Arrival By Wrath Part 11

"Jason McGovern. He said he found something at the Gluttony factory," Jack said, moving to have a seat. Preston sat across from him, on the couch.

"Who's that?" Preston said, beginning to gather all the sheets he could within arm's reach. He'd hoped it could be accomplished with more subtlety.

"We met him there; at the factory, I mean. He's that young scientist kid. He says he's found something that will rock our world, but he insisted we wait until tomorrow so he has more time to peg it down."

"Yeah," Preston said with an overtly mean and sardonic tone. "It's getting late. We wouldn't want to keep him up past his bed time."

"Listen, if you want, I'll do it alone. You can take some time off," Jack offered, still managing to be sympathetic. "It's just one meeting."

"I still can't believe she's dead," Preston affirmed, shifting back to the real subject at hand. It had been squirming between each word that they'd spoken.

"Neither can I," Jack replied, clearing his throat. "Look, what if we just hit a bar or something right now? I can tell my wife I can't make it. It'll be better to talk this over with a few drinks in you."

"No," Preston shot back. "I'm not going to be responsible for you missing out on time with your family," Preston stated, grasping for any reasonably plausible excuse. "Go home. I'll be in at the same time tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that," Jack said thoughtfully with a small smile. Despite that, Preston could still make out a glimmer of uncertainty in his partner's face.

Jack soon left in silence, somehow managing to shift the door into a closed position with minimal effort, almost gracefully. Preston remained on the couch, staring blankly at the dark television for a while before drifting off to sleep. The detective chose to remain silent as well.

Argosi lay peacefully in his bed, having woken from a light sleep only moments earlier. Alexandra was still asleep next to him, huddled close to him despite the plentiful s.p.a.ce in the bed.

He chose not to check the time, knowing the late hour would only serve to keep him awake longer.

Argosi breathed deeply, trying to lull himself back to sleep. It was becoming a nightly occurrence. Enough time had pa.s.sed since the factory bust. At the time, he'd hoped his life would have turned around by now. He'd been attending weekly parties with the upper crust of the Chicago elite, but whenever talk of Bloodstrife would waft like an unpleasant stench across the room, awkward looks in his direction soon followed. Most of the other overly rich power brokers in the city were far too accustomed to staring down an opponent to offer him the courtesy of subtle glances. It was always a full-on glare.

Alexandra was always at his side, eager to take his mind off things by sneaking him off to the bathroom while prying eyes watched them depart.

Taking another deep breath, this time a sigh, he ran his fingers through her dark hair before slowly getting out of bed, making sure he didn't wake her.

Just enough light from the lamps on the property outside illuminated the driveway through the windows as Argosi pa.s.sed. The night was hazy, drowning in a thick fog that crept silently across the front lawn.

The scant flickers of artificial light that floated in through the gla.s.s allowed him to traverse the s.p.a.cious halls to another room of the house in moderate darkness. Flipping the switch in the middle of the night wasn't an option. It was more a call for help to the security guards, a sign that something was wrong. In truth, it didn't matter. He'd been making the same nightly journey for weeks, even before the factory bust. Most of the guards knew the routine.

There, in the study, he could watch television or read without disturbing the woman in the bedroom.

After first seeing that broadcast about the factory, Argosi had a.s.sumed that every new night would pa.s.s without the sleeplessness that had plagued him for so many months during the Bloodstrife scandal. Instead, the specter of insomnia was omnipresent, bleeding into his nights without hesitation. Thick bags were starting to grow under his eyes, urging him to avoid the mirror whenever possible. All life was beginning to drain from his face. He was now a ghostly figure that greeted others, probably offering some newly discovered shock each time.

The CEO remembered staring at the Chicago skyline from his office, gleeful at the thought that his ever persistent stalker, the media, might finally leave him be. There would no longer be a constant threat always lurking two steps behind. Instead, even a fierce lover like Alexandra hadn't managed to exhaust him enough to sleep soundly through the entire night.

He smirked at the thought; it certainly wasn't for lack of trying.

Argosi made his way into one of the side rooms, still following the dim trail of lamplight in the windows. The room was furnished with a small TV and a bookshelf, loaded with books he'd never had the time nor desire to read. Like most of his furnished estate, the bookshelf was there for nothing more than decoration.

Using the dimmer switch on the wall, he bathed the room in the same dim glow present in the fog-filled outdoors, not bright enough to cause the guards any concern. Momentarily, he turned on the television, shielding his eyes for a few moments as they adjusted.

