The Jake Helman Files Personal Demons (27 page)

Jake pictured Laddock and Birch without their heads. “How will you explain their disappearances?”

“We’ve doctored security footage to prove that they left the building at the end of their shift. Why they never returned to work is beyond our understanding. We’ll probably implicate the ACCL and RAGE.”

Jake noticed a briefcase on the floor, beneath a hatch in the wall.
That’s how they put them in there. How I’ll let them out
. “It’s no coincidence that you hired me for this job, is it?”

“I was impressed with how you handled yourself in that shoot-out. After all, nothing succeeds like excess. But I was more than a little intrigued when I learned that you were also one of the detectives hunting my Soul Catcher. When Kira told me of your resignation, I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“This is some kind of game to you, isn’t it?”

“I take my business very seriously, and my security needs are genuine. I’m afraid of dying, whether at the hands of those chromophobes or that demon.”

“The Grim Reaper. Does he drop by often?” Jake suspected that Tower did not know the Reaper’s true identity, which he had no intention of revealing.

“He’s made several assaults on the building, but this is the first time he ever made it through the lobby, and the first time he’s killed any of my employees.”

“So what are we doing about it?”

“I know that security is your domain, but we employ rather unique methods where the Reaper is concerned, and Ms. Thorn has increased them. I anticipate no more trouble from the Reaper in the immediate future.”

That’s what you think
, Jake thought, touching the viewing window with one hand. He could have summoned Cain right then, but he had to deal with the Cipher first.

“You’ve kept me up late waiting for you, and I’m tired. Good night.”

Turning away from the spheres, Jake left the viewing room, pausing to glance at the cylindrical machine hooked up to the wall. A mechanical breathing sound came from inside it.

Something is alive in there
.

J
ake took a long, hot shower in his unit, images flashing through his mind: Sheryl standing in line outside the Film Forum; standing at the altar in her wedding gown; and lying in bed with a relaxed smile on her face after they had made love. He remembered her scent, her voice, her touch. Breaking down in tears, he slid down the porcelain wall to the tub. After composing himself, he shut off the water, changed his clothes, and fixed a frozen dinner in the microwave. Devouring the meal, he checked his personal cell phone for messages. Just as he’d expected, Edgar had called. Sighing, he turned on the CD player and pressed an auto-dial button as a Tom Waits song drifted over the speakers.

“Detective Hopkins,” Edgar said halfway through the second ring.

“It’s me,” Jake said over the rock music.

“Where the hell are you?”

Jake looked around his unit. “I’d rather not say.”

“You had no business taking off like that. You’re in a

shitload of trouble, buddy.”

“I couldn’t help it. There was no way I could stay in that apartment.”

“You’re in a bar, aren’t you?”

Bingo
. “Can you blame me?”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll join you.”

“Thanks, but I need to be alone right now.”

“It doesn’t work like that. I have to bring you in for questioning.”

“It’s after midnight, and I’m not exactly in the mood.

I’ll come in tomorrow morning at nine.”

Edgar sighed. “All right. I hate to put you through this at all, but it’s got to be done. Don’t be late.”

Jake massaged the bridge of his nose. “Where in the park did it happen?”

“Under that viaduct near Gracie Mansion.”

Jake knew the viaduct well. “Thanks.” Switching off the cell phone, he booted his computer. He keyed in several entries without success:
Cipher, Soul Catcher, Soul Searchers, Reaper, Grim Reaper
, and
Cain
. On a security monitor he saw Kira emerge from her office and speak to Cutler, who had relieved Graham in the security bay. She summoned an elevator and boarded it.
I still have her security card
, he reminded himself.

Glancing at the row of jewel cases on the shelf next to his computer monitor, he removed one and opened it. A blank disc gleamed inside the case. Rising from his chair, he hurried to the front door and opened it, scanning the empty corridor. He closed his door behind him, tiptoed to Kira’s unit, and waved her card at the scanner on her door. He expected her to have changed her code, but the door unlocked and he slipped inside her lair for the first time.

It had stopped raining outside and enough moonlight shone through the raised blinds in the living room for Jake to see that the units shared identical floor plans despite Kira’s position in the company. He took a flashlight he had found in his unit from his back pocket. After his experience in the subway tunnel, he never intended go anywhere without one again. The narrow beam pierced the darkness as he crossed the floor to the computer and sat down. He touched the mouse and jumped when the computer screen lit up. It had only been in “sleep” mode, and Kira had left her password logged on.

