Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “Safe Block. Those people. What’s gonna happen to them?”

  “They’ll be taken care of. Camilla is already making the arrangements.”

  “Then what? ‘Cause that shit is getting worse, not better.”

  “We will begin again. You have my word.”

  “And if you decide to try and rescue your friends and you don’t come back?”

  “We will begin again.”

  Rodriguez looked at Winn, then the others, before settling his eyes back on Winn. Safe Block meant as much to him as it did to the old martial arts instructor. He finally nodded, taking Winn at his word. “Fair enough. Just let me know what you want to do by tonight. Otherwise, it may be too late for your friends. Hell, it may be too late already.”

  22

  Two-Good

  David Two-Good stepped clear of the marble shower and grabbed a towel off the towel rack, quickly wiping himself down. It felt refreshing to wash away the soiled and uncomfortable feeling of long travel. Normally he would have embraced a relaxing level of fatigue washing over him after a long journey, followed by a hot shower, but not this night. Not after the details of his life that Luthecker had shared with him on the airplane. He exited the bathroom and moved into the adjoining bedroom of the small but plush guest room that Parks provided for him.

  Two-Good padded across the stone floor to the king-sized canopy bed where he had laid out his clothes for the evening. Mr. Parks had requested his company for dinner in one of the castle’s many dining rooms, a request that was not out of the ordinary for Mr. Parks, but after Luthecker’s specific revelations regarding the course of events that potentially awaited him, Two-Good felt dizzy, and his stomach danced with nervous anxiety. He went through the motions of the evening’s preparation on autopilot, his body moving along the routine, but his psyche was in complete disarray. How did this young man, whom Two-Good had never met, know the intimate details of his past, and more importantly, how could Luthecker use those secrets to chart Two-Good’s destiny with such confidence? The experience had rattled Two-Good to his core, causing the Native American to question his every move, no matter how insignificant, but to also reexamine countless events from his past. He wanted to decipher how events and choices led to his relationship with Lucas Parks.

  Luthecker’s words had reopened emotional wounds that Two-Good had long ago convinced himself were healed. Two-Good, indeed, had been very close to his mother, having been her favorite, a fact that created considerable jealousy in his younger brother Thomas. The jealousy had become apparent at a very early age, and by the time both boys were in their teens, they were extremely competitive with one another in nearly every facet of life. Often times, this led to attempted resolution via their fists. Usually, David, being the older and bigger brother, at least until they were adults, had the upper hand during these altercations.

  By their late teens, the brothers led separate lives but both drank heavily. David doted more on his mother, while Thomas spent more nights in jail. By the time David was twenty and Thomas was just eighteen, both were adrift with no sense of direction; they were unemployed and hitting the bottle heavy, not unlike their father before them. It was when David met and fell in love with a young woman Thomas’ age, a white woman by the name of Charlotte, that everything began to change for both men.

  When Thomas saw how happy his older brother was, the jealousy that dated back to their mother’s preference for David reared its ugly head with particular intensity; but this time, in Thomas’ mind, the outcome would be different. And that was because this time, Thomas, younger and better looking than his older brother, knew he could catch the flirtatious eye of Charlotte. And he did. And for the first time in his life, Thomas had the upper hand over his older brother.

  It didn’t take long for Thomas to seduce the young woman, and when David found out about the affair, he was devastated. He turned to the same place for solace that his father had before him,: the bottle. And with drunken courage summoned, he confronted his brother.

  It was Thomas’ laughter that had sent David Two-Good over the edge.