Argosi surfed the channels for a while before growing bored. Turning off the television, he reached over, grabbing a random book from the shelf, seeing if he could actually make himself read it.

For an hour he lightly skimmed the pages, barely paying attention. Mostly, he would manage to read a few sentences, then be distracted by the shadows on the walls. They were everywhere, moving freely with the trees outside as the dimming overhead lights flickered in irregular intervals.

A single shadow soon grew larger, too large to be from a random tree branch or a wisp of water vapor outside.

He slammed his book shut and turned in his chair, seeing a man clad in black standing silently in the doorway. Argosi could tell he hadn't bothered to wear a mask, but his face was obscured by the lack of light in that corner of the room.

Both men paused, refusing to move or make a sound.

A flash of light hovering around the man's waist caught Argosi's eye. It was a switchblade, clenched tightly in the man's fist. Slowly, the man brought it up. His hand rose amid a bout of nervous twitching. Without saying a word, the intruder stationed the hilt of the knife menacingly around his stomach, the blade pointed out directly at Argosi. Moving beyond the veil of darkness, he approached.

Gradually, the intruder moved into the light. He wore black pants and a thin black b.u.t.ton-down shirt. His face was fully exposed, a young man with dirty blond hair, matted in sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and tired.

Argosi's eyes darted back toward the knife. The a.s.sailant's hand was coated in thin black veins. The appendage was clenching the handle so tightly, a dark red hue covered his skin. He could see the arm shaking every few seconds, erupting in an endless repet.i.tion of small spasms. From the outside, he was a broken human being, crushed by Bloodstrife and probably so furious that he didn't know where he was.

Argosi could only imagine what the rest of him looked like, painted in thick, corrupted black vessels.

"What do you want?" Argosi said with a subtle whisper. He was unwilling to yell any louder. If he called for help, Alexandra would come running. More than likely, seeing a beautiful woman like that might be too much of a temptation for this man who stood before him. According to Detective Burroughs' interview, the addicts weren't supposed to be violent. At the moment, the CEO begged to differ. Alexandra could be killed if he handled the situation with reckless abandon, choosing to put himself before her.

Even so, he eyed the closest light switch, seeing it was too far away to send a signal.

The security guards patrolling the perimeter wouldn't come inside on their own unless they thought something was wrong.

"Is it money?" Argosi asked calmly, trying to delay the man while he thought of a worthwhile strategy. "Is that what you want? I can get it."

The man moved quickly without offering any inkling that he understood what was being offered to him. He was young and out of his head, a slave in every way to the drug. Argosi considered himself in good shape for his age, but under the circ.u.mstances, he knew he may as well have been chained to the chair.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to the gym or even pushed himself through the slightest bit of exercise. He would probably begin to overheat at the first forced movement.

The intruder approached in almost complete silence, clearing the few feet between them without so much as a hastened breath. Argosi let out a faint gasp as he tried to hold back the knife, catching the man's hand in midair. He watched closely, struggling to breathe.

For a moment, between labored breaths, the CEO was drowning in silence. Almost instantly, the room began to swirl. Moments later he realized the insomnia was probably to blame. His heartbeat began to ring as loud as thunder in his ears.

Pushed to their limit, his muscles yielded to the force of the blow. The knife plunged into him, right above the heart. It felt like solid fire driving its way downward, trying viciously to find his heart, almost as if alive. Finally, Argosi let out a scream, regretting immediately the impact it might have on Alexandra. His hands still clenching the man's wrist, Argosi struggled to look out the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a security guard running across the lawn, but couldn't be sure. The shadow on the gra.s.s was enveloped by the fog immediately. The scant light inside the room was also making it difficult to see outdoors. His vision began to fade, darkness creeping in around the edges.

"Die, you f.u.c.k!" the man screamed, standing in front of the wounded CEO. Slowly, he took several labored steps back, attempting to pull the knife out of Argosi's chest. Refusing to budge, Argosi strained to increase his grip on the man's arm.

The addict placed his other hand on the hilt and managed to twist it free in an explosion of pain. Argosi yelped as the knife moved around inside the wound. The blade came out with such force that the intruder stumbled backward, but managed to remain standing.

Argosi took advantage of the newly formed distance between them. He reached under the cushion he was sitting on and grabbed a small 9mm handgun. He fumbled with it for a moment, his hands slippery with blood.

"Stop, right there," he commanded weakly. He was shaking uncontrollably, no differently than his attacker.

