Chapter Fifteen

Lester crept down the hallway, crouched low and hugging the wall. His left hand held one of the Glocks out and at the ready, while his right arm was cocked, holding the other and prepared in case whatever tripped the alarm managed to be behind him. He moved quickly to the kitchen and brushed the lace curtain aside, enough to peek out towards the street. An older model truck was about 30 yards away, idling in the street, lights on but unoccupied. Hardly subtle, Lester thought, but a quick getaway sometimes trumped stealth – and he was sure whoever was there didn’t realize Lester was maintaining an alarmed perimeter and coming out armed.

There was a doggie door in the kitchen, so Lester gently pried the flap back enough to scan the area in front of the place. There was no movement or sound around him, but in the distance, he saw a shadow. Under the far streetlamp, a burly man scuttled across the street towards the car. The older man was oblivious to the fact that Lester would hesitate little to squeeze a couple of rounds into his knees and then ask a few questions while he bled, but it would never devolve into that since he was in his truck and on his way to neighboring block to deliver the morning edition.

Clicking the safety back on both the guns, Lester took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead and eyes. He wasn’t drawing people out after him, he was moving farther away from finding out where the Bullocks were and keeping an eye on David. Lester grabbed his things and wrote a note for Jamie, thanking her for her hospitality and apologizing for his hasty departure. Wrapped in the folded paper was a stack of $20 and $50 bills, and the mention of a down payment towards the next time he came to town. He planned to make Somerset and the Bullock home by dawn, but as well as that would work out for him, he had not expected agents Kroger and Radley to be gone without a trace.

---

Inside the Bullock’s home, there was not a single indication that Radley or Kroger had been there. The equipment and proof of occupancy by way of food wrapper and trash were all gone. Lester didn’t spend too much time inside, especially if the missing Bullocks were really being looked into by the FBI. Nothing said suspicious more than a black man in a missing white couple’s home in the South, no matter how progressive people thought or what the true circumstances were. The last place Lester wanted to go was anywhere near David, but since he was out of touch with Harry and now the two agents were gone, having an ally around would have to pay off more than the threat of putting Bullock in jeopardy.

After switching out for another rental car, Lester ended up back at Tommy Liu’s. Tommy had never made a response to the message Lester left for him, but that didn’t trouble him until he pulled up and saw the splintered frame of the front door. Unnoticeable from far, Lester could see the door had been knocked in and later reset to conceal that fact, so only a person close enough to open the door could tell. Lester immediately pulled a gun out and ducked in the entryway. He slowly pushed the front door open and tried to survey the inside. As the door opened slowly, it revealed an interior that had been tossed and rifled through. And in the center of the room was Tommy, hanging from the overhead fan, his hand tied behind him and feet no more than an inch from the ground that could have anchored him.

Lester felt sick to his stomach. Not because he’d never seen a corpse dead in that manner, but because his friend Tommy had died helping him, and he was responsible for it happening. He could tell himself that Tommy would have taken care of a threat and known what to expect from a dangerous situation, but that was no substitute for the truth. The piss and shit had not soaked through Tommy’s pants that much, and Lester figured he had not died too long ago, even though the blood was pooling in purple bands at Tommy’s wrists and neck where he was bound. The place had been flipped pretty seriously, and Lester ran into the back end of the house through more debris and broken pieces of cool kitsch looking for one thing only – David.

There was no blood, no body, and no sign of David, which may have made Lester comfortable if he’d been riding a more optimistic streak, but given the wreckage, there was a good chance that David may not have escaped or hidden or avoided the trouble that Tommy dealt with. There was no time to reason it out, as a bullet whizzed past his head. Lester fell backwards as plaster and chips of paint sprayed on him where the slug hit the wall. He’d managed to find himself at the back of the main hallway and used his falling momentum to get close enough to the back bedroom and crawl though the doorway, where he scrambled to kick the door shut.

