“Constance Majestros. Melvin Pemberley. Abraham Klee. All three are wanted felons. All three are currently loose in Sovereign. And I believe that all three might be working together.” Lazarus tapped the trio of photographs pinned on the wall. The entire Assistance Unlimited team was assembled around the meeting room table, including Sporrenberg, who had returned from his own investigation.
“What makes you think Klee is involved with the others?” the German asked.
“Just over a week ago, I heard from a friend in the police force that Klee had been spotted in the company of a veiled woman. Given how Constance was dressed today, I don’t think it’s a tremendous leap of logic to assume that she’s the person he was with. Now we have to ask ourselves why they would be joining forces. None of them is known to be a mastermind… in the past, all three have worked in service to others.”
Samantha leaned forward. She looked stronger than she had earlier in the day, a living testimony to the skills of Assistance Unlimited’s physician, Doctor Hancock. “Maybe they’ve banded together for protection?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Sporrenberg said. “They know we’re on to them so what do they have to lose?”
Lazarus nodded slowly, his miscolored eyes — one a dull brown, the other an emerald green — flashing with some inner realization. “Klee is something of a unique individual. His father conducted a series of experiments to enhance his hand/eye coordination. But a side effect was that his sodium levels are frequently a problem. He has to intake large amounts of salt — nearly six times what a normal man could handle.”
Abby took the bait. “So we need to track huge purchases of salt?”
Lazarus nodded, pointing at Eun. “When your parents ran their grocery store, you developed contacts with most of the grocers in the city, correct?”
The young Korean grinned. “This won’t take long at all, Chief. I’ll have your answer within the hour.”
“Good. While Eun’s working on that, I want Abby and Morgan to go through the newspaper clipping room. Find anything that might reference Constance, Klee or Pemberley, so that we can get a handle on their plans.”
As everyone jumped into action, Sporrenberg and Samantha were left behind with Lazarus. The team’s leader sat down and looked at each. “I have plans for you two, as well,” he said.
The German smiled, his handsome face lighting up the room. “Ja?”
“Jakob, I want you to kill someone for me.”
Two hours later, a disguised Jakob Sporrenberg was perched on the top of The Acme Motor Company, a sharpshooter rifle in his hands. His eye was pressed against the targeting scope and he stared intently at the street below, waiting for his target to appear.
Right on cue, Samantha Grace stepped out of Vincent’s Haberdashery, a shopping bag clutched in her left hand. She paused at the curb, as if to summon a taxi, but when her right hand waved in the air, she was actually sending a message to Sporrenberg.
Jakob lined up the shot, feeling a twinge of guilt run through him. The gun was filled with blanks and Samantha was merely to activate a blood packet in her blouse but it still felt weird pretending to shoot a friend.
Though he’d be hesitant to say it out loud, that was indeed the truth. Though he’d been an agent of Hitler’s SS, the men and women of Assistance Unlimited had seen fit to trust him. In doing so, they had become part of a very small grouping: those that Jakob considered more than mere allies. They were friends and family.
Even so, his loyalty to Lazarus was strong enough that Jakob pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot filled the air, causing a car to swerve on the street and everyone to stop where they were.
Samantha cried out, playing her part perfectly. She fell backwards, a huge red stain blooming across her chest. She landed partially on her side, her beautiful blue eyes fluttering as bystanders rushed to her aid.
Jakob stood up, pausing long enough for someone to notice him. Men pointed up at him, shouting curses and Jakob resisted the urge to smile. He wore a skullcap that made him appear bald, a series of scars crisscrossing the false scalp. When the descriptions came in to the police, there would be no doubt that the police and the press would quickly identify the shooter as Abraham Klee.
Lazarus had already arranged with Doctor Hancock to take Samantha into his care at St. Mercy’s Hospital, a fact that would be slipped into the newspapers as well. It was Gray’s belief that a man as prideful as Klee would be drawn out by all this, potentially leading the heroes back to his compatriots.
When a jaunty salute to the horrified crowd, Sporrenberg moved away from the rooftop’s edge. He was already stripping out of his disguise and by the time his feet touched down on the sidewalk a few moments later, he looked nothing at all like the man who had just shot Samantha Grace.
When the evening edition hit the streets, Abraham Klee was among the first to get a copy. He threw it down on the table in front of Constance, his harsh face twisted in fury. “What the hell’s going on here? I didn’t shoot that girl!”
Constance picked up the paper and scanned the article. Though her features were hidden beneath her veil, the sour smell of decomposition lingered in the air, causing Klee to keep his distance. “Mistaken identity,” she ventured, drawing a snort from the bald man.
Gesturing to the scars on his cranium, Klee asked, “You really think there are a lot of people out there like this?”
“Good point.” Constance folded the paper and set it in her lap. “We have a plan. This can’t distract us. In the end, it doesn’t matter. We plan to kill all of them anyway.”
“I don’t like having the quality of my work besmirched like this. People know that I don’t screw up hits. If I shoot somebody, they’re dead. It’s that simple. This makes me look bad.”
“And what would you like to do about it?”
“First: go the hospital and kill her. Second: find out who looks like me and kill him, too.”
Constance sighed. When she’d been prettier, she would have batted her eyelashes, flashed a little cleavage and gotten Klee wrapped around her little finger. But the look and smell of her face made it harder to use her feminine wiles, despite the fact that her figure was still to die for. “Abe, please listen to yourself. You’re talking about risking everything we’ve been working towards, just because your pride is taking a beating. Let it go. When all is said and done, we’ll be known as the people who killed Assistance Unlimited. That’s going to do more good for your reputation than killing a hospitalized girl ever would!”
Klee took a deep breath and nodded, turning away from her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, calling after him. “Just know that you’ll have time to deal with that later. All right?”
Klee exited the room, saying nothing in response. He knew she was right but he couldn’t help it. One side effect of his surgeries had been that he found it difficult to control his immediate impulses.
Someone was trying to make him look bad and he couldn’t sit aside and do nothing in response, no matter how much it might jeopardize the plans of his associates.
He was going to that hospital… and Samantha Grace was going to die for good.
Pemberley stared at the blood cells under his microscope and felt his heart skip a beat. Femi had consented to a full examination and the more he learned about the workings of her body, the more excited he became.
When he sat up, he noticed that the Egyptian princess was still as nude as she had been during the examination. He’d offered her a gown to wear but she’d shrugged it away, stating that she was not ashamed of her body.