The two men heard the front door swing open, followed by the subsequent barrage of footsteps on the linoleum floor in the main hall at the base of the stairs. Argosi knew the guards would be able to find him. The side room was where he could always be found at night.

After being distracted for a moment by the sounds of the guards rushing upstairs, Argosi focused on the intruder again, having never lowered the gun. The man appeared different than before. He was no longer shivering. The furious look on his face had melted away, replaced by an emotionless, stagnant expression.

The man screamed as he ran at him again, his knife drawn.

Argosi fired a single shot, stopping him dead in his tracks. The man's body crumpled on the floor. The guards entered a few moments later.

"Mr. Argosi, are you all right?" the first guard asked. He approached quickly, trying to tend to the wound.

"Yes, yes," the CEO responded coldly. He was clenching onto the laceration, refusing to let the guard try and dig around in his chest with unskilled hands. "I'll take care of this. Go get Alexandra."

As if on cue, she ran in a few seconds later, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

"My G.o.d, are you alright?" she asked with a frightened mien, eyeing the crumpled body of the unknown a.s.sailant. After another confirmatory nod from her lover, she asked, "Who is that?"

The body, although clearly dead, continued to shiver on the floor for a few more seconds before becoming totally lifeless.

"A would be a.s.sa.s.sin," Argosi said between gasps, staring intently at the slowly growing red puddle around the intruder. "I think it may have been a mistake to publicize my involvement in this little bust," he said, trying weakly to smile. "Alexandra, be a dear and call the police. Ask for Detective Burroughs. I think he'd like to hear this. Well," he continued skeptically, "his partner definitely will."

Chapter 10.

Preston had kept the promise he made to his partner, arriving on time to work the next day. Predictably, he'd been unable to sleep the night before, restless and despondent after Jack had left. It had been a harsh evening, filled with the opening of old emotional wounds and encroaching anger, both at himself and the peddlers of Bloodstrife who had yet to reveal themselves fully.

He'd begun drawing Elisabeth over and over, stopping only when his vision blurred due to impending tears. Then, at around one a.m., he'd gone to bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. Finally, his anxious mind relented, and sleep came around four-thirty.

As was becoming the custom, he'd pushed all the screaming emotional turmoil back down before rejoining the real world. Just like struggling with the broken door to his apartment, he gradually managed to fit everything back into place.

The morning drive had floated by in a haze. Preston had practically arrived at the station before realizing he'd even left his home. The only clear memory he had on the way in involved a close call with an SUV. As to whose fault it was, he couldn't be sure. But he knew he'd have to get himself together if he was going to be of use to anyone.

The mental fog continued until mid-morning when the news of Argosi's attack crept into their office, both annoying and inevitable like pollen on the wind in spring.

Preston remembered thinking about how Argosi always knew the worst possible time to come back into their lives.

Knowing that he was in the hospital and another detective had responded to the scene, both detectives had, until now, only looked over the crime scene photos. The detective who had responded to the call was to fill them in as soon as they were done.

Graciously, he'd agreed to help them for the day. By now, word had spread among the department regarding Preston's most recent attack. He didn't particularly like the newfound atmosphere of the police station, but he suddenly found himself unable to avoid the trivial favors and muddled kind words from the other officers.

Admittedly, the present situation was better than everyone knowing that he'd seen a shrink, let alone that he continued to draw endless pictures of his dead daughter, all while drifting through an insomniac's haze.

By lunch, Preston had begun to feel suffocated, both by the niceties and the scattered glances that everyone hoped he hadn't seen. Jack, the only watchful eye he wanted to have around, had been more than eager to take him out for a meal.

"You know, I think this is just the beginning," Jack said solemnly, sitting across the table at a low-key diner within walking distance of the station. "This kind of thing always happens, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Preston agreed, hazily perusing the menu ignoring the fact that they had already ordered. "I'm going to start having the Unis keep watch on your family," he stated without missing a beat, or bothering to look up.

"What?" Jack asked, his voice harboring the mild shock of betrayal. "This is more of a mutual decision, don't you think? I mean, they are my family."

"Yes," Preston responded again, looking up. "That's why I want to make sure they stay that way." His choice to drop such big news on his partner wasn't an accident. He'd been thinking about it since the heated conversation in his apartment the night before.

"C'mon, you've got to be kidding," Jack said, acting the part of a defeated opponent, when in reality, it was clear he didn't disagree.