“Mr. Phfister,” said an unfamiliar voice,” please come out and talk with us.”

“Nah…you’re welcome to come back here. I promise I’ll let you tell me who sent you before I kill you as quickly as possible.”

The voice shouted from beyond the door. “Sure, well come back there. We’ll talk.”

Lester had gone into the attached bathroom and broken the towel bar from it’s mount. He stood with it, ready to swing backhanded at the first person who come through the door, and drew one of the 9mms. He was lucky to hold his grip on it as a shotgun blast tore the door apart, leaving only the bottom half still closed and intact. To spilt the door, whoever was holding the shotgun had to be close, and Lester knew that having one person in between him and however many others there were out there gave him the benefit of cover. He flung the towel bar out into the hallway, where it hit the wall and careened down the corridor, causing the man there to squeeze off a shotgun round into the ceiling. As the man was startled, Lester spun around low and saw the temporarily distracted gunman, who was helpless to defend against the three quick shots Lester fired into his midsection.

Shots flew overhead through the doorway and through some of the surrounding wall as Lester waited outside their line of fire until they stopped to reload. He went over to the half-door, which had even more holes in it, like something out of a cartoon where it resembled a hunk of swiss cheese, and was able to see the dying man in the hall, who in an unintentional last effort dropped his shotgun far enough away that Lester would have to risk venturing out just to get it, and even still not be sure how many rounds were left in it. “I still wanna talk,” Lester said. ”I hope you’re still planning to come on back.”

“C’mon, Lester, we don’t want to kill you. If you tell us what we want to know, we may only leave you for dead.”

Lester recognized Kroger’s voice. He and Radley weren’t at Bullock’s because they were probably trailing him.

“So somehow you intercepted my call and came here. That was your big plan?” Lester tried to get them talking, stalling for time to come up with some options. A flat out gun battle would not end up in his favor and he needed to find an advantage. “How did you dipshits ever get hired in the first place?”

“Now now, Lester, who’s the dipshit here? We didn’t need to intercept the call, just to see where you were dialing and then run a trace against the registered address. And besides, you didn’t even know parts of your agency had been compromised,” taunted Radley. “Your own stupid luck delayed this by dropping off Bullock before you arrived. Our other people came ‘round for his parents. We were just the clean up crew in case our intel was correct that you or your partner had picked up Bullock and made it to Somerset.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you’d found him, either,” Lester challenged.

“Like I said, we’re just clean up, and you’re a loose end. Even though we’re all operating as cells, some of us got together and figured out that we create the infrastructure, not handlers or desk jockeys or politicos. There’s money to be made and power to be had out of all of this. And when you look at the shit coming down the pipe…well, there’s no such thing as good or evil. It’s just whoever holds the key to the door. We’re the gatekeepers.”

“Fucking arrogant is what you are,” said Lester. He had found something of use in the bathroom – a can of Lysol, and shook it heartily. He flipped over the wastebasket and put it inside. “You going to come here and finish this or what?” Before they could answer, Lester lobbed it into the hall on the other side of the door. A few shots were fired, but only out of surprise. But Lester wanted to add to that surprise, and fired a few times until he hit the aerosol can, which shot the crude projectile down the hallway, giving him a chance to spring up and see where Kroger was at down the hall and fire until the clip emptied. Kroger groaned and fell down.

While he was decent on the draw, the Glock itself was not a terrifically accurate small caliber gun by Lester’s standards. He was lucky to have hit Kroger, his skill surpassing the average German gun’s calibration. Not that he’d have been much better off hitting him had a Beretta been available, but Lester was somewhat impressed that the lightweight composite gun worked so well in his favor.

“What’s that Kroger?”

Lester smiled as Kroger sputtered blood, coughing and fighting for his last breaths. Radley checked him, but there was little he could do to keep his partner alive. Angrily, he fired down the hall, and his accomplice did too. When the salvo stopped, Radley tried to compose himself. “You know Lester, you’re not such a bad guy, but now that you’ve gone and shot my partner, I feel obligated to return the favor.”

