Samantha was no stranger to breaking and entering. It was an odd thing, how proficient she had become at such a thing. Growing up in the midst of wealth and luxury, she had never seemed like the kind of girl likely to become adept at picking locks or shimmying in through windows.
Life was strange like that.
Wallace J. Newton’s office had been near the wharf in a rather seedy-looking two-story building. There were three other nameplates on the door outside the building’s entrance, with one of them offering private massage therapy and the other two offering income tax assistance. In all three cases, Samantha was sure that the legality of the services offered was questionable at best.
Newton had apparently never encountered a piece of paper that he deemed worthy of being thrown away. There were mounds of the stuff all over every available surface and Samantha couldn’t be sure where the desk even was at first, though she soon reasoned that it must be located somewhere near the rolling chair that had been converted into a shelf.
Samantha regarded the mess with a stoicism that was reminiscent of her employer. She knew that delaying it wouldn’t improve the situation any, so she simply dove into the task with gusto. In a surprisingly short amount of time, she’d uncovered a small folder filled with information about a man named Mr. Skull. As her eyes scanned the documents, she learned that the mysterious criminal was actually Garrison Montreux, a Canadian who had moved to Sovereign recently. From the looks of things, Newton had become curious about the man after learning that Doc Pemberley was working for him. Samantha couldn’t help but admire Newton for doing this much digging when he wasn’t being paid for it. It must have taken many hours of work: he’d compiled a list of men who worked for Skull, along with their usual haunts and what hours they were there.
A notepad shoved into the folder was filled with Newton’s musings on the matter: again and again, it seemed, he was wrestling with what to do with the information. Like most people in Sovereign, he knew that going to the police was a risky endeavor since at least some of the cops were likely to be crooks themselves. Samantha’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the words Assistance Unlimited followed by a question mark. The words were circled and in red underneath had been hastily scribbled ‘Yes!’ Apparently, Newton had been planning to turn over all this information to Gray at some point.
She heard heavy footsteps and the muted voices of men in the hallway. Quickly shoving the folder into the compact purse she carried, Samantha crawled under the desk as someone pushed open the door. From her vantage point, she could only see the feet of those who entered but it looked like three men. Two sets of legs were in ratty pants and soiled shoes. The man in the front, however, was wearing shoes so highly polished that Samantha was sure she’d be able to see the man’s face in them, had her position been better. His pants, too, were of the highest quality.
"Search the place, boys," the well-dressed man said. "If that private dick had any information on me, I want it now."
"You got it, boss," one of the others answered. As the two men began rifling through boxes and papers, casually tossing them to the floor when they were done with them, Samantha felt a chill go down her back. So this was Mr. Skull… things were beginning to fall into place. Newton was tracking Pemberley, which led him to Skull, who didn’t appreciate the attention. So Mr. Skull had Newton silenced, which inadvertently accomplished what Newton had wanted all along: to bring Skull to the attention of someone who could stop him.
Mr. Skull sauntered over to the window, peering outside. "When we’re done here, we’re headed over to the reservoir."
One of the men paused long enough to ask, "Uh, what for, boss?"
"We’re going to dump some of the Bone Dust into the city’s water supply. By this time tomorrow, we should have a few hundred, if not a thousand, dead. When the citizens of Sovereign see their husbands, wives, children all suffering before their eyes, they’ll be ready to do anything in exchange for an end to it. I’ll be able to name my price."
Samantha’s eyes went wide. What sort of man would do such a thing? She shuddered to think of the horrors that would ensue. It was one thing to murder a grown man like Wallace Newton — but to disfigure and kill children? She bit her lip to keep from crying out in disgust.
Apparently, the acts under discussion gave even Skull’s men reason to pause. The second man, the one who had asked about the reservoir, cleared his throat. "That’s gonna attract all kinds of heat, boss. I mean, it’s not just gonna be the law after us — I bet we’d be dealing with Doc Daye or Assistance Unlimited!"
"Then let them come!" Mr. Skull bellowed, turning to face his men. Something either in his words or demeanor made both men take a few steps away him and Samantha wrinkled her nose. It smelled like something was burning in the room and was she imagining it or did she hear the crackling of flames? "I’m not afraid of them," Mr. Skull continued, lowering his voice. "If they stick their noses in my business, they’ll get their heads handed to ‘em."
Samantha thought it strange that a French-Canadian should speak with a rough-and-tumble Gangster speech pattern. She slowly reached into her purse, hoping to find one of the small radio communicators that Lazarus had recently given to all members of the group. There were two settings on the device: one that functioned much like a standard walkie-talkie and the other where a silent signal was transmitted to all other devices, alerting them that there was someone in danger. As she grabbed hold of the device, she accidentally bumped her fingers up against a small makeup mirror, which slipped from her purse and fell to the floor. She quickly swiped her hand out to grab hold of it but it had rolled out from under the desk, bumping against the shoe of Mr. Skull.
Samantha quickly pressed the emergency button and sprang into action. She could hear Mr. Skull muttering something as he bent down to pick up the compact mirror and she knew that whatever he was saying, it wasn’t going to be anything good. She rolled out from under the desk, bumping into the rolling chair and sending papers spilling to the floor. By the time Samantha was on her feet, she had already drawn her pistol and was aiming it directly at the closest of the thugs. Without giving him the chance to surrender, she pulled the trigger and a slug slammed itself into his left shoulder, sending him toppling backwards in shock.
It was when she whirled about, intending to threaten Mr. Skull, that she experienced the shock of her young life. Though she’d seen some strange things in recent weeks, the image of a man with a burning skull for a head had to be the most bizarre of all.
"Put the gun down, doll," Skull said. He gestured for his men to retreat out into the hallway. The one who had been shot in the shoulder glared daggers at Samantha as he backed out. "Whom do you work for? Nobody told me that Newton had a secretary."
Samantha refused to cower, even in the face of such horror. "You’re one sick bastard," she hissed.
"Such language," Mr. Skull chided, taking a step toward her. "I bet your parents would be shocked, Miss Grace. That is your name, isn’t it? Now that I get a better look at you, I’m pretty sure I recognize you from the society pages."
"Can’t say that you have a familiar face," Samantha said, cocking her gun. "I can’t even say you have a face at all. Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot."
The flames danced higher around Skull’s head and he laughed, a rumbling sound that rose up deep in his chest and emerged through his skeletal teeth. "Go ahead and try it." He lunged forward, gripping hold of the desk and tossing it aside. It slammed against the wall, sending papers and pencils flying.
Samantha was true to her word, pulling back on the trigger. The barrel spat out hot metal death, the bullets slamming repeatedly into Mr. Skull’s midsection. He staggered back, grunting with each impact, but when Samantha was out of ammunition, he resumed his approach, backing her up against the wall.