “Thank you. I hope I won’t need it, magik is Aspen’s deal.”
“As do I,” Marie said.
Levac slid off his stool and walked toward the door.
“Rupert, do you think you should tell Raven?”
“She’ll be here in a few days,” Levac said. “I can hold the fort until then.”
He stepped back into the cool afternoon air and shoved his hands into his pockets. After some rummaging, he sighed. He’d eaten all his chocolate and the hard candies Sloan had bought him. But he needed to think.
He pulled a ketchup packet from his pocket and bit into the end. It wasn’t chocolate, but it would have to do.
Sucking on the tangy goo, he turned away from his Nash and walked deeper into Old Town.
WASHINGTON ST.
BONSTON, MA. 11:00 P.M.
IT HAD TAKEN RAVEN FORTY minutes to get Kole calm enough she could shift back to human. Once she had, she collapsed into a panting heap and Raven carried her out to the car. She put the smaller woman in the passenger seat then returned to where the patrolman was just regaining consciousness.
