When the Devil Drives Read online

  But Belinda didn’t have my particular skills. It was likely that Gospodin Grekov had his tentacles in Elite Solutions and Belinda had probably failed to make a payment or make good on some other promise. It also made complete sense for them to dispose of a body and take out the competition all at the same time. I just needed to figure out who and how.

  * * *

  Rather than exhaust myself and play games with the sun collecting equipment that was scattered around the world I just went to a nearby electronics store, and used cash to buy what I needed. I then hied myself down to Brighton Beach and boosted a car.

  Uncle Ivan had a number of offices for his various endeavors, but he seemed to stick close to home, a garish house on Corbin Place. Judging by the houses to either side Ivan had purchased one of the grand old places, knocked it down, and put up a monstrosity. There does seem to be something about decadent oil sheiks and mobsters that make them crave the vulgar and tasteless. The house was a perfect example.

  It was close enough to the ocean that the smell of brine and soft rumble and hiss of the waves carried through the open car window. I sat with my sandwich and a beer, a pistol on the seat next to me, a camera, a change of clothing for both avatars, and a big ears rig that could pick up conversations inside the house. Men came and went. Strong guy, strong guy, thug, young woman with a little girl about Jasper’s age.

  One of the strong guys took offense at a car that had been luxurious in parking so he picked it up by the rear axle and moved it. I marked him down as someone who could easily carry a dead body up a number of stairs. The sun was starting to set when a silhouette etched itself against the glow. A flying ace. I sat up and grabbed my camera. The ace dropped onto the sidewalk in front of the house, straightened his suit jacket and entered.

  I had been so excited by the sight of this ace that I lost situational awareness. It returned in a rush when the top of the stolen car was torn back like a man opening a can of sardines.

  I scrambled for the pistol, but found myself grabbed by the back of the collar and hoisted, choking, out of the car. I reached back to try and claw his eyes. He head butted me and red streaks flashed across my vision from the force of the blow. I went limp so he wouldn’t hit me again. I needed to stay conscious.

  He flung me over his shoulder. Ilya was not accessible at sunset and Lilith could not be accessed until it was full dark. I desperately measured the distance until the sun set. Minutes yet.

  I was carried into the house and thrown onto the oriental silk rug. It didn’t do much to cushion the landing since there was cold marble beneath it.

  “Found him in a car, boss, watching the house. He had lots of surveillance equipment and a gun,” the ace said in Russian.

  “Thank you, Vladimir.”

  I groaned and peered up at the dapper little man standing over me. He had perfectly coiffed milk white hair and an absurdly elaborate waxed mustache. He seemed less cherubic after he kicked me hard in the ribs. I recognized Ivan Grekov from my research.

  “Who are you? NYPD? FBI? SCARE?”

  “None of the above.” I climbed to my feet.

  Now that I was erect I could evaluate my surroundings. It was a study. A fire burned in the ornate marble grate. A huge polished mahogany desk, high backed leather armchairs, and a sideboard loaded with bottles of liquor—most of them vodka—made up the furnishings. The flying ace was also in the room peering at me curiously.

  “Wait, I recognize you,” Grekov said. “You’re that Brit. You have been costing me, tovarich.“

  “Cutting into Belinda’s profits, was I? Is that why you killed her?” The three men exchanged glances and began to laugh uproariously. “Okay, I gather that’s an erroneous conclusion. Care to enlighten me?”

  Grekov exchanged glances with his thugs. “Why not? But nothing comes for free, Mr. Matthews. Same deal I had with Belinda. Thirty percent of your gross.”

  “Sure,” I said. Now that I had been inside the house I could return and kill him any time I wanted.

  He was smart enough to have a momentary worry over my prompt agreement, but greed and a lifetime of feeling untouchable made him continue. “She had fallen behind on her payments. I hope you’ll do better.”

  “I’m sure I can. Now keep your side of the bargain.”