“We’re not even close to even for what you did to Tommy,” he snarled. “I only wish it was you Dex.” Lester took the empty clip out and tossed it into the hallway. “I only wish it could have been you.” He cleared the chamber and threw the gun into the hallway as well. “I’m coming out now, so don’t get all twitchy.” He slowly put one hand out, then the other, and slowly moved into view. He stood palms out, raised high, hoping that they were not the shoot first, shoot more later type. “Let’s just be cool, okay?” He raised his hands slowly, putting them behind his head submissively.

Dex and the other agent had their guns raised, but as Lester slowly went down the hall, stepping over the dead man and showing his lack of aggression, they relaxed but didn’t completely lower their weapons. “That’s close enough, Lester,” Radley said. “You’re too dangerous to allow any closer.”

“Normally I’d take that as a compliment, but seeing as how I’m surrendering, your flattery is not quite overwhelming me.” Lester stopped as they instructed, and slowly went down on one knee, then the other. “Look, take me to your leader or whatever and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

Radley still held his gun, but lowered it to his waist, while the other man looked to him for instruction. He nodded, and the nameless agent holstered his gun and reached for plastic tie cuffs to bind Lester.

“You’re not going to torture me like you did to Tommy,” said Lester.

“Radley paused and thought about it. “I’m undecided on that Lester.”

Lester’s hand gripped the other Glock tucked into the collar of his shirt behind him, unseen by either of the men. In one motion, he drew it and fell forward, firing twice at Radley, hitting him in the hip and chest, which made returning fire even more difficult as he raised his gun back at Lester. The other agent fumbled the ties and tried to go for his weapon, but Lester already had the drop and shot him three times, knocking him back and into the corner. Lester got up and stood on Dex’s wrist until he dropped the gun he clutched on his way down. "Wasn't asking. I was telling you you're not going to torture me."

“You’re not going to get away with this,” he spat. “We are everywhere.”

“Then I won’t have any trouble finding you. This one’s for Tommy.”

A shot rang out in the silent afternoon. And something stirred in the back.

---

Ivy had gone to The Roxy (which just goes to show that every North American town has a club with said name) per John Cabbage’s invitation Tuesday night and settled in at a booth with John and some of the locals he knew. She had enjoyed The Big Dirty Band, but admittedly wasn’t very into rock music. She had nursed the cider they’d bought her but didn’t keep close to the pace the rest had maintained. Cabbage was a good fellow, and his buddies were decent, blue collar workers who every once in a while liked a cold drink and the hot atmosphere of a live show. Ivy was just interested in watching them interact, telling jokes and sharing tales about the misfits they were when they were wild and younger.

Occasionally, some bold young man would come by and try to strike up a conversation with Ivy, who would smile politely but not have any interest. Those who didn’t get the hint were often intimidated by the stares of Ivy’s de facto chaperones. As it neared midnight, the group thinned out until it was just John and Ivy. She hadn’t said much during the course of the evening, but now that they were alone, she felt like she could talk to him in a frank, uncensored way that his friends had prohibited. While he was little less than a stranger to her than his buddies, she felt what she was going to talk to him about wouldn’t be dismissed.

“Do you think it’s weird to put stock in your dreams?”

“No, not really,” he said. “You have to have something that drives you or motivates you.”

“I don’t mean, like, your dreams, and you want to be an actress or fashion designer. Like having a dream that seems like its trying to tell you something.”

“Well, what’s your dream telling you to do?”

“I feel like I have to go somewhere. Is that strange?” Ivy took a sip of the cider, which was no longer cold and was starting to get flat, but she made no face or indication.

John scratched at his beard and smiled. “You’re just not the type of person who stays anywhere for very long, are you?”

“Well, no, but…”

“You have to figure out where you want to be, not where you need to go.”

