Shadow and Shine (Book 2): Dark Divide Page 14

  “That’s not all. We received a copy of Ugo Ban’s speech transcript.”

  “It’s not for another hour.” Conrad looked down at his watch. Time moved fast when he was alone, but he hoped he didn’t miss the speech.

  “Two hours, actually.” She cleared her throat. “Are you okay? I don’t like this side of Conrad Greene, you’re supposed to be in the know. Remember, you’re the Constitutional Ge—”

  “What does the transcript say?”

  “The UN is giving us twenty-four hours to remove the threats inside Salt Lake City.”

  “Of course. He’s been waiting for the chance.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. He knows about the Subas. He knows about the footage. And he’s going to issue his decree on the entire state of Utah. And… we haven’t heard from Marshall.”

  Conrad spilled his coffee on his lap.

  “Did you hear me, Conrad? Marshall is gone. The decree has been issued.”

  “Who has reported from Black Tide?”

  “A memo passed my desk this morning saying Marshall missed three straight designated mission updates. He’s not tracking, anywhere. He’s gone. Everyone is gone. The other teams were ordered to update at sunrise.”

  Conrad tried to do the math in his head to figure out when the sun rose in Salt Lake City.

  “An hour ago. We’ve received nothing other than static over the airwaves.”

  “Where is President Watt?”

  “In his office, not answering calls.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “They’re all dead, Conrad. I know it. You know it.”

  “Is this a secure line?”

  “Yes.” There was a long pause before she continued, “Well, I think so. This is my phone for President’s communication. If any phone is secure in the entire world, this should be the one.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  “Oh, no. Are you telling me this could be bugged? Did we…? I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait!” Conrad said, hoping to catch her before she hung up. “What is he going to do?”

  “He’s preparing his speech to respond to Ugo Ban, our team is on complete damage control. We need to know what happened in Salt Lake. We need Marshall. Could they all be dead?”

  Conrad didn’t answer her questions, there was no way to know, and it didn’t matter in the moment. “Keep your phone close, but don’t make any other calls on this line. I’m leaving for DC, right now.”

  “I hope so, Conrad. This is serious.”

  If the UN was giving a 24 hour warning, then it was bigger than any civilian could understand. The UN didn’t lay out false threats, they were swift and concise. They didn’t negotiate or extend timeframes. If Marshall was unable to successfully complete Black Tide, the United States was about to have a threat from both outside their borders, as well as a superior threat waiting in Utah. President Watt should have reached out to Conrad as soon as there was a hint of failure for Black Tide.

  Conrad left his coffee cup on the porch railing and headed towards his car.

  *******

  Acacia Gold

  6:45 a.m. (Western time)

  Las Vegas, NV

  After yesterday’s interrogation, Acacia thought Detective Unibrow was an awful person. He tried to push her around to get answers she didn’t have. He threatened her with Silvio Peretti. And then, he came to visit her at her favorite bar, just to tease her about Peretti coming after her.

  After spending the last ten hours with him, Acacia learned he was worse than she imagined. He dragged her along for his search for clues while refusing to call her by her name, instead she was either whore or dumb hooker. Several times he pointed at random men and asked, “Is he one of yours?” while they walked close to the crime scene in broad daylight. He wasn’t even trying to be funny. Hadley was cruel, rude, and filled with hate. He thought he was a good guy, but Acacia never met a man more awful. No one, even the worst of johns, made her feel this low.

  She should have never went to Hadley in the first place. Peretti killed people who snitched on him. Whether she did it on purpose or not, Peretti would cut her in pieces and leave her in the desert. The second she called the police, she might as well have nailed her own coffin.

  Acacia stopped and stared at the blood stained curb. “This is where they tackled her.” She pointed up the street. “and that’s where I watched it happen.” She was done following him. He could be mad at her all he wanted, but she couldn’t walk around anymore.

  “What did they look like?” He put his hands on his hips. Acacia expected him to start tapping his shoe. If the hall-monitor in high school was created by the devil and fed only meat and potatoes, he would look, and act, like Detective Roy Hadley.

  “Nobody. Just… Just average people.” She tried to think back to the attack. Her brain did her the favor of blotting out most of the memories. It was too dark to remember faces anyway, but she still remembered enough to feel sick talking about it.

  “Black, white, Italian?”

  “They were white.

  “And you’re sure none of them were Italian?”

  “The driver was Italian. He was sleazy, nervous, and ugly. I know a bad john when I see him. He was bad news.”

  “But the attackers? Maybe you were drugged up, or in a stupor… whores do that, right?”

  Acacia didn’t answer him.

  Roy shook his head and continued, “Are you sure they weren’t Italians? Even fair skinned?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Silvio Peretti only employs Italians. If they’re not full-blooded, off the big nose boat, they don’t run with the mob.”

  “And you’re the expert?”

  “I know Peretti. Chased him for years. I know more about him than any living man. My partner and I were building a case, associating him with over two dozen murders.” The ugliness in his face washed away a little, revealing the hint of a pleasant man. He smiled at the thought of putting Peretti in jail.

  “How?”

  “We found the murder weapon in his house.”