  When David questioned his younger brother about his relations with Charlotte, Thomas dismissed David as a meaningless and insignificant moment in the young woman’s life, words that Thomas took great pleasure in shaming his brother with, laughing at David’s inability to satisfy the woman he loved. Enraged, David lashed out at Thomas, hitting him in the temple with his fist and knocking Thomas to the ground with that single blow. When Thomas lay on the ground unmoving, David knew he was in trouble. When he shook his brother’s prone body to no avail and realized what he had done, that he had in fact just killed his younger brother, David panicked. He ran home and hid. He told no one of what happened, and when eventually questioned, concocted an elaborate alibi in regards to his whereabouts on the night of his brother’s death. Considering Thomas’ numerous run-ins with the law and the number of enemies he had accumulated along the way, it surprised no one when the investigation was dropped, and Thomas’ murder officially went unsolved. It was not long after Thomas’ funeral that David joined the army. Intent with leaving his past behind him, he had buried the secret of what he had done to his brother deep inside, never telling a soul, and making an oath to himself that he never would.

  And he had kept that oath. The fact that no one knew, no one could possibly know what had happened that night nearly twenty years ago, is what terrified David Two-Good about Alex Luthecker more than anything else. Coalition Properties was right—this man was extremely dangerous.

  Two-Good caught his hands shaking at the implications and did his best to push the memories of that fateful night from his mind. He tried his best to focus on the immediate task at hand and sorted through the clothes he had laid out on his bed. Two-Good forced his thoughts to the evening ahead and suspected that Mr. Parks would dress more formally for dinner now that he was free from prison. He himself, however, decided that he would dress more casually, selecting a dark blue polo shirt, along with a pair of khakis and simple loafers.

  Two-Good finished his routine by standing in front of the mirror and combing his thick head of jet-black hair. He dug into his toiletry bag and removed a bottle of antacids, taking several of the chalky tablets to help calm his increasingly uneasy stomach. He checked his watch. It was 7:50pm local time, and he had another ten minutes before dinner. He took a deep breath to calm himself before exiting his room and stepping into the hallway.

  “You’re not eating your steak,” Lucas Parks said to David Two-Good. “I had it prepared medium rare, just the way you like it.” Parks looked over at his soldier a moment.

  The small dining hall was an offshoot of the much larger main dining room of his estate house, and as such was more intimate in setting. Still, the large oak table situated inside a chamber that was ostensibly carved out of stone was big enough to seat twelve, the refurbished Ottoman era, heavy-wooden chairs all empty—save for the two at the far corner of the table where Parks and Two-Good sat.

  “I know, sir, it’s just…it was a long flight. My stomach is a bit unsettled still.”

  Parks noticed that Two-Good was sweating. “Are you not feeling well?”

  “I’ll be fine, sir. It’s just the flight.”

  “Good. Because we are here to celebrate our success. We have both Alex Luthecker and Nicole Ellis in our hands. And we are home. In no small part due to your loyal efforts.” Parks held up a glass of wine in toast. He waited for Two-Good to do the same. Two-Good smiled nervously and held up the glass. Parks noticed that Two-Good’s hand trembled, ever so slightly. “Are sure that you are feeling okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Just a little tired.”

  “Have some wine. It will calm your nerves.”

  Parks watched the Native American carefully as he drank from his wine glass. Two-Good made sure to empty the glass, as if not doing so would imply some sort of weakness.

  “What now, sir? Now that we have them?” Two-Good asked, trying to deflect his b
oss’ suspicious eye away from him as he set his empty wine glass back on the table.

  “We dissect the mystery that is Alex Luthecker; and we find out what it is that Coalition Properties finds so valuable in him.”

  “And use it to our advantage.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Parks filled Two-Good’s glass once again.

  Mr. Parks appears to be in a good mood, Two-Good thought, as he watched Parks fill his wine glass. He seemed appreciative of Two-Goods efforts, and the wine was certainly taking the edge off Two-Good’s nervousness. The fact that he was having dinner with Mr. Parks after the long journey was not an unusual event, and this wasn’t the first time he served up the finest Kobe beef steak available, Two-Good’s favorite. Even the wine selection, from the highly regarded vineyards in Croatia, was not a surprise. It was all a ceremony that Two-Good was both familiar and comfortable with. As the night wore on, what Luthecker said to him on the airplane was becoming more general information in his memory, a fading and increasingly less detailed moment that was nothing magical or prescient at all. Two-Good was beginning to believe his routine was easily predictable by anyone with common sense, and the combination of wine and cognitive dissonance allowed Two-Good to convince himself that perhaps he had heard the young man’s words wrong. As he rewrote the narrative of events in his mind, he started to relax. Everything felt very normal. He even allowed himself to smile as Parks raised his own glass of wine in toast once again.

