Chapter 14
Four Years Ago
Date: June 5th
Location: Apartment in Lithuania
Time: 7:43 p.m.
“I hate rich people,” The same phrase passed through her lips like clockwork and I only nodded and hummed while trying to gather everything on the plate and not trip in the process. I was not very coordinated and carrying 6 different sandwiches was like being in the circus for me.
I finally got the last plate on and picked up the tray and felt my muscles tense slightly at the weight and fear of dropping it. All I had to do now was walk 10 feet to the customers table and I would be golden.
“You’re going to drop it,” She piped up again.
“Then you and everyone else will be thoroughly amused.” I muttered back.
Thankfully I didn’t drop anything although I did give a sandwich to the wrong person, but that was pretty close in my standards. They didn’t really say a word as they dug in and I wondered for what seemed like the billionth time if anyone in this town knew of something called common courtesy.
Feeling my feet ached I told Paulo that I was going in back to take my lunch break. He may have said something back but I was already through the door and grabbing my brown paper bag lunch out of the shooty fridge and sitting on a seat that made more noise than an infant.
Taking a bite it made me instantly miss home cooked meals or something that was better than a sandwich made from items entirely bought from what seemed like a grocery store. My funds were basically gone now and waitressing didn’t really give me much money. It paid the necessary bills, but such luxuries such as a new computer or food that cost more than ramen wasn’t really in the picture.
My mouth held the stale food for a moment before I swallowed and I looked around the room. The café on the outside was cute and quaint and perfect for the tourists and locals. The backroom, however, looked like something out of a one star horror movie. It was in desperate need of updates or at least a fridge that could get colder than 60 degrees.
I wondered if this was how the rest of my life was going to be. Yes I was relatively safe, despite the odd break-ins, where nothing was ever disturbed or stolen, but I was always going to be running. I didn’t know how long Lockstar was going to be after me, but I couldn’t imagine that they were just going to give up. Even with a new identity I would still probably have to move a lot and what then? Waitress at another restaurant. Without a college degree I was pretty much screwed, and I didn’t think making a fake record of me graduating at a university was going to keep me under the radar.
“Marge!” I jumped and looked over at the person who yelled at me and gave them a slight glare.
“Was the screaming really necessary Lyla?” I asked as she sat down with her own lunch and gave me a slight grin.
“Well you didn’t answer the first three times I said it,”
I flinched slightly, knowing that me pretending to be someone else, wasn’t exactly going that smoothly considering I couldn’t even respond to my “name.” People would be calling me multiple times before the sudden realization of “oh that’s my name” hit me. Thankfully everyone just assumed I was ignoring them, and I would rather be known as rude then as Aurora Carter.
“So,” Lyla continued. “There’s a fireworks festival, kind of a huge thing here, late next month, you want to come with me and Matt?”
“Matt and I,” I corrected her and she gave me a slight glare that seemed to have more malice in it than was necessary.
“Well do you?” She prodded.
Lyla was always trying to get me to go out and do some type of event with her and her friend Matt. I don’t know why it was always those two since she was a very friendly person yet I never see her hanging out with anyone besides him, not even the other coworkers. Her blunt manner sometimes offended me, but one gets used to it. But the constant asking if I wanted to do something was being to wear me thin. My fear kept me from leaving the places I know, but I knew it was just going to look odder and odder the more secluded I kept myself. I was still young, I should be going out and doing something fun.
“I don’t know,” I replied instead and I saw her face fall a bit.
“Come on Marge, you never do anything fun,” She complained. “You’ll love it, I hear it’s just like a 4th of July in America.”
Lyla was giving me the puppy eyes and pouting slightly to try and sway me and with it being over a month away, I figured maybe there was an excuse I could come up with later. If not, what really could go wrong at going to such a public setting to see fireworks?
“Ok,”
She cheered slightly and talked animatedly about it for the rest of our lunch before we went to finish up our shift. Even then she still yammered on about it, making it a little hard to concentrate on what the customers ordered.
By the time the sun finally fell my feet were begging for me to sit down, but there were still a few people sitting at the tables. They all had someone to sit by, with the exception of one woman who sat by herself and was draped in a large jacket. She was hunched over with her hair acting as a curtain making it practically impossible to identify, but she was quiet and easy so I had no problems with her.
I went over with the coffee pot and refilled her drink that she pushed to the top right corner meaning she wanted it refilled. When I went over she seemed to curl into herself more to try and hide herself and I felt like I could relate to the feeling.
“Anything else?” I try and ask brightly but the exhaustion was noticeable in my voice.
“No,” She muttered and grabbed the coffee quickly.
At first this action concerned me, but now it was a daily routine of her weird mannerisms. Plus she tipped well, which was very much appreciated to my starving account.
“She still not talking?” Lyla questioned me when I came back to put the coffee pot on the burner. There seemed to be a little bit of anger in her voice, like she was angered at someone not following the social norm.
