“The love of my life,” Mark supplied. He had an idea where Lisa was going with this.
“Yes,” she said. “So…I believe I have some small understanding of how you feel. They killed your love; they tried to kill mine. We won’t rest until this is resolved.”
Ragnhild showed the ghost of a smile.
“I know who you are, Ms. Woods. I’ve seen Katie Kim’s interviews. At this point, if my half-brother is in fact the source of my sorrow, I would be quite satisfied to have him spend his last hours in your hands. I’m sure you would deal with him in an appropriate manner.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Nilsson,” Mark reminded her, “it seems most unlikely that any of the perpetrators of this outrage will come here and sign contracts to be terminated. Most likely we’ll have to have LifeEnders settle the score for us.”
“That’s interesting.” Lisa studied the report on the screen. “Looks like we may have found the missing piece of the puzzle here.”
“The Ten Percenters,” Mark agreed. “If Johansen succeeds in eliminating Thor and Ragnhild, he gets control, but their holdings quadruple in value, as well.”
“More importantly,” she pointed out, “he didn’t have the resources to get it done by himself, so he got help from these people. We can’t say for sure that all of them were in bed with him, but this guy Kerensky is definitely a missing link.”
“Yup! His contact with the Samboks.”
NorthStar had given them the names of the five people who held the remaining ten percent of Mjolnir’s stock. Four of them were people who’d provided services or financial backing to Thor Nilsson when he’d first formed the company. The fifth was the granddaughter of another early investor, since deceased. The ‘Ten Percenters,’ as Mark called them, were subject to the same stock inheritance restrictions as the Nilssons. All of them had gotten very wealthy due to their holdings in Mjolnir, but none were actively involved in the corporation’s affairs.
“In fact…” Mark studied the report again, “he’s the only one with a definite link.”
Leonide Kerensky was the chairman of Edge Urban Development Foundation, which was the primary funding source for the Samboks—or at least the most significant one that was out in the open. The gang was reportedly into drugs, prostitution, and a variety of less visible activities. For those, Edge was probably also involved as a money-laundering operation.
“We might suspect that he’s really the guy behind all this,” Mark noted, “if it weren’t for the fact that Tyler Johansen ‘donated’ the better part of a million dollars to Edge less than two months ago.”
“Which itself might only prove that he’s a charitable soul,” Lisa snorted, “except that almost all of the other donors to Edge are local merchants and residents of Sambok turf who would prefer to remain alive and not have their businesses trashed. It’s a huge shakedown operation.”
“One other questionable Ten Percenter—Eustace Willard,” she added. “His company makes drones. I mean, it’s pretty tenuous, but…”
“Too thin, I’m afraid, unless the FAA determines that our drone came right from his factory. That’s not likely. He may have supplied some of the parts and schooled the Samboks on the technology, but it looks like they got the C4 and put the package together themselves. They’ve used the stuff to settle differences in the past.”
“So even if he did supply them, we can’t say for sure he knew how they were going to use it. OK.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched, causing him to temporarily lose his train of thought. “Have we got enough to proceed?”
“Ummm…yeah, I think so. Northstar did a hell of a job in a short time. Amazing what kind of information is out there…especially when you don’t have to worry about silly little things like firewalls or encryption.”
He knew enough about such things to be certain that not all the security company’s methods were strictly above board. The sources they cited—including bank records, government databases, and public agency files—told Mark there was some very sophisticated hacking involved.
NorthStar got away with it because they kept a low profile. They didn’t steal the personal data of a hundred thousand customers from some credit agency…but they could find out anything you wanted to know about a single individual, and they were really good at following information trails from one place or individual to another.
“I think it’s time to call LifeEnders,” he told her with a grim smile.
“You sure did your homework on this one,” Jay Morgan told him. “And ours as well. We developed a file on the Samboks, but this fills in some blanks.”
“I’ll want to take them out, of course.” Mark shrugged. “They’re the ones who tried to hit me, but that’s a tall order—NorthStar identified over a hundred current members of the gang. So, Marine…I was always the guy up on point with a K-bar in his teeth. You were the guy with the map who figured out the tactics. What would you do in my place?”
“We have an interest in this as well,” Morgan replied. “Our plan would be to hit them at the top—maybe take out the two highest levels of the organization—maybe five people. But we need to send a message as well. Our file has enough detail on them to do that.”
“We’ve identified the gang’s geek—the dronemaster. We’ve also identified the guy who’s their primary bomb-maker and procurer of C4. Those two will have to go as well. That should take care of everybody who was involved in the hits on you and the Nilssons.”
“By the way,” he added, “all of the foregoing will be freebies. We don’t mind them whacking pimps on the street corner, but we get upset when they start killing people at our market level. And we definitely don’t want them playing with drones and bombs. Besides, we get really upset when they try to hit people on our No-Hit list.”
“Fine,” Mark agreed. “I’ve decided to leave the intermediaries alone for now, since I don’t know the extent of their involvement. That leaves just one hit I’ll have to pay for…and that will send a message to any of the others who might have been involved.”
