by Derry Sandy
Voss was still in a bad mood following his loss to Kamara earlier and his response was a stormy silence.
Rohan cut in, “Ok fine, we get it. Tonight, requires a woman’s touch or whatever other sexist colloquialism you are referencing to get your way on this. You were born a long time ago and you haven’t realized that we men have rights too, equal suffrage and what not. If there is trouble, call us immediately. You do know how to use a cell phone right, old timer?”
The soucouyant grinned, “In a witty mood are we, Le Clerc? I have handled more trouble on my own than you will live to see, but I realize that you feel left out. If there is a problem I will call you so that you can assist in cleaning up the mess.”
Kamara stepped up to him before Rohan could say anything. “We will be fine, hun, it’s just a trip to the club, we will be back in a couple hours, and there is nothing to worry about.” She gave him a conciliatory pat on the arm and a peck on the cheek and with that the women filed out the wide front double door.
“At least let us drive you guys there,” Rohan shouted after them.
“Kat is driving,” Lisa replied.
“Driving what? A horse drawn buggy? Doesn’t she have cataracts by now? Arthritis in her wrists or something? She’s a hazard on our nation’s roadways,” Rohan said, trying to get in as many barbs as he could before the door closed behind the women.
Agrippa barked in support for Rohan and ran after his owner. Lisa commanded him to stay and he whined but complied as they left.
“You really should not needle her about her age,” Voss said when the door had closed. “Soucouyant don’t like that, especially those who have had sad lives.”
“She’s bullet proof,” Rohan replied, “Besides how do you know she has had a sad life?”
“She waited for us at the edge of a swamp for years, pretending to age so as not to raise suspicion. Only a tremendous sense of duty could trigger that sort of devotion in one so powerful. She owes someone a deep debt.”
Rohan was thoughtful for a while. “Duly noted.”
“So, are we going to sit here waiting for them to return like good househusbands or is there something else we can do?”
“I requested a list of names from the Guild, potential suspects for the man we are looking for that they have not emailed yet. I would also like them to look at Tarik. We should pay them a visit while the women club it up.”
“This early?”
“Early? It is almost midnight.”
“Exactly, the moon is strong tonight. Maybe we should wait for it to set before going there. You know the moon strengthens the occult.”
“You don’t trust your own handlers now, Voss?”
“My right hand does even trust my left hand.”
“Must make it difficult for you to wash yourself,” Rohan smiled. “Let’s just drive by and see how the situation develops.”
“I’m coming.” This from Tarik who had appeared from somewhere balancing a plate heaped with food in one hand.
“Of course, you are. Let’s make it a guys’ night out,” Rohan said. Voss muttered something about children eating too much well past their bedtimes.
The group of men dispersed with an agreement to reconvene in ten minutes for their midnight drive.
***
Lisa felt good. The clothes Kat had picked out fit perfectly and were of a style she would have selected for herself. Even the shoes fit. She wanted to ask Kat how she had made such great choices but somehow she knew she would not get a straight answer. Instead, as Kat drove, they talked about what to expect when they got to the Kings and Commoners. Kat’s instructions had been that Lisa and Kamara should just follow her lead. If they saw anything strange they were not to gawk, stare, or comment. They were to act as if they belonged at the Club.
Most importantly, if she told them to run, they should run immediately. Lisa was not sure how she was supposed to run in six-inch heels, but she would try. Kat had also shown them the locations of five well-maintained weapons stashed in the SUV in various secret compartments that would withstand any level of scrutiny short of tearing the car apart completely. The weapons included a Remington 870 tactical shotgun with a pistol grip and a fully automatic HK G36C. Kamara had not seemed surprised when the woman revealed the weapons, but Lisa had believed Kat’s speech about the non-necessity of guns.
“I thought we didn’t need guns?” she asked.
“We can’t be armed in the club,” Kat replied, “but it always pays to be prepared.”