Ivy was about to protest, and explain her many years of traveling. She was going to tell him about the lake, and the voice that felt like it was turning her waking hours into daydreams. But that didn’t matter when she took in what he said, and realized that she not only needed to figure out where this place was that was now consistently in her dreams as well as get there. Maybe it was the place that would make her want to stop traveling. She didn’t know, but she would find it and stop her gypsy-like existence, either taking root there or at least staying until she’d decided on the place.

“I guess it never crossed my mind to see it like that. I’ve always felt compelled to move on and never was at ease, but it was going that I though was pushing me. I never though about heading for someplace because I was thinking of staying.”

“Well, wherever you think that place is, try and stay.”

They smiled, and she reached for his hand and squeezed it. He put his paw over her hand and patted it comfortingly. “It’s late for an old man like me. You kids can stay up all night, but I’ve got to stagger back to my cave and hibernate.” He pushed himself along the curve of the booth and stood. “You’ll be okay if you stay?”

“Sure…I think I can handle your town.”

Ivy smiled and Cabbage turned, lumbering off through the thinning crowd, waving to her without looking as he made his way out. She crinkled her fingers in a small wave back even though he didn’t look back. The club was changing over as the live bands stopped, and The Roxy turned into Cavern Shadow, a darkwave and fetish club. The interaction on the street was limited but both sides looked disdainfully at each other. It was as though the daywalkers were having their last hurrah and heading home as the nightcrawlers congregated under cover of night. Hard, mustached men and frail, pale man-children locked eyes as they crossed, each thankful they were not the other. Ivy figured she’d stay a short while longer just to watch some of the freaks and take in the spectacle of elaborate makeup and clothing.

While the darkly dressed denizens seemed to be socializing and greeting each other as they entered, a group over by the bar was doing no such fraternizing. Koben ran his long, stick-like fingers over his bald head as if he was petting a cat. He and Ulrich had made Ivy at the studio the night of the storm and after losing David Bullock at the restaurant, split from Morgana and Turel to follow her. They were certain that this young girl had some knowledge of Bullock’s whereabouts, and were not leaving until they’d found out what they wanted to know. Ulrich sat stoically like a gargoyle in sunglasses next to Koben, who’d stopped fondling his head and was now tracing the scars on his face that ran down his jaw. Koben was pissed at Morgana for not showing up as they’d discussed, and Turel was still crying over getting hurt. Feeble, he thought of them. Weak, fragile souls who frightened at the first sign of resistance. That was why he preferred Ulrich’s company, though he rarely spoke, it still made him feel like he was with somebody dependable.

Ulrich nudged Koben and pointed at Ivy, who was watching the first wave of kids hit the dance floor. The club was nearly as full as when the bands were playing earlier, and crossing the room took some zigzagging and navigating, as a straight line would not make it through. They made their way to the table where Ivy was still and stood in front of her view of the club.

“Hey man, what’s up,” she asked.

“You come with us,” Ulrich said.

“What?” Ivy was actually tiring politely rejecting the suitors who’d come along all evening.

Koben spoke. “He’s not going to ask you again. And I’m not going to ask you at all.”

Ivy had wished she’d left with John, or had him around because the two night goons were crossing from creepy into scary.

“Men seem to have the worst manners.” The voice came from behind them, just loud enough to cut through the music blaring on the soundsystem. Koben turned around slowly to see who’d said it, but Ulrich just dropped to the ground. The base of a glass mug slamming against the back of his head was not hear over the music, but it’s effect were clear. Koben was swiftly gripped by his groin and went limp. He would have doubled over but he was grabbed by the throat and held up, then thrown up against the wall next to the booth hard enough to allow him to join Ulrich motionlessly. “Only a lady knows how to treat a lady.”

