“More than.” Lazarus reached out and squeezed her arm. “Thank you.”
Morgan and Eun exchanged amused glances as Abby sashayed away from Lazarus. They were well aware of the effect their leader had on the opposite sex — in fact, Samantha had carried a brightly burning torch for the man until she’d finally realized that he was unlikely to ever court a teammate. Apparently, Abby hadn’t yet learned that lesson.
Lazarus watched the machine for a moment before finally letting out a long, slow breath. “We need to get started. Everyone be careful — and keep in close contact.”
The group dispersed, rushing to get together their equipment and supplies. Lurking in the background of their thoughts was concern for Jakob… and the terrible fear that Lazarus might be wrong: that he might have already met his end.
Jakob woke up with a start as cold water splashed into his face. He sputtered, immediately feeling pain lance through all of his muscles. Through bleary eyes, he saw a large Negro standing before him, a dripping pail held in his right hand.
With a friendly smile, the black man asked, “Bet you’re feelin’ a little bit hungry, huh? The boss said I could give you a bite to eat if, you asked nicely.”
Jakob recognized the man’s drawl as being Southern American but he was in no mood to care about the fellow’s background. He was the enemy. “Let me down,” he said hoarsely.
“My name’s Earl,” was the reply, as if Jakob’s demand had never been heard. Setting down the pail, Earl moved to pick up a small tray containing a glass of milk and a small sandwich. “I can feed you.”
“Get away from me,” Jakob snarled, turning his head to the side when Earl approached with the tray.
“It’s not drugged, I promise ya. You’re gonna need your strength.”
“Go to hell,” Jakob muttered. When Earl didn’t make any move, the German sighed and looked at him once more. “Did you go through this, too? Did he hang you up by your arms and torture you?”
Earl’s eyes shifted away from Jakob’s gaze and for a long moment, he seemed uncertain about how to respond. But when he finally turned back to Jakob, he seemed at peace. “I didn’t do this. Not exactly. I had my own trial that I had to endure. But it hurt. And there was a point where I was screaming for the boss’s blood, let me tell ya. But eventually I saw what I needed to see.”
“And what was that?”
“Well, the Injuns… they say that when a man is on the brink of death, his spirit goes on a quest of sorts. And that eventually what you find is yourself, reflected back at ya like a mirror. This is your true self, mind you, not what we all like to pretend we are. When you see that reflection, you’ve got two choices: you can die, moving on to the afterlife with a clear view of who you and what you did; or you can fight your way back to the living world. But if you do that, you’re gonna be changed. No man can see the truth about himself and the world and not be different on the way back.”
“And did you see yourself?” Jakob asked in a mocking tone of voice.
“I did. And what I saw changed me forever.” Earl held up the tray one last time. “Are you certain you will not eat?”
“I’d rather starve.”
“Suit yourself.” Earl set the tray down on the table and bent down to retrieve a small box that was just out of Jakob’s range of vision. When he stood up again, he held a coiled whip in his left hand. “I will not enjoy this but the path is clear.”
Jakob’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t do this. Help me down and I’ll get you away from him. Whatever hold he’s got on you… it’s not right. You know that!”
“You’re wrong.” Earl’s smile returned and though he seemed genuinely sad about what he was doing, he obviously felt that he was right in doing it. “Someday, you’ll understand.” He uncoiled the whip and cracked it, making Jakob jump. “You’ll even thank me.”
Chapter VII
Pathways
Samantha leaned back in the copilot’s chair, enjoying the heavy thrum of the engines. Lazarus had purchased this plane during the early days of Assistance Unlimited, modifying it for long-distance travel. She marveled at his ability to handle the aircraft so skillfully and with a mischievous grin on her face, she wondered if he could do so while being a bit distracted.
“So you and Kelly aren’t dating any longer?”
The normally placid features of Lazarus Gray shifted slightly, revealing his discomfort. It would have been invisible to almost anyone but Samantha Grace, who was astute at observation. “Miss Emerson and I are merely good friends.”
“Hmm.” Samantha looked out at the landscape below and smiled. Kelly Emerson was the daughter of the Sovereign Museum’s curator and she’d shared a brief but torrid affair with Lazarus, one that had been rekindled during the Die Glocke case. “I guess that explains why she was dining at Giovanni’s with Robert Williams the other night.”
After a brief moment of silence, Lazarus cleared his throat. “Mr. Williams is a journalist who frequently covers exhibitions at the museum. It makes sense that they would be close.”
“They appeared very close.”
“What do you mean?”
Samantha looked over at him, a brief flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“You are!”
Lazarus began to angle the plane so that it could land at the Brussels airport. “All I did was ask for clarification about what you said.”
“It’s okay, you know. You can be human every once in awhile.”
The plane shuddered as the wheels touched down to the ground. “I am not jealous.”
“You already said that.”
“We should focus on the mission.”
“When we get back, I might give Kelly a call,” Samantha said breezily. “Invite her over.”
As the plane came to a halt, Lazarus exhaled and looked over at his friend. “You’ll talk me up, I assume?”
Samantha burst out laughing. “Sure,” she said, with an unladylike snort. “I promise.”
Lazarus smiled slightly. “See? Human.”
Morgan Watts yawned as he slid out from behind the wheel of his sedan. He looked around at the busy Boston streets and smiled. He’d always loved “Beantown” and during his mob days, he’d volunteer for any assignment that required travel there. There was something about the place that spoke to him on a primal leveclass="underline" the age of the buildings, the weighty feeling of history that clung to the one-way streets. He adored it.
Morgan approached the large apartment building, tipping his fedora at the doorman, who held open the door with a smile. Morgan glanced around the expansive foyer and made his way to the elevator, where an attendant asked him what floor he wanted.
“Penthouse.”
The attendant, a sallow-faced man with red hair, looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Davies has relocated.”
“His stuff is still here, right?”
“Well, yes. But I don’t see….”
“Then that’s what I’m here for.” Morgan reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet.
The attendant made a sour expression. “Sir, bribery will get you nowhere.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to bribe you.” Morgan pulled out a small card that he handed to the man. It read:
MORGAN WATTS
INVESTIGATOR
ASSISTANCE UNLIMITED
“Have you heard of us?” he asked, a smile on his face.
The effect on the attendant was comical. He stood up straight, his eyes widening, and he goggled at Morgan for a moment before finding the confidence to speak. “Yes, sir! Of course I have, sir!” Lowering his voice, he asked, “Is Lazarus Gray with you?”