Kat parked. They exited the car and went directly to the front of the long line that snaked around the corner of the multi-storied building that housed the night club. Kat whispered something to the large bouncer in a too-small shirt and they were ushered into the club. The three women were immediately enveloped in a cloud of smoke from a fog maker. Swirling, colored lights were reflected and refracted by the smoke in a dazzling display. The smell of expensive liquor mixed with the sharp scent of a plethora of perfumes and colognes, the smell of sweat, and pent up lust. The thumping bass combined with the noise of the reveling throng was disorienting. Lisa felt like she had been tossed into a tumble dryer with a box of exploding firecrackers. It took her a moment to adjust.
The bouncer led the way through the crowd to a door in the back wall guarded by two equally oversized men. Kat held up her hand and showed them the ring she wore. The bouncer allowed her to insert the ringed finger into a round hole in the door where the keyhole should have been. There was a click and the bouncer pushed the door open and held it while the three women filed in. He shut it behind them.
The noise died when the door closed. They stood in a short dark hallway which opened into a vaulted main room. Lisa guessed they were now in the Kings section of the Kings and Commoners. On one side of the richly-appointed room was a bar that occupied the entire length of the wall and was staffed by six bartenders. A rack holding drinks extended two stories tall to the ceiling, and full access to the shelves required track rolling ladders like those Lisa had seen in large libraries. She imagined they must have every type of rum, liqueur, vodka, whiskey, and tequila ever distilled. One of the bartenders opened a door in the side wall of the bar and Lisa caught a glimpse of refrigerated beverages shedding frost. She was suddenly very thirsty.
The rest of the room was set up like a restaurant. The walls were lined with booths that seated up to six persons. In the center of the room, a team of chefs prepared gourmet meals in a roofless glass box that reduced the kitchen noises to a hush. The wooden floor was polished to a warm sheen, and indirect lighting created a dim ambiance conducive to the birth of schemes and plots.
Attractive waiters glided silently from booth to booth ensuring that no crystal glass remained empty. Lisa heard the murmur of conversation mingled with the muted hum of vintage calypso music wafting from craftily-placed speakers.
The trio were ushered to a booth and seated. Lisa tried to mimic Kat’s cool detached demeanor, although, sitting across from a soucouyant in an exclusive night club, she felt completely out of her depth. She had been born in Port-of-Spain General Hospital and had grown up and gone to school, as a child and as a teenager in Belmont, walking distance from her home. Her parents had been, and still were, very protective of her. Her most rebellious act before discovering her psychic ability had been double-piercing both ears as a secondary school student. Now, although she had never even been on an international flight, she had somehow managed to travel the Astral plane and had made snap decisions in high-staked situations. Her parents would be horrified.
They each ordered a drink which arrived almost instantaneously. Kat whispered into the waiter’s ear and he nodded. They sat in silence nursing their liquor until a large man in a dark, well-tailored suit came to their table and politely asked that they follow him. The women rose, abandoning their beverages to create little pools of condensation on the teak tabletop.
They were led into a gold elevator upholstered in red leather. The man swiped a securit
y card, pressed the button for the third floor, then exited with a nod, leaving the women in the elevator. Lisa thought, Three women on the third floor. Maybe that was a good sign.
On arrival at the third floor, the elevator door opened behind the women which caught everyone but Kat by surprise. Apparently the size of the guards increased proportionally with the floor they secured because the man who opened the elevator door was not only tall, but so muscular that his arms at rest could not lay flat against his body.
He led them wordlessly down a hall to a tall door. He knocked once and the door opened to reveal a room furnished in leather and wood. A massive fish tank occupied the entire back wall. Several meal-sized fish swam lazily about the tank. A large, dark desk dominated the middle of the room and behind the desk sat a middle-aged Indian man. His features were sharp and clean and his hair was slicked back. He wore a charcoal business suit with a wine-colored shirt. Although the two uppermost buttons of his shirt were undone, its French cuffed sleeves were clasped together by sterling silver and amber cufflinks monogrammed with the letters ‘CD’. He sat forward, his fingers interlaced in front of him, his keen, deep-set eyes missing nothing.