“If she doesn’t want to, I don’t see the point,” I shrugged and started picking up the discarded dishes left by the customers.
“Don’t you think it’s odd though,” She leaned against the counter, blocking me from getting a mug stained with lipstick.
“Some people just don’t talk,” I walked around and grabbed them all and placed them in the sink while filling up the water for the busboy to clean.
“But-,” She wanted to continue before our boss yelled at her to help clean the kitchen. He was a rude and quick man, but he wrote my paychecks so I kept my mouth shut.
It effectively shut Lyla up as she went through the door and I was left to clean the counters and empty tables. By the time I was done, everyone was gone, or at least that’s what I thought until the woman in the long coat suddenly appeared before me.
“Can I help you?” I asked cautiously and wondered if I should have taken Lyla a bit more seriously about her concern with the mute woman.
“They’re everywhere,” Was all she said before she left the place with shaking shoulders and leaving me confused and terrified.
It wasn’t just some corny line she spit out, it could have very well been a serious threat. I had people after me, and those two words just terrified me to the core, it wasn’t a message, it was a threat. My head whipped around the café, just waiting for someone to barge in and take me away.
“Why don’t we sell alcohol?” I groaned feeling even more knots form in my back.
“And that is the million dollar question,” Lyla came out with the bottom half of her outfit completely drenched in water. “Don’t ask.”
“Wasn’t going to,” I replied back and looked up to realize that all of my work was done and going back to the apartment didn’t sound incredibly appealing, but neither did staying in an empty café.
About 20 minutes later the chairs were placed on the tables and everything was in its place. Paulo let Lyla and I go to our respective homes and soon I was out in the balmy air of my hideaway town and suddenly longer for the cold crisp of the Chicago air. I wondered if I would ever be able to go back and frowned when I realized that that answer was probably going to be no.
Arriving at the apartment complex I opted to go for the stairs, considering that the elevator always made me a bit uncomfortable considering the amount of noises it made. I was greeted with the familiar strong smell of lemon cleaning products used on the floors and the same man reading a newspaper on the couch in the lobby. Everything routine, everything normal.
My door was locked, which wasn’t always the case even when I locked it, and the windows were closed as well. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and hoped that the woman was just being a bit too paranoid, she certainly fit the profile.
However, after I was dressed in my pajamas and ready for bed my brain still couldn’t help but going back to what she said. Should I leave? Should I get a new identity? Should I really move based on two measly words a woman I have never really met said? It wasn’t easy uprooting a life even when one had the proper documentation.
Flexing my hands I went to my bed and reached underneath the mattress to grab the flash drive that I had kept since the barista man had given it to me. Some part of me couldn’t bear to throw it away and curiosity always gnawed at me. Most of the time I could ignore it, other times, this really being the only one, I couldn’t.
After starting my computer and putting in the flash drive I pulled up the list that I hadn’t stared at since the first time I clicked on the names again. Nothing was different, not that I should have been surprised, it’s not like flash drives could be updated if they were hidden underneath a bed.
Sighing I pushed the computer off my lap for it to fall softly on the bed and pressed my hands against my eyes seeing the stars forming. Why couldn’t this all just go away? Why couldn’t there be someone to fix all of this? Where was the A-Team for the criminals?
Pushing the questions back I grabbed the laptop and was ready to put it away when I noticed that under accomplishments, the words “none found” were highlighted meaning that there was an extra page or document added to it. Seeing that he was the only one that hardly had any information I clicked on it.
Unconfirmed information:
Kills: 39
Jail Record: Arrested by CIA, FBI, altercations with the Reapers
Notable Kills: George Destler
George Destler
Age: 52
Profession: CEO of Gusar Inc. and Shareholder of Jethro Inc.
Unconfirmed leader of Fells Underground Police
Death: Killed March 21
Report:
George Destler was found murdered in his estate by his wife, Amelia Destler, March 21st at 17:04 hours. Amelia reported to the local police that she had gone shopping for the day and arrived back at the house at 16:46 and when she couldn’t find her husband went to their pool located in the basement of the estate. George was found shot three times, one to the head, one to the heart, and one to the leg. Police autopsy reports go more in-depth, but unable to access at current time. Bullets were specially made and not connected to any gun, the Destler case is still on going. Lucien is believed to have murdered Destler despite there being no concrete proof. The reason for Lucien being behind the death is to be initiated into the Lamour cult.
I stopped reading after that realizing that I really didn’t need to read more about this Lucien character. He sounded brutal and vicious and while it wasn’t confirmed that he killed the guy, it seemed something very much in character for an assassin to do. Then again that was based on stereotypes, but here I was hiding out and working as a waitress so I couldn’t really say much either.
What kind of place wants someone to murder someone to be initiated? How can someone be so heartless as to do that? It made sense for an assassin I suppose, but ending a life just didn’t seem to be a thing taken lightly.