  “You were in Silvio Peretti’s house?” Nothing about visiting the devil’s house was a good idea. No matter how much Hadley could hate him, he was a fool to go there.

  She wasn’t going to let him drag her there next. She would jump into traffic.

  “Not everyone has to open their legs to get an invitation,” Hadley cleared his throat and walked towards his car. “And we weren’t invited. Markie, my partner, broke in and found the infamous butcher knife.”

  “And that’s illegal.”

  “Says the whore whose life is illegal.”

  “Doesn’t make what you’re doing right though,” it felt good to call him a hypocrite.

  “When you’re fighting against a man like Peretti, you either lose from playing by the rules, or you do what’s necessary. Markie made his decision, he took the knife and we came up with a plan.”

  “How’s that working out?”

  “Markie is missing. So is his wife. You saw an Italian driving his car two nights ago.”

  “And that guy is dead.”

  “Who you think is dead, and now I’m getting text messages from Markie’s phone.”

  Acacia tried her best to look at Hadley with the look that asked, are you really this stupid? She said, “Picture messages with severed body parts. Which doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

  Hadley answered, “To find what I missed.”

  “There’s nothing left but the stain.”

  Hadley shook his head. “There has to be something. He can’t get away with this. I can’t let him. I won’t let him. Peretti is a rabid dog, he thinks he can get away with anything, he gets away with everything. No more. Every time we get close, he finds a way to snake himself out. No more. No. More. I won’t let him. I’m done.” He stared up at the sun, and smiled. “Yeah, I’m done. No more.”

  Acacia saw men lose themselves in front of her before, usually i
t was depression or anxiety after sleeping with a working girl. They talked to themselves, rambled about fairness, or gave themselves an excuse for their transaction, but she never saw someone smile like Hadley. He looked directly into the sun without squinting, like his eyes were looking somewhere else.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

  His car shook as he lurched into the driver’s seat. Acacia opened her door and sat down too, but the car didn’t move.

  “Are you sure you want to come with me? I’m handing in my resignation, and then I’m finding the dog, and I’m putting him down.”

  It was the only place she felt safe. If hooking taught her anything, it was that she could handle being disrespected, if there was a benefit. If Peretti was after her, which she fully believed he was, then she needed to stay close to the one man who hated him enough to kill him.

  ********

  Tink Morris

  Morning

  North of Salt Lake

  It was years since the last time Tink hurt another person. He cut off his association with Uncle Grady because he couldn’t bear to have his sister learn the truth. He did a lot of bad things; hurt innocent people, stole money, and even killed a few men who had it coming. Little Mona didn’t need to grow up with a bad man. He left that life and never wanted to look back.

  It was different now. He was going to kill the soldiers as soon as he had the chance. Nino will get it. Jordan will get it. Marshall, the only man worse than Grady, was going to get it. Any other soldiers who got in the way, too. Tink would wait for the chance, but he was ready to put them all in the ground.

  Nino ran his mouth about being in control and taunted Shelly about Tink’s face. He threatened, “Speed up, or I’ll ruin that pretty mouth.” Tink couldn’t see him, but he could tell Nino was smiling. His arrogance was going to get him killed.

  But not yet. The time wasn’t right. Mona was still in danger. So were the others. Tink would get revenge, give them back what they gave him, but not until the opportunity presented itself. He could wait, shoot, he could wait with a smile since he knew what was coming. Good things come to those who wait, bad things come to those who deserve it.

  The bag over his head made it hard to tell how the rest of his body felt. His feet were fine, even though they walked several miles. The pain of his wounds should’ve felt worse. Swelling should’ve made his jaw ache and hurt with each step. And no one takes that many kicks to the balls and walks that far.

  Yet, he felt fine. His body didn’t hurt. It was like nothing happened.

  He rubbed his tongue against his broken teeth. So much for his pretty smile.

  *******

  Constitutional General Conrad Greene

  1200 (Eastern time)

  Frederick, MD

  “I’m sorry, Colonel, President Watt is occupied with more pressing matters,” Arthur Hale said. Conrad’s patience with the old mule was running out.

  “Hale, I am the Constitutional General of the United States Military. I demand to speak to the President.”

  “You’re in no position to threaten. The President is busy preparing his next speech. You were told to remain at your cabin until tomorrow, the President will call you after his speech,” Hale said

  “I’ll be in DC in a few hours. I’ll turn the television off myself.”

  “As I said, Colonel, the President will ca—”

  Conrad hung up. He wasn’t willing to listen to Secretary General Arthur Hale. Hale was interrupting National Security due to his shortsighted reasoning. He constantly stood in the middle of Conrad and President Watt with an imaginary responsibility to protect the President. Hale viewed Conrad as a threat, or a hindrance, despite Conrad’s friendship. He didn’t act the same towards Marshall either, which made Conrad wonder if there was more to the tension than he thought.

  His phone vibrated.

  It wasn’t President Watt, it wasn’t Arthur Hale.

  “Reyes.” Conrad answered. The first known contact with an operator involved in Black Tide. Conrad was relieved to know it was Reyes.

  “Sir, oh thank goodness, you’re still alive.”

  “Where is Marshall? Chatra? The rest of the troops?”