It was smoky and the lights were pulsing, but Ivy knew she’d seen the woman before. Pam was unaware until she’d gotten that close to realize she’d identified Ivy as Dave’s (and her) crush as well. That moment of recognition like two dogs sniffing each other’s assholes was amplified by the energy between the two of them as both Ru and Hrel sensed each other’s mark on the women. Neither knew they were each being hosted, but the angelic residue from Pam and Ivy’s contact with them was like looking at a motel comforter under black light.

“Those guys are going to keep bothering you if you stick around. Why don’t you come with me?”

“You know Brother Dave,” Ivy asked although she knew the answer.

“Oh, intimately.”

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s a long story…but I’m not surprised that I ran into you.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s probably back in Somerset…I think he’s looking for a friend. Come on, I’ll explain.”

Pam took Ivy outside by the hand. Ivy’s grip was so dainty, and Pam felt a surge of strength as she acted as protector to this young ingénue. Outside the club, there was a Town Car waiting for them and they got in. Anton turned to Pam. “Did we take care of everything?”

“Pretty much. Now pull into that alleyway.” Anton tuned the corner and then crossed the street into the alley.

“This’ll take just a moment, Pam said.” She and Anton got out, and went to the trunk. He opened it and Pam looked down at the hogtied bundles.

“You were right. Your friends were here. And I kept my word and didn’t tell them you told me so.” Anton lifted Turel out and pushed him into a trash can. He was still unconscious after the beating Pam had put on him getting him to reveal the spot Morgana was squatting in in Seattle. Anton pulled her out next, and Morgana was in similarly bad shape, but with duct tape on her mouth.

“If I ever see any of you again, I will kill you, and you know I’m serious,” Pam said as Anton pushed her on top of her fallen comrade. “You understand, right?”

With the one eye that was not swollen shut, Morgana blinked in affirmation. Trunk closed, they drove off.

“I’m Pam, and this is Anton,” she said, formally introducing herself to Ivy. “We need to find Dave, but we think if we find his…uh…friend Ru first, that can help us. Do you know Ru?”

Ivy held her fear back, and flatly answered “no”. This Pam, she worked with Dave, but she was able to find her and knew about Ru, who she’d told no one about – it was not necessary for her to share her experiences with her. But Brother Dave would be able to help her.

“My name’s Ivy. Are you going to Somerset?”

“I think I’m going to have to,” said Pam. “But I hear it’s real nice…there’s a beautiful lake there. Lake Cumberland. Its on the other side of a pair of hills in a valley. I know this is odd, but do you want to come with us if we go?”

Ivy couldn’t say no having heard Pam describe the place from her dreams. “Yeah, I think that would be a fun little adventure. I need to get my things, but we can go right away.”

“Well, Anton, you heard the lady…”

---

Lester went into the back bedroom where he’d heard the sound. It was coming from the bathroom. From behind the shower curtain, there was movement, and Lester brushed it aside to find a groggy David Bullock. He was wincing as he held his head. “I’ve got a concussion,” he said.

“What happened,” asked Lester and he looked at the caked blood that crowned Dave’s scalp.

“Tommy said I needed to hide and keep quiet because he thought some people were coming, but before I could say anything, he totally clubbed me, and then I woke up in the shower just now. What’s going on?”

“We’re disappearing for a few days, and then we’re going to Somerset to meet up with Harry…hopefully. And once we get together, you’re going to take us to where you found Ru…or where it found you.”

Lester keyed in a message to Harry, who he hoped would check one of the different email accounts he was sending it to. The message was SAY HI TO NANA, and it went out to Harry’s work and two personal accounts, as well as a voice mail on the customer service line through the Department of Weights and Measures that Harry could access. If he happened to get the message, it told him to log into a specific account they’d shared the password to where Lester would send information. He had no idea where Harry could be or what his situation was, but hoped that Harry could make it to Somerset and meet him by Sunday. It was only Tuesday night, and Lester knew that he should stay out of Somerset until the last possible moment, just to keep him and Dave out of the crosshairs of any of Radley’s pals.

“Dave, how do you feel about car museums and fresh blueberry pie?”