  “In Vino Veritas. In wine, the truth,” Parks said, before he took a generous pull from his wine glass.

  Two-Good sat frozen.

  “Are you sure that you’re okay, David?

  “Just, a bit dizzy, sir…” Two-Good felt faint, and he put a hand on the table to steady himself. Parks had said the exact words Luthecker predicted he would.

  This will be the first sign.

  He felt his heart race, and he began to feel lightheaded, seeing spots in his field of vision. Two-Good had difficulty breathing, and felt as if he would pass out.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me, David?”

  The tone of Parks’ words had their own otherworldly and prescient quality to them, as if he knew already of the conversation that had taken place between Two-Good and Luthecker, and they cut through Two-Good’s consciousness like a knife. Two-Good put both his hands on the table to steady himself before trying to look Lucas Parks in the eye.

  “No, sir.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you allow him to speak?” The tone of the question was suspicious and filled with its own answer, causing Two-Good to hesitate, which in turn confirmed Parks’ suspicions.

  “N-no, sir.”

  “You were specifically instructed not to. You were instructed not to because we don’t know what we are dealing with in him, and if records are correct, he is quite dangerous if allowed inside your head. Remember what happened to the last two men who crossed him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Men far more powerful in their ways than you.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir, what he did to them, and I didn’t let him speak,” Two-Good lied. “I warned him, I told him he’d get the baseball bat if he did.”

  Parks studied Two-Good’s body language. The Native American’s darting eyes and physical mannerisms were not unlike a child caught fibbing about stealing a cookie from a cookie jar.

  “You are not lying to me, are you, David?”

  The tone of the question implied a lifeline, a final opportunity to come clean. But Two-Good knew the offer was false, merely an attempt to confirm what Parks already suspected, because in all of Two-Good’s dealings with Parks, the gun and drug kingpin had never offered anyone a lifeline.

  Parks locked eyes with Two-Good, and Two-Good felt Parks’ piercing gaze burn into his brain. Two-Good felt his face turn hot in response, and he was momentarily speechless. He was about to say something when Parks broke out in a smile.

  “Of course you are not. Finish your meal. If you will excuse me, I have some details I must attend to. Rest well, my friend. We have much to do tomorrow.”

  Two-Good watched as Parks quickly wiped his mouth with his white-silk napkin before abruptly rising from the table and exiting the room.

  Two-Good sat in silence for several seconds, trying to think of what to do next. The words Parks had spoken, the very words Luthecker had predicted he would speak, had caught him off guard. And even more disturbing to Two-Good was that Parks had sensed the energy shift, pouncing on his hesitation as if on predatory instinct, peppering him with questions before he had a chance to organize his thoughts, like a fighter who had stunned his opponent and then seized on the opportunity to pummel him into submission.

  He knows I’m lying, Two-Good admitted to himself. And he would have to somehow correct it. He would have to come clean to Mr. Parks and tell his boss that he and Luthecker did have a conversation and reassure him that it had no impact whatsoever on his loyalty, and if anything, the conversation could provide some useful intelligence on the man they now held captive. Two-Good grabbed his glass of wine and finished it with two quick gulps before he got up from the table. He exited the dining room via the same doorway he had just seen Parks disappear through, which led through the main dining hall. He walked through the large and cavernous chamber, built for kings of an era long past, and stepped through the modern industrial kitchen that serviced the castle. Two-Good passed a series of stainless-steel ovens and food prep tables, along with several cooks dressed in traditional white, busy cleaning up for the evening. They paid Two-Good no mind as he hurried passed them.