  “Marshall killed Chatra. Did you know about Omega?”

  “Omega?”

  “Omega is their secret operation. Kill all members of Red Wave. Where are you, sir?”

  “Headed to DC. What are you talking about?”

  “The President knows about it, sir. Be careful.”

  “What are you talking about, Reyes?”

  “Omega. Ask President Watt about Omega. An operation to clear members of Red Wave.”

  “What happened to Black Tide?”

  “What? I don’t know. I. I—”

  Conrad could hear the muffled voices of two men speaking while exchanging the phone. One voice was recognized as Reyes, but the other was unfamiliar. Whoever it was, they were giving Reyes directions.

  “Reyes, who is that?”

  More muffled voices.

  Finally, a new voice came “General Greene, my name is Seth Porter. It’s good to hear your voice, sir.”

  Conrad searched through his memory bank for the name, but it came up empty. The man’s statement of good to hear your voice was odd, but Conrad attributed it to the insecurity. He was a younger man, in his early twenties, and sounded uncomfortable with having Conrad on the other line.

  Conrad asked, “Seth? What can I do for you?”

  “I need protection, actually,” Seth said and cleared his voice.

  “Oh…” Conrad thought for a moment. “Please explain.”

  “I’m the lone survivor of Salt Lake City.”

  *******

  Asher Blake

  Afternoon

  Near the Utah-Wyoming Border

  Asher and his brother were the first people to experience The Pulse. His ability to fight the Wolves began in the middle of an attack. His body moved in ways it never had before, but it was natural. The Blake Brothers became flames fueled by the desire to protect Lucy. If there was any decency inside Ben, they would have been unstoppable together. If Asher wouldn’t have fallen in love with Ben’s wife, they would have ended the Wolves within a week. If Lucy were still alive, Asher would ask for forgiveness and leave her. He robbed himself of those opportunities. There was no one else to blame.

  Instead, Asher was a prisoner. He and the others were captured by inferior men. Marshall talked a big game and his fists were as strong as any human. The soldiers believed they were in control. The only reason they were alive is because Mona allowed it. Which was fine, Asher understood the value of obedience. He wasn’t their prisoner, he was Mona’s.

  Back in the bomb shelter, she reminded him to be patient. There was value in conflict, it drove the story forward. Shortly after, she made him promise to not hurt the soldiers. He had no idea who she was talking about, but before he could ask, Marshall and his goons showed up. She said fighting back would lead to death. Not their death, but the death of everyone. It didn’t make sense, but Asher listened.

  Mona could see what was going to happen. Her timing sucked, but she was willing to share her knowledge. Asher trusted her judgement and would obey the rules she put in front of him. When she told him to bite his tongue and allow the soldiers to push him around, he didn’t have to understand in order to follow. She was the altruism the world needed. Asher wasn’t going to do anything to put her in jeopardy. She brought out Asher’s decency. She would do the same for the world.

  It wasn’t easy though. Watching the abuse of Tink and Shelly was driving him crazy. Listening to Marshall’s agro-attitude towards the group as if they were dangerous, instead of his only hope of survival, was testing his patience. These men made demands and threats, while Asher’s group remained calm. Chatty, but calm.

  Asher hoped the others didn’t view him as a coward. He remained peaceful and allowed the soldiers to live because Mona allowed it. She was supe
rior to Asher. They would see his obedience and find trust in it. The last thing he wanted was to lose the respect of his friends based off a misunderstanding.

  Asher lived with the blood that ran through Ben’s veins, the fuel which begged to crush his opposition. Their time was coming, but Asher learned enough from his brother’s death to know there is no turning back after letting go of decency.

  Asher closed his eyes and listened to Nino’s heartbeat. The soft melody could have put him to sleep, if he slept anymore. Instead, Asher allowed the gentle rhythm to distract him from the rage brewing inside. His anger, disappointment, and regret would never fuel his Pulse. But her decency would. Asher would fight for her. And he would not fight for her, as well.

  *******

  Roy Hadley

  1:30 p.m. (Western time)

  Las Vegas, NV

  The hooker came to Roy because she was scared. She walked in last night with her makeup drizzled down her cheeks and dried pieces of tissue paper under her nose. For all the trashy-glitter and cheap-glamour, she looked better now than she did in the bar. At least now, it was honest. At least now, there was a charming smile. At least now, Roy saw a real human being instead of a play-toy for anyone with seven bucks.

  Acacia was the kind of person who lied so much she convinced herself she was honest. Her entire life was an act. Roy met plenty of narcissists in his life, but this broad took the cake. Everything revolved around the imaginary world she built for herself. Even when she told Roy about the murder, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head, but then pretended to try to make a joke of it, saying, “the real reason he died is because he drove a Prius, let’s be honest.”

  The emotional reward of Roy’s decision to resign began to wane, but he was resolved. There was no reason for him to belong to a force built on a foundation of ineptitude. Chief Jackson has been around since the seventies, yet how many major cases has he helped solve? What good has he brought in the city? Figures and numbers could be put through the washer and come out clean. The reality was, more people died in Vegas each year. Peretti, the kingpin sociopath, murdered more than anyone else.