  “Harvey, Belinda’s husband, called me a few nights ago. Blubbering about how he’d done a terrible thing. Could I help him. Once I understood the problem I saw a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Take over her company and yours as well.”

  Grekov gestured at the flying ace. “I sent Boris to deal with the problem.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Ivan, Vladimir and Boris? Really? Could you be any more of a cliché? Sorry, you were saying?”

  The old man looked amused. The two aces glared, but Boris picked up the tale. “I went to the condo. Guy had shot his wife. He was bawling about how he had let her down. I didn’t pay much attention.…”

  I wasn’t paying any attention either. The sun had set. It’s not easy to move during the change, but needs must when the devil drives so as my bones were shifting I lunged for Boris. I wrapped an arm around his throat, and with my free hand ripped the gun from its shoulder holster and pressed it into his side.

  He took to the air and slammed me against the ceiling. It almost knocked the breath out of me, but I tightened my grip on both him and the gun, pictured our destination and teleported—

  * * *

  —To a jail cell in Cairo with which I was intimately acquainted. Since we were ten feet up in the air it was a hard landing. I scrambled away from Boris and jumped to my feet. Fortunately he was disoriented by the transition. By the time he rolled to his feet I was holding the gun on him.

  Shock had robbed him of English. He stuttered in Russian, “Wha … what the fuck? What are you? Where am I?”

  “In a jail cell in Cairo. I pay a monthly bribe to the warden to keep it for my private use. You never know when you might want to sequester someone,” I replied in the same language.

  “Fuck you, you bastard!”

  “Currently the proper term is bitch.” I shot him in the leg. He screamed and clutched at his calf. Blood welled between his fingers. He started crying.

  “Oh dear God, stop blubbering. It’s a flesh wound. You work for a mobster. Didn’t you think this was a possibility? Tell me about what the husband said.”

  He wiped snot onto his sleeve and glared at me. “He said she’d found out some stuff. He was bawling that he was a coward, that he’d let her down. I picked up the body and flew it to the building. Landed on the roof, carried her down to the eighth floor and left her. That’s all I know.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be back for you later. And you can tell the police everything you just told me.”

  “You’re leaving me? But I’m bleeding.”

  “You won’t die of it. I suggest you use your shirt for a bandage, and tie it place with a shoe lace.”

  I teleported back to my office.

  * * *

  I sat at my desk and gently probed my aching side while I considered. So Belinda had “found out something”. The question was what. I decided I probably had a couple of broken ribs, likely from Ivan’s kick. I added that to my list of things to settle after I had dealt with Harvey.

  Affairs were the usual culprit in a spousal murder. I knew that Harvey was a computer savant so I didn’t try to directly hack him. Instead I dug into his employees; affairs usually start at the office. I found nothing beyond the fact he seemed to be a thoughtful employer, always remembering his employee’s birthdays, even their children’s birthdays. In short, everything I wasn’t. I had no idea when Dogsbody or Sam or any of the rest of them had been born, nor did I give a damn.

  I managed to break into his accounting program, though I was pretty sure an alert had been sent. I wasn’t going to have much time, but fortunately I got lucky. Harvey had his accounting service pay his personal bills. If he had a mistress, a gambling habit, a cok
e addiction, I could find it. But before I jumped back out I noticed something far more interesting than his green fees at the Dyker Beach Golf Course, or the large stuffed unicorn he had, presumably, bought for his daughter, or the bouquet of roses.

  His company was hemorrhaging money.

  He had been pulling money out of Belinda’s company, and he was trying to hide it with creative bookkeeping. Which would explain why Grekov hadn’t been getting his cut. If Grekov had threatened Belinda, she would have tried to figure out why her profits were dropping. She discovered the embezzlement and confronts Harvey. The rest of the tale told itself.

  I hit erase on the laptop, burned the hard drive back to factory settings, leaned back in my chair, and considered. So … did I take this to the bumbling cops? No. A direct approach was needed. I went back to work and located the Yamaguchi’s home address. Another search revealed that the condo had been purchased in 2010. I went through the archive pictures from the real estate company so I could study the rooms.