  Two-Good stepped into a long hallway that caused him to stop in his tracks. The surprisingly narrow passageway led past several large oak doors with oversized knobs and hinges, before graduating to a tight spiral staircase with dark wood steps leading up. Parks could be behind any of those doors, or he could have gone up the stairs. Two-Good stood there a moment, unsure of his next move.

  “Mr. Parks wishes not to be disturbed,” a voice said from behind Two-Good, a voice with a thick Russian accent.

  Two-Good quickly turned to find a tall man standing behind him, one with chiseled features and a short-cropped military haircut. The man was dressed in a black suit and had a firearm, what looked to be a 9mm, the butt purposefully protruding from underneath his jacket.

  “May I lead you back to your room?”

  Two-Good lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was 3am., he was sick to his stomach, and he had not slept a wink. The moonlight that filtered through the arched window amplified his room in a blue-black palate that altered its dimensions; that, combined with Two-Good’s anxiety, made the space feel larger and less welcoming. It was cool in his room, a combination of the centuries-old stone absorbing the heat and the evening’s lower temperatures, and he considered getting an extra blanket from the antique wooden chest at the end of his bed.

  He would explain everything to Mr. Parks first thing in the morning, he had decided. Luthecker had thrown him for a loop, but that would only serve to prove that the young man was manipulative and dangerous. Mr. Parks was, above all else, a businessman, and Two-Good had always proven a loyal soldier.

  Satisfied with this decision, Two-Good decided to get that extra blanket. He sat up in bed, pushing the covers aside, and that’s when he heard two men conversing in Russian, just outside his window.

  He sat on the side of the bed, unmoving, remembering Luthecker’s words on the airplane. Then, as if in a trance, Two-Good stood up from his bed and stepped toward the window.

  Two-Good’s room was on the second floor of the square-shaped castle, and as he peered out the window, he saw two men standing in the interior courtyard below. Both men wore thick coats, and each had an AK-47 rifle slung over his shoulder. As Two-Good watched them converse, he could see their breath in the chilly nighttime air. He was just about to step away from the window when one of the men, as if sen
sing Two-Good’s eyes on him, turned and looked up at the window. The man locked eyes with Two-Good and smiled.

  Two-Good backed away from the window in horror.

  “That is the second moment you should not dismiss.”

  Luthecker’s haunting premonition, once again, echoed through Two-Good’s mind with stunning clarity, and Two-Good’s life came crashing down on him in the form of high speed imagery—from his father’s abandonment to his mother’s cancer, from his brother’s death to his escape with the army, from his dishonorable discharge to meeting Lucas Parks. It all seemed so inevitable now.

  And it became clear to David Two-Good that Luthecker’s next prediction would also happen: Parks would try to force him to kill the woman, something Two-Good realized he would never be able to do. And as Luthecker had predicted, Parks would kill him for it.

  He dropped to his knees and started sobbing. He was overwhelmed by what he saw of himself, the clarity of what he now believed would be his inevitable fate, the result of so many errant choices for so long, of so many mistakes.

  Two-Good reeled with guilt, and feelings of who he felt he had failed in his life began to overwhelm him—his father first, then his mother, and then his brother. The room started to spin, and he fell forward on his hands. The coldness of the stone registered on his palms, and it awakened in him the realization of what he must do. The only way left (in the short time he had) that could change his fate. The only moment of light possible for him after a lifetime of darkness. He quickly scrambled to his feet and got dressed.

  23

  Decision

  Yaw held his infant daughter Kylie in his arms, still learning to be comfortable with her delicateness, the contrast of a tiny soft-skinned child against his large muscular frame only serving to highlight her fragility. The girl cooed blissfully as Yaw sat on the end of the bed, holding her tiny frame against his forearm, cradling her small head with his fingers while rocking her. His eyes locked on his progeny, incredulous at her existence and unable to help being mesmerized by the little human, not much bigger than his hand. Yaw looked up from his daughter when Camilla entered the room. He watched Camilla sit down next to him.