"Enough," Preston commanded louder than he would have liked. His words had come out utterly devoid of patience, clearly on edge. Jack noticed worried and annoyed stares from patrons dotting the spa.r.s.ely populated restaurant. He knew the last thing they needed was another crowd of prying eyes coming out of the woodwork.

Jack could see his partner was still exhausted. Having been on the verge of death twice in one week was hard enough to deal with. The case was beginning to reach its boiling point, and things were starting to resemble the incident surrounding Elisabeth's death.

"Tell me about the druggies in the alley," Jack said calmly, folding both hands on top of the table. He knew it wasn't the best subject to shift gears, but Preston was always willing to talk about the case when the only other alternative was his daughter.

"They seemed like different people," he responded, looking casually around the diner with a glimmer of paranoia. The hand holding his coffee cup started to rattle before he forced himself to stop.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked with curious intensity. "Had you met them before?"

"No," Preston said before pausing momentarily while he gathered his thoughts. "Not exactly; I had met one of them on the street a few minutes before entering the alley, but that doesn't really count."

"How were they different then?" Jack asked, taking a sip of coffee.

The waitress arrived with their food, breaking up the conversation. Both detectives took the time to prepare themselves for the discussion ahead. After asking if there was anything else they needed in an unnecessarily happy tone, she set off toward the kitchen.

Preston stared down at the BLT he'd ordered, fattening and unappetizing on the plate. It was clearly hastily prepared. He envisioned a thick juicy steak from a five star restaurant, grasping instantly that he wouldn't be able to force himself to take more than a few bites of that either. The detective took a deep, unsatisfied breath and continued.

"I looked right into the guy's eyes and saw his pupils dilate as if all the light around us disappeared." Still looking downward, Preston reluctantly picked up the sandwich. "His tone of voice, his expression; everything changed in an instant. It was like he was a different person entirely."

"Well, you said that man in the hospital bed did something similar. He was just talking politely, then went insane with rage," Jack said, taking small bites of his burger. "h.e.l.l, if I saw something like that I'd be a little uneasy, too."

"Yeah," Preston added, still not having gathered the strength to eat, "but this was different. I could just see it. No other BS freak has exhibited behavior like that. My contact at the hospital confirmed it as well this morning. This is brand new as far as we can tell."

"Despite the fact we're pretty much the reigning experts on this stuff, there's still a lot we don't know," Jack said, leaning in closer and lowering his voice. "That guy Gluttony, for example; no one had ever seen that before either."

"Whatever," Preston responded distantly, finally taking a bite. The sandwich tasted better than he'd antic.i.p.ated. It brightened his mood, but only slightly. "So far, their bodies appear to be normal, aside from the ooze. I can't say I'm surprised," Preston stated with mild, but growing disgust. "Nothing came back on Gluttony's autopsy either."

Jack's phone began to ring. Reaching inside his coat, he saw the ID listing of the station.

"Great, what now?" he mumbled to Preston as he answered, swallowing the last of his food. "Detective Paige," he said, then, "really, are you sure?" He listened, pursing his lips in a show of interest. Moments later, after discussing a few more details, Jack ended the conversation by saying, "Thanks. We'll be there soon."

"More good news?" Preston groaned.

"That doctor-the one who operated on Pride," Jack said seriously. "He's dead. So's the nurse. A homeless guy found their bodies on the beach."

"First Argosi, now these guys. I knew that b.a.s.t.a.r.d was involved somehow," Preston said, shaking his head. He reached down, picking up his sandwich, and took another small bite. Any lingering thoughts of how good it tasted evaporated instantly.

"Yeah, but it looks like Argosi's not in their favor anymore," Jack stated.

"So," Preston asked, "who is?"

Preston carefully studied the report on the murdered surgeon and his nurse. If he and Jack hadn't known better, this could have been a random murder unrelated to the Bloodstrife investigation. The killings had been carried out in such a way as to avoid almost all suspicion. They were individuals not directly related to the case and, due to the less than ethical practice they ran, staying under the radar had been a specialty of theirs.

Regardless, the drug producers would have known it was only a matter of time until the Chicago PD connected the dots, figuring out who they were and why they had been killed. Actions like that raised a few too many questions.

Although managing to temporarily suppress the detective in his head, Preston knew he would have a harder time deciphering the message they were giving him with the two bodies. With slight frustration, he flipped over The Twist on his desk, hoping that the goo going down the incline would help him think more clearly.

His office was growing more and more cluttered by the day. Crime scene photos were spreading across all four walls and even covering some s.p.a.ce in the windows. Every day, his secretary would have something new to bring them, and there was no end in sight.