There were two other occupants in the room. One, a large ebony man stood in a corner studying the women. The muscles of his chest tested the seams of his black suit-vest every time he inhaled. The other man was a tall, lean, Caucasian man with colorless eyes who sat in a leather chair off to one side, flipping through a magazine, but observing every move the women made.
Bodyguards, Lisa thought.
“Please sit.” The man behind the desk gestured to a leather couch off to the right of the desk. He then rose, came around the desk, and propped himself on the front edge. “My name is Cassan Davilmar. How may I be of service?”
“We would be best served if you stopped lying. You are not Cassan,” Kat said flatly. “You fit the description, but you are not him.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows, initially surprised by Kat’s bold accusation but then she remembered that Kat seemed to be able to discern truth from lies.
The man seemed taken aback. The pale-eyed bodyguard started to rise, but Cassan motioned him to sit back down.
“I’m Cassan. If you do not believe that well then you can leave.”
“You’re in his office and you are wearing his clothes,” Kat said pointing to the monogrammed cuff. “But you are not him, which leads me to believe that something bad has happened to him and you are trying to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps I can offer some assistance in locating him. But if you value maintaining your ruse above finding Cassan then our business here is over.” Kat rose to leave and the other women followed suit.
As the women headed for the door, Cassan’s imposter and the pale-eyed bodyguard shared a hushed but animated conversation.
“Stop. Hey, hold on, stop. You are very perceptive. I’m Dr. Uriah Davilmar, Cassan’s older brother, and you are right. Cassan has disappeared.” Uriah dropped the contrived Trinidadian accent and now spoke with a London accent as he firmly shook each of the women’s hands in turn.
“Cassan vanished and you feel safe masquerading as him?” Kamara asked when Uriah took her hand.
“Well, we look a lot alike, and impersonating him has been a good way to meet the people who come to his office. One of them may be able to give a clue to his location.” Uriah returned to his seat behind the desk. “Cassan also made me promise that I would oversee the business if something was to happen to him, at least until an orderly transition could be arranged.” He turned to Kat. “How did you know that I was not him?”
“Well you do look a lot like him, almost identical. But I have a talent for sniffing out lies,” Kat replied. “Also, I met Cassan once some time ago, and, while our meeting was brief, the circumstances were unforgettable. He would have known who I was when I entered.”
That Kat knew Cassan should not have shocked Lisa. Kat’s membership at the Kings and Commoners was the reason they had made it into the office in the first place. Lisa felt silly for not having put two and two together earlier.
“Cassan’s clients are not the type of people who make house calls so when you ladies showed up and asked for him I took the risk of seeing you personally. You said you might be able to assist in finding him?”
“Perhaps. You said you are a doctor?”
“Yes, a psychiatrist.” The man relaxed, his shoulders rounding as he adopted his own persona. “Three days ago, Mr. Wrise calls.” Uriah gestured to the Caucasian bodyguard, “and tells me that Cassan had been abducted and that I should fly here from London as soon as possible, pursuant to my promise to run the business should anything happen. So I came and since then I have been trying to find him,” Uriah said.
“Why would Mr. Wrise call you instead of the police?” Lisa asked.
Uriah choked on a laugh. “Well, in the first place, the nature of Cassan’s business does not lend itself to legal channels of recourse if something goes wrong. Secondly the circumstances of his disappearance are beyond strange, not the sort of thing our police force would or could deal with. Thirdly, Wrise was following Cassan’s clear instructions. I just want to find my brother and return to my practice in London.”
“Beyond strange disappearance?” Kat echoed, raising a well-manicured eyebrow.
“Perhaps it is best that Mr. Wrise explain as he was on scene when the Cassan was taken.”
“Uriah, we do not know these women. You have already told them too much.” Wrise spoke in a quiet, even tone that still managed to contain an air of threat. Lisa suspected he never raised his voice.
Uriah considered Wrise’s words. “How do you know Cassan?” he asked looking at Kat.
“I needed certain rare ingredients for spell. Cassan had them.” Kat replied, divulging just enough information to signal to Uriah that she was not a neophyte to the occult.