“You know, the Samboks are pretty much a family operation—multiple families of the original North Koreans,” Morgan warned. “We can expect that the survivors may be a little upset when we whack their patriarchs, but hopefully they’ll get the message.”
“Actually, I’m seeing three messages here,” Mark said with a grin. “Don’t Fuck with the Nilssons, Don’t Fuck with the Ferry, and sure as hell Don’t Fuck with LifeEnders…”
“A shocking series of execution-style killings in central Los Angeles last night—seven people gunned down by LifeEnders operatives in what authorities have described as a ‘military-style operation.’ The victims were alleged to be members of a gang of Korean immigrants known as the Samboks, and all seven of them were shot to death within the span of ten minutes. Five of them were killed in or near their homes, while two others were killed in a warehouse that allegedly served as the gang’s base of operations.
“As usual, LifeEnders has no comment on the killings, but LAPD has confirmed that these were legitimate LifeEnders hits and will not be subject to further investigation. The victims were identified as…”
Mark turned away from the screen and looked at Lisa.
“And with Pak Song Yi, that makes eight,” she said. “Like you said, Don’t Fuck with the Ferry. Hmmm…maybe that should be our corporate motto.”
“It was a busy night for LifeEnders, with yet another execution in Beverly Hills less than an hour after the Los Angeles hits…”
Mark turned back to the screen as the news anchor went on in a somber voice.
“Investment banker Tyler Johansen was shot to death by a LifeEnders operative as he emerged from his limousine to attend a charity event at the Beverly Hilton. Johansen has been linked to the family of billionaire industrialist Thor Nilsson, whose estate was the scene of a bombing last week that caused the death of a security guard. Our investigative team is trying to determine whether there is a link between the two eve
nts. LifeEnders has denied any connection with the bombing, but again, Beverly Hills PD has confirmed that Johansen’s death was a LifeEnders hit. We will update the story as more details become available…”
“You know Ragnhild called me this morning,” Lisa said. “I was kind of surprised—she called me direct, didn’t ask for you.”
“I think she likes you,” Mark said. “Maybe she senses a kindred spirit or something.”
“Maybe…or maybe there are just some things a woman would rather talk about with another woman. Anyway, we talked for about 20 minutes…but the bottom line is, she says thanks. She already had the details about Johansen, but she wasn’t thanking us for that—not directly, anyway. She thanked us for giving her a few more months with her father.”
“Another satisfied Ferry customer,” Mark replied with a chuckle. “We aim to please…even the ones who survive our services.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dragons
“I can’t let them take me!” The man was literally shaking with fear. “After what they did to Willard…he must have taken days to die. You can’t begin to imagine what I’ve been going through!”
“Actually, I can, Mr. Kerensky,” Lisa told him. “You brought this on yourself when you got involved with Johansen.”
“You…how did you…?” He looked at her with astonishment. “All I did was put Johansen in touch with them. I didn’t know what he was planning…I mean, I knew he had some plan for Nilsson, but I didn’t know the details—I swear it. I told them that…but they don’t care. They want my blood, and…”
“And you want us to give you a quick, painless end rather than face…what was it they called what they did to Willard? The Death of a Thousand Cuts?”
“My God!” His voice was a high-pitched shriek. “They skinned him alive! They flayed him! They castrated him and cut out his tongue! And then they dumped his body into a sewage pit. And now they’re after me! You’ve got to help me!”
“I don’t have to do anything of the sort, Mr. Kerensky,” she told him with a grim smile. “I can send you packing right now. I could even get word to the Samboks and have them waiting outside the door when you come out. You people set them on me—I killed one of them in that chair you’re sitting in. Now you expect me to help you?
“You knew Johansen was planning to kill the Nilssons—which would have made you a very rich man—so you put the Samboks at his disposal. And now they’re blaming you because it brought a world of hurt down on their heads. They can’t blame Johansen—he’s dead. They need a sacrificial victim, and they don’t dare fuck with us or the Nilssons again. They sure as hell don’t want to fuck with LifeEnders, so I guess it’s your turn in the barrel.”
And apparently Mr. Eustace Willard was a bit more involved than we suspected, she thought. You just managed to stay out of their clutches a bit longer than he did.
“But…I’m inclined to be merciful,” she told him. “I really don’t like to see anyone suffer. Do you have children, Mr. Kerensky?”
“Huh…?” he looked at her in confusion, but with a note of hope in his voice. “Uhhh…a daughter—lives with my ex-wife in Houston.”
“Right.” Lisa checked the report on her screen. “So it appears that—whatever happens—she will soon become the owner of about 3% of Mjolnir Holdings. As for the rest of your ill-gotten wealth, you currently have about $375,000 in liquid and immediately accessible assets.
“We’ll take all of it. The rest of your estate can go wherever your will takes it, but you’d better get out your pad and make transfers. Our fees are payable today and non-refundable.
“In exchange, you’ll get our basic contract—no frills, and no choice about method of execution, other than our promise that it will be quick and relatively painless. Certainly a hell of a lot better than the Thousand Cuts.”
“Unfortunately…” she gave him a sweet smile, “it’s up to you to figure out how to stay out of their clutches for the three-day waiting period.”
