The Darkness by Jason Pinter

Author:Jason Pinter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Drug traffic, Suspense, Murder, Journalists, New York (N.Y.), Political, Crime, Murder victims, Parker, Mystery fiction, General, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Henry (Fictitious character), Brothers
ISBN: 9780778326717
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2009-11-30T10:00:00+00:00

Chester led Morgan across the first floor, toward a

sign marked Restrooms. Morgan followed, but slowed

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191

down when Chester turned toward the door to the women's bathroom.

"Um, dude, you can't go in there."

Chester turned around, looked at Morgan like he'd

sprouted another head.

"You're really going to question me? Now?"

Morgan felt a chill travel down his spine. He simply

shook his head, and whispered, "Sorry."

Stupid, Morgan thought. His gut reaction, of course,

was to question why the hell they were going into the

ladies' bathroom in a nightclub at seven in the morning.

On the surface, not the most egregious question to be

asking. But Morgan should have known better.

So when Chester pushed open the door to the women's

room, Morgan followed obediently behind.

The women's room was cleaner than most clubs, especially considering it was known for being a veritable

petrie dish of chemical indulgences. There was an irony

in that the club was owned by Shawn Kensbrook, who

was as clean as they came. Hell, the guy became a

regular on the Today show after Athena Paradis died.

One of those celebrities, like Puff Daddy or P. Diddy or

whatever the hell his name was now who skyrocketed

to fame after the death of someone close. And when

fame came knocking, the mourning period lasted all of

about two more seconds before the checks started

rolling in.

Kensbrook himself was clean, but the Kitten Club

itself was as dirty as a public restroom. And like a

public restroom, Morgan held his nose when he took

one whiff of the foul odor that permeated this particular restroom.

He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but got an

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idea when Chester walked over to a closed stall door

clearly marked Out of Order.

Morgan followed, peeking over Chester's shoulder as

he pushed the stall door open.

Yup, that was it. No doubt whatever had died had done

so in this stall.

The toilet seat itself was covered in a brown foulness

that nearly made Morgan retch. The wall behind it was

chipping, the plaster coming loose. The metal toilet paper

holder was rusted and gross, and the floor tiles had hints

of yellow that reminded Morgan of writing his name

without hands on snow days in his youth.

Without hesitation, Chester stepped through the rusted

door and stood over the toilet.

"Dude," Morgan said, "that's pretty nasty. I'm sure

there's a working one in here that doesn't look like something out of Trainspotting. "

Chester appeared to ignore him, instead leaning forward.

Morgan couldn't make it out, but Chester was apparently

doing something against the wall, either scratching it with

his fingernails or pushing on something, he couldn't tell

what.

Suddenly Chester stepped back, and Morgan heard a

brief clicking noise before the entire compartment--the

toilet and the wall behind it--simply slid backward, revealing a walkway behind it.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Morgan said. "Who

are you, James Bond?"

"Guess I got the blond hair right," Chester said. "Come

on."

Morgan stepped into the passageway. It was a long

narrow hallway, metal on both sides, no deviations. At the

end of the hallway stood a simple metal door. There was

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193

no doorknob, no metal slats. Nothing except two video

cameras perched above the doorway, each pointed down

to capture whoever was about to enter.

"Who's back there?" Morgan said.

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