  The placement of furniture is always a danger for me. Fortunately there was a very nice photo of the master bath. I was still taking a risk by teleporting in, but my search hadn’t revealed any filings for building permits so I was reasonably sure the large Roman style tub hadn’t been moved.

  I muttered a prayer to a god I didn’t believe in and teleported—

  * * *

  —And landed, mercifully, in a bathtub that was dry and person free. I stepped out and morphed back into my own form. It hurt like a mother with my broken ribs. I noted the expensive fixtures, the His and Her sinks. The His was filled with soap scum and whiskers congealed onto the side. There were a few pieces of blood- stained toilet paper wadded up and strewn across the countertop, revealing a shaky hand with the razor. The marble tile around the front of the toilet showed pee stains. It didn’t look like Harvey had been doing all that well since he’d become a murderer.

  I slipped through into the master bedroom. The bed was unmade and there was a sour smell. I moved on, searching for Harvey. I had to hope the daughter was like most teenage girls and out with friends, doing after school activities, or in her room with the door closed and texting with someone.

  The condo was very quiet which made the ticking of the large grandfather clock seem very loud and very ominous. I passed an open door that showed a pretty canopy bed and a large collection of stuffed animals. The unicorn was there. Thankfully the unicorn’s owner was not.

  Harvey was in the kitchen slumped at the kitchen table. An open bottle of Bunnahabhain “40”, which retailed for around two grand, was at his elbow. Judging by the level in the bottle Harvey was not sipping. I added that to his list of crimes.

  He jumped as I walked into the room. The stainless steel surfaces in the very modern kitchen threw back my slightly distorted reflection—a dark haired man, wearing gloves, in a suit and carrying a gun. It was no wonder Harvey jumped and caught the bottle with his elbow. I got there before it completely tipped and spilled the nectar inside.

  “You… you,” he stammered and shoving back his chair he inched away from me.

  “So you know me. Good, saves time.”

  “Wha… what do you want?” It wasn’t just fear slurring his words. He was clearly pissed.

  “Well, for starters a glass. I’d rather not use yours.”

  “Uh… okay.” He tottered to a cabinet and took down another highball glass. He picked up the bottle, peered at the glass like an archer focusing on a distant target. I put away my pistol, took the bottle and poured three fingers of scotch into the glass and refilled his.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. His bones seemed to have vanished because he melted more then sat.

  “I take it that Belinda found out about your embezzlement. So is it going to be the accident defense she had a gun and when I tried to take it from her—”

  “No, no it wasn’t like that.” He started blubbering. “She was scared. She couldn’t understand why profits were down so much. It was making it hard to pay Grekov. She was crying.”

  He gulped down the scotch. I refilled his glass. “I felt so guilty so I … I confessed. Told her what I had done. She started screaming at me. That Grekov was going to come and hurt us all, and it was my fault. I was angry. She was the one who had put us in danger by getting us involved with that crook.”

  I took a sip of scotch. “So you work for Grekov too.”

  “No. I just handle IT for his companies. I’m not involved in any of that … other stuff. I’m not a criminal.”

  “Yes, you are a model of courage and rectitude. Are we getting close to the part where you kill your wife?”

  He flinched. “She called Grekov, told him what I’d done, and begged him to forgive us. She then put me on the phone. Grekov told me what I had to do to win back his trust. He wanted me to hack into banks and credit card companies. I wanted to be a hero for my daughter. Instead I was being forced to become a criminal.”

  I took another drink. Playing therapist was boring the shit out of me, but there was also an uncomfortable resonance to my own life.

  “Yes, terrible,” I snapped. “So what happened?”

  “After we hung up Belinda went to fix a drink. I got my granddad’s Luger. He fought in Europe in World War Two. They didn’t trust a Japanese guy to fight in the Pacific. He took a pistol off a dead German, brought it home as a souvenir.”