“Nicely done,” Mark said as they watched Kerensky depart. “Think he’ll survive the three-day?”
“Does it matter?” she said. “He’s confirmed what we suspected all along. Either way, we got paid, and he’s toast.”
“True. So…let’s close up for the day. What do you want to do for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know…not really hungry,” she gave him a sultry smile, “but I do feel like taking a shower…
“Mmmmm…maybe we should just skip dinner.”
“Seriously, Waters…no one has even reported a sighting in the modern era. It’s a myth, an ancient legend.”
“Chief, I’ve done a lot of research on this…”
“Oh, I’ve heard about your research,” Anthony Martelli growled. “I get frequent complaints from the arcane arts people. You’re supposed to be working for us here—on occult and paranormal projects—but you’re all over the place. Next thing I know, you’ll be sticking your nose into extraterrestrial as well.”
“I’m sorry…it’s just…” Sparkling Waters tried her best to look contrite, but her enthusiasm got the better of her. “I can’t help it. It’s my flashes—my ‘talent,’ as you people call it. Things pop into my head, and I have to follow them.
“Besides…the arcane section might not like me poking around in their research system, but they’re the ones who have the most information on the subject. I can’t imagine why they’re not interested in pursuing it.”
“Maybe because it really is a myth.”
“It’s not!” she insisted. “Even they agree that dragons existed at one time. They just think maybe they’re extinct because nobody’s reported one lately. Look…ghosts have been a feature of ancient mythology all over the world, and it’s the same with dragons. Asian, Middle East, Norse, Eastern European mythology—dragons are everywhere.”
Martelli sighed. Waters had been a thorn in his side since she’d joined SAD two years ago. She was a major pain in the ass, a loose cannon, but unfortunately also one of the most talented operatives he had. In order to make use of that talent, however, he had to humor her crazy ideas and let her run off occasionally on a wild goose chase. Failures never seemed to discourage her.
“According to a report from our Boston office,” he told her, “we’ve got a ghost problem at an old mansion in Great Barrington, Massachusetts that’s happening right now. And it looks like we’ve got magic-using ghosts in Salem—some of those witches they burned may have been the real thing, and we’ll probably have to involve arcane arts in that one.
“Meanwhile, nobody’s reported a giant, flying, fire-breathing reptile in what…a thousand years or so? I think we’d know about it if there were any around—I mean it’s not like a Sasquatch, living in the remote wilderness. If dragons are as big as the legends say, and they really fly, somebody would notice.”
“That’s just the medieval manifestation.” She rolled her eyes. “A dragon isn’t actually a beast like the ones in the fantasy movies. It’s a creature—or maybe a person—who’s got a natural and enormously powerful channel to the continuum.”
“Continuum?”
“You know…kaval—that dimension of magic whose name nobody outside the arcane arts group is supposed to know.”
“Including you! What am I going to do with you, Waters?”
“Believe in me,” she said. “Let me follow up on this…please.”
“Look,” he shook his head, “nobody’s seen a dragon in a long time, but you claim to have found two of them—who just happen to be occupying the bodies of two LifeEnders people.”
“Not exactly—Charon’s Ferry is a franchise operation. They’re not LEI in the same sense we are. And they may not know what they really are…dragons, that is. They sort of know they’re different, but they don’t know how much power they have, or how to use it…and that’s the problem.
“According to my research—and I’m still very sketchy on some of it—the old flying, fire-breathing reptile of med
ieval times was what happened when a dragon got pushed over the edge and dumped a world of hurt on somebody or something.
“Now we may never see a flying reptile, but my concern is that maybe somebody like the Samboks will try to hit Mark or Lisa, and a few square blocks of downtown Los Angeles will get vaporized. That’s what a dragon can do.”
“The Samboks did try to hit them,” he reminded her. “And nothing like that happened. We ended up settling that problem for them…without vaporizing anything.”
“Because they aren’t aware of their power…yet. And they had other ways to handle that problem, like dropping it on us—they knew we weren’t going to let those terrorist wannabes run loose. Problem solved, dragons can go back to sleep.”
“So here you are,” he pointed a finger at her, “proposing to go poking around and maybe wake them up. If I actually believed they were what you say, that’s the last thing I’d want you doing.”
“I’m not going to wake them up,” she insisted. “I just want to study them, learn more about them so we’ll be better prepared in case they do wake up. And, hey…if I’m wrong about them, that’s just one less thing we have to worry about.”
“Waters, I cannot officially authorize any such project. For one thing, the magic and sorcery people would be all over my ass for letting one of my people fool around in what should be their area.
“I have no control over what you do in your spare time, but you shouldn’t have much of that, with all the paranormal projects I’ve given you to work on. Meanwhile, you would be well advised to forget this idea and stay away from the Ferry. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir…” Waters tried to look suitably humble. “I understand. I’ll try my best not to cause any trouble.”
“Hmmph!” Martelli snorted. “Why do I have the strange feeling your best won’t be good enough? Trouble seems to find you wherever you go.”
The Ferryman Page 26
