Monsters by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub

* * *

The next day, Marcone, with his big dumb Einherjaren bodyguard, was eating breakfast at an expensive sidewalk bistro in the Gold Coast when I called the number he’d given me.

He picked up a cell phone from the table and answered. “Marcone.”

“Grey,” I said. “Job’s done.”

“I saw, on the news,” he said. “You were rather thorough.”

“You approve?”

“I do.”

“Then you’re going to love this,” I said, and sent him several pictures.

From another bistro across the street, wearing a very different face and body, I watched Marcone look at the images.

There were six pictures: Three high powered attorneys, one corporate executive, a city councilman and a notorious religious-political activist. Each picture was identical: a look-down at a dead body with small, neat bullet holes in the temples. On the chest of each body was a computer printed photograph of the deceased, engaged in acts of brutality with one of the children.

Marcone studied the pictures for a long moment. His expression never changed. Then he picked up the phone again.

“Where did you get the pictures?”

“Surveillance feed at the brothel,” I said.

“Those people were assets.”

“Those people were a market base waiting for a supplier,” I said. “As long as they were around, you’d have this problem again and again.”

Marcone’s face was stony. After a few beats he said, “This could be considered an attack upon my interests, Mr. Grey.”

I peered at him for a second, and then I chuckled. “Hah. You didn’t know they were pedophiles, did you? Or they wouldn’t have been working for you in the first place.”

“Yet they were mine. Their loss represents considerable effort that must now be re-invested.”

“I suggest you look at this as a glass half-full,” I replied. “You didn’t lose anything but liabilities. Your rivals had already compromised them with the photographs. Probably what they had in mind all along. I just saved you years of headaches and information leaks.”

“You are playing with fire, Mr. Grey.”

“Nobody should do that,” I said. “That omelet looks tasty. But grapefruit juice?”

Marcone’s face went blank. His eyes swept up and down the street.

“See you around, Baron,” I drawled.

I finished my coffee, left the burner phone on the table, rose, and walked away.

I was just one more random face among millions. Marcone’s eyes didn’t track me.

How could they?

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