  “Boring and irrelevant,” I snapped.

  He goggled at me the continued. “I was so angry. I followed her in here and shot her. When I realized what I had done I was going to kill myself…” He threw back the scotch.

  “But you got cold feet. Or maybe that cold barrel in your mouth gave you second thoughts.”

  “I thought about Megan, my baby. To lose both her parents…” He was crying again. “I realized Grekov could help me. Get rid of the body.”

  “By framing me for murder.”

  “I didn’t know Grekov would do that,” he whined.

  “But you sure as fuck didn’t do anything to clear me!”

  “What could I do? I’d go to prison and my daughter would be alone.”

  “Where’s the gun now?”

  “Here.”

  “Good, that simplifies matters.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s get the gun. Then I’ll explain.” Fortunately he was too drunk to argue or consider where this might be going.

  He led me to a home office and took the Luger out of the bottom drawer of the desk. When he straightened, he saw I was holding my pistol. “I’ve got a gun too,” he blustered. “I could shoot you. Say you threatened me.”

  “I can assure you I have a great deal more practice with firearms then you do, I’m not pissed, and I have no compunction about killing people. As for threatening you, you are quite right. I’m going to.”

  The man had already proved he was a coward, and my demeanor can be quite menacing. He shuddered and handed me the Luger. I pocketed the ancient pistol.

  “Now, you have three options. You can go immediately to the police and confess. You’ll stand trial and go to jail, but Megan can come visit you, so she won’t be a total orphan. You can write a suicide note and finish what you started. Or I’ll kill you and write the note for you. Your choice.”

  “You … you can’t match my handwriting…”

  “Oh please, it’s 2017. Who does a hand written note today? I’ll put it on your IPad.”

  He spread his hands beseechingly, “Please, my daughter… she needs me.”

  “And my son needs me. Your daughter is fucked no matter what you do. The question is which outcome screws her up the least. I would suggest it’s daddy in jail, but it’s entirely up to you. Now, it’s late, I’m bored, and it’s decision time. So what’s it to be?”

  He stood head bowed for a long time. He then lifted Detective McTate’s card off the desk and pulled out his phone. I laid the Luger down , and backed out of the room. He might be a worm, but I wasn’t
going to risk turning my back on him. As I left I heard him say, “Detective, I… I have something to… to tell you.”

  I went into the kitchen, washed my glass and returned it to the cabinet. Pushed back in the chair, gritted my teeth and turned into Lilith and left.

  Back at the Oakwood I listened to Harvey’s confession as I stood looking out at the lights of midtown. There were still a few loose ends to settle. I returned to Cairo, grabbed Boris and dumped him on the steps of Fort Freak, the Jokertown police station. I then printed out Dominic’s incriminating emails and mailed them to Detective McTate.

  It was nearly dawn by the time I returned to my flat. I was tired and hurting and I dreaded the change. With each transformation my ribs objections had become more acute. I dry swallowed four aspirin, sucked in a deep breath, and let Lilith melt away.

  My suit had blood on it from Boris’s wounded leg. I undressed and taped my ribs. I eyed the bed and decided sleep was not attainable right now. I returned to the window and watch the sun’s rays glint off the roofs of skyscrapers. The music of the city: car horns, sirens, revving engines was muted beyond the glass. A flying ace was circling the spire of the Empire State Building.

  I had told myself I had left my family to protect them. The truth was I had only been protecting myself. I had been afraid to see love turn to disgust if Jasper ever realized who I was and what I had done. I had called Harvey a coward. I deserved the label myself.

  * * *

  They were at the breakfast table when I walked in. They looked up in surprise. Jasper flew across the room. I dropped the suitcase I was carrying as he leaped into my arms. “Daddy!”

  I held him close. Niobe’s eyes met mine across the top of his head. She took in the suitcase I was carrying and a look of satisfaction and relief filled her eyes. “Jasper, go get your satchel while I finish packing your lunch.”