Uriah contemplated her response in silence. “Mr. Wrise, I know your loyalty is to Cassan and to the business, but these women are the best lead we have had so far. The sooner we get Cassan back, the sooner I can get out of your hair. So kindly share with these women the circumstances of my brother’s disappearance.”
Wrise’s pale eyes narrowed then he shrugged his shoulders in acquiescence. He reached for a remote control on a small table next to his leather chair, pointed to the ceiling, and clicked a button. A large flat panel monitor descended. Wrise pressed on the remote again and a video began to play.
The video appeared to be from a warehouse security camera feed, and, while the video was in color, there was no sound. Five men stood around a wooden crate about the size of a mini-fridge. One of the men was Wrise. The other recognizable person in the video was a man who looked a lot like Uriah, but who had a younger more rakish cast to his face and a haughty look to the eye. Lisa assumed this was Cassan. Two other men were prying open the lid of the wooden crate with crowbars, while the fifth man stood a couple feet back, armed with an AK-47 rifle that he trained unwaveringly on the box.
Though the video had no sound, Lisa imagined she could hear the men’s hearts pounding. Their postures radiated tension. The lid of the wooden crate was finally pried off and the four side panels of the container fell sideways to the floor to reveal a solid black cube about three-feet tall. One of the men knocked his crowbar against the black box then put his ear to it, listening. He turned and his mouth moved as he began saying something to Cassan but he never finished. A pale arm shot out through the side of the box and clawed across the man’s throat. The injured man’s hands clutched his neck in a vain attempt to stanch the arterial spray but a crimson pool had already started spreading on the floor.
Wrise’s lips mouthed a curse and he drew a gun from a shoulder holster. By this time another arm had emerged from the box. The side of the box buckled and flexed outward as if it was made of cold molasses as the creature inside hauled itself out.
A head emerged, eyeless and nose-less with a mouth that was a wide thin slash. That mouth was armed wit
h rows of small hooked teeth. The creature emerged from the box slowly as if the box was resisting its egress. AK-47 man opened fire and Wrise started shooting a second later. They were both good shots and most of the bullets pulverized the thing’s face. The creature, however, was not perturbed by the well-placed fusillade. It hauled the rest of its body through the box and paused for a moment on all fours.
It was curiously shaped, like a bony man but with pale almost-translucent skin. Its knees bent in the wrong direction and its elbows had two joints. The macabre nature of the creature and the silence of the video made the whole scene surreal. The man with the crowbar hit it across its ruined face and in response, it disemboweled him with a claw.
AK-47 man reloaded. Wrise reloaded. Both opened fire again. The man with the machine gun walked toward the thing as he fired in bursts grouping his shots closely, the gunmanship of someone who was well-trained. The creature ate the punishment. It was still on all fours as if escaping the box had exhausted it. AK-47 man emptied his clip and was reaching for a side arm when the creature rose with the speed of a lagahoo, grabbed the man, and bit him in the face removing his lower jaw completely. The man fell to the floor bleeding and clutching his face.
The creature was upright now and it approached Cassan, ignoring Wrise completely. Cassan made no move to run. Wrise however began to move between the monstrosity and his employer. Cassan held up a hand staying Wrise, then he held up a hand to the creature and his mouth began to move as if he was speaking. The creature’s approach slowed and its movements became more laborious as if the atmosphere around it had congealed into something thicker than air. Cassan’s mouth continued to move and the creature took a forced step back toward the box.
Then Cassan and the creature seemed to reach some sort of equilibrium. The creature could make no forward progress, but Cassan could force it no closer to the box. Wrise brought his gun up and pulled the trigger hitting the creature in its pale bony chest. Its focus switched to its attacker and it moved toward Wrise like a train. Cassan’s invisible bonds apparently only applied when he had the creature’s attention. Cassan’s mouth moved in a shout. The creature switched directions and was upon Cassan before he could raise a new defense. It grabbed him by the throat and dragged him towards the box. Before Wrise could move, it plunged into the viscous surface of the box with Cassan in tow. Wrise tried to follow them but slammed into the box, its surface having apparently become solid once more.