Part of me was itching to search more on George Destler, to get his autopsy report to fill in the rest of the blanks that this left me. I knew I could do it, I knew that it would take 10 minutes at the most, probably not even that. Before I knew what I was doing I had my fingers hovering over the keyboard ready to type in a code at the simplest thought. I froze.
This wasn’t keeping under the radar.
Instead I closed my laptop and went to the kitchen where I had a bottle of Absolut vodka sitting in a drawer. It tasted awful, but I wasn’t really in it for the taste, I was in it to make sure I never remembered anything about this day. I would have a killer hangover the next morning, but at least I wouldn’t recall anything, and right now that’s exactly what I needed.
Pouring the first shot I knocked back and coughed at the burn. I wonder how many shots wiping my memory will take…
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Date: March 18th
Location: Guardian Base
Time: 9:02 a.m.
“So?” Was my immediate response. Valentin killed people, it was his living, I knew this, and I knew he had to kill someone to get into Lockstar, why should I be surprised that the first man he kills is involved in shady business?
“Doesn’t it bother you?” William asked and I just looked at him baffled, not grasping where he was going.
“Is it supposed to bother me that an assassin kills people?” Ok in reality it did bother me a little and I wasn’t all gung ho about people murdering each other, but hey that’s life for you.
“No, not that, the way he killed him,” Now that stumped me for a second. I knew Valentin killed George, my mom even told me how she interrogated Valentin after they had their suspicions. But now looking back, I couldn’t recall ever hearing how he got killed.
“Wasn’t he shot in the head?” I asked and William looked at me with something that looked like a mix of shock and pity.
“Yes,” He started. “After he was killed.”
“Wait, what?”
“I shouldn’t tell you this story,” He’s about to stand up and I grab his sleeve and tug him back down.
“No, I’m sick and tired of people deciding what I can and cannot hear. You either tell me the story or I’ll find it myself,” William pursed his lips for a moment in debate and after realizing I was going to find out either way decided to play story teller.
“In the police autopsy it said that the shots to head and heart were done post mortem, after he died,” He explained.
“I know what post mortem means,” It’s one of the top words criminals have in their dictionaries. “The only other shot was to the leg, how can you die from that?”
“Destler was shot in the femoral artery,” William answered. “It’s an artery that connects straight to the heart, if you get shot there, you’ll bleed to death.”
Now that felt more like a punch to the stomach. I knew Valentin killed people, I knew it, but somewhere along the way I tricked myself into believing that he gave people short and quick deaths. Bleeding out, that took a long time and it was always extremely painful, to know that you’re dying and you can’t be saved.
“There wasn’t much blood found in the pool or in the filter,” I tried to reason back to him, remembering reading that little snippet from a police report.
“It’s heard through the grape vine that Valentin murdered George after he got out of the shower and shot him there. It was only after Destler died that he shot him in the chest and head and moved him to the pool where the police would have multiple areas someone would have to shoot at him. Seeing as the blood was in the shower, he just had to turn it on and make sure it looked dry before Amelia came home. With the man scene in the pool, no one really looked anywhere else.”
My stomach flip flopped as I tried to process all of the new information. This just wasn’t a normal killing, this was brutal and methodical and it made my skin crawl to think that I was in the same bed with a man capable of doing such brutality. But he also protected me and healed my wounds and made sure that I was safe.
Two sides of my brain were arguing back and forth and I just wanted them to shut up or one to win already, I was tired of the bickering.
“We stayed in his house,” I said softly not even knowing if William was listening. “At Destler’s, we stayed in one of his homes.” Who stayed at their targets house afterwards when a spouse was still living?
“When people kill as many as Valentin has, sometimes they try and turn off their emotions, so they can’t feel the guilt anymore,” William said softly, trying not to startle me. “It’s their way of coping.”
“Can they turn them back on?” It seemed odd talking about a person as if they were a robot, but I didn’t want to lose all faith in Valentin.
“I don’t know,” He replied truthfully and I was thankful that while it went down bitterly the false taste of sugar didn’t cloud my brain. “I’m saying this just as a warning.”
“Valentin doesn’t want to kill me,” I reassured him and I found comfort in feeling a firm belief in that statement. As to whether Valentin would kill anyone else, I wasn’t entirely sure of.
“Not Valentin, Amelia.”
“Destler’s wife?” I had seen pictures of the woman, she didn’t seem that frightening, but if Richard wanted her, than she had to be something more.
“She knows Valentin did it,” William seemed 100% sure on that statement and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was running an underground police organization.
“She wants revenge,” I offered and William nodded a bit gravely. “What does that have to do with any of this?”
“She wants to hurt Valentin the same way he hurt her,” My brain wasn’t connecting the clues fast enough so he finished the clue for me. “She wants to kill someone that Valentin cares about, and for a while there wasn’t anyone.”
“And now there’s me,”
Well, let’s just hope that no one else knows that I’ve been dating Valentin outside of our circle, otherwise this time I wasn’t sure I was going to get out of my coffin again.