Beautiful
.

He clicked the flashlight off and slid it back into his pocket, then glanced up at the security monitors: Cutler sat alone in the security bay. Jake accessed the personnel files on the computer. First, he checked his own. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of photos of him and Sheryl, and a detailed summary of his police record—quite a bit more information than his official file contained. He found no files for Kira or Tower, but he discovered one for Russel. Removing the blank CD from its jewel case, he inserted it into the burner and downloaded the file. He went to the menu and clicked on “Documents,” where he found a file labeled “Project Afterlife.” He downloaded that, too, but the large file took longer.

Glancing at the security monitors, he froze as Kira stepped off the elevator. Turning right, she entered the utility corridor. She must have been heading to the Control Room or the conference room.

Jake’s fingers danced over the keyboard. He tried searching for some of the same keywords he had used on his own computer, with no results. Then he tried “Bio-genetic” and a file opened. He sat staring at an assortment of horrifying, photo-realistic images: monsters of different shapes, sizes, and configurations; creatures with tentacles, fish lips, and scorpion stingers; beasts covered with fur, scales, and translucent membranes; things that walked, crawled, and swam. Had the company actually produced prototypes of these abominations? He recognized the creature from the globe in the Demonstration Room and clicked on its image. The screen filled with multiple angles of technical schematics of the creature, as if it were a machine instead of a living thing. The text appeared in white, over a blue background. He scanned the data, but the terminology proved too scientific for him to decipher. He scrolled down and his eyes settled on a bullet hit near the bottom of the screen:
“HYGROSCOPIC SUSCEPTIBILITY
—
SODIUM.”
He mouthed the words as he read them. Closing the page, he downloaded the file. Then he entered “Soul Catcher” and a new file opened up. The screen displayed three images of a man in his mid-to late twenties. Each photo looked different, yet they all resembled the police sketch of the Cipher. White text appeared beneath the photos, over a black background. The document included numerous medical records.

Jackpot
, he thought. He tried to download the file, but an on-screen prompt informed him that his disc had run out of memory—the “Afterlife” file had been even larger than he had thought. He pressed the
PRINT SCREEN
button on the keyboard and removed the CD from the computer as pages unfurled into the tray of the laser printer. He put the CD back into its jewel case, his eyes rising to the monitors again. Kira had returned to the security bay, carrying one of the industrial drums he had seen in the back of the Demonstration Room. He waited to see if she would go to her office or her unit. She headed toward the glass door accessing the residential corridor.

Damn it!
Only ten out of eighteen pages had emerged from the high speed printer. He counted off the seconds as two more pages slid into the tray. Kira should have been halfway down the corridor, and six pages remained to be printed. He gathered the pages that had printed so far and rolled them up as her shadow fell over the floor on the other side of the door. He switched off the monitor so the work area turned dark again. The scanner outside the door beeped as Kira manually entered her personal code into the keypad. Three pages remained to be printed.

Out of time!

He snatched another page and sprinted toward the closet door perpendicular to the front door. Behind him, another page slid into the tray.

The front doorknob turned.

He only managed to open the closet door halfway, just enough so that it would not bump against the front door. Turning sideways, he slipped into the closet, which smelled like a leather store. Falling against long black coats, he crouched among shoes and boots and pulled the door shut three-quarters of the way. A ray of light from the corridor slashed the darkness, and Kira’s shadow stretched on the floor before him. He held his breath, sweat beading on his brows. Had she heard anything?

The overhead light came on and Kira’s shadow vanished. Jake’s heart nearly burst as the last page of the document slid into the tray. Kira passed the closet, oblivious to his presence. Thank God she had not gone outside, or she might have had a coat to hang up. The drum had a metal handle, like a can of paint, and she carried it around the corner. A moment later, he heard bathwater running.

What the hell—?

With the water running, he could slip out the front door without her hearing him. But that would mean leaving the pages in the printer tray and the Soul Catcher’s file open on the computer. He pushed the door open and crept out of the closet, entering the lit unit. The living room’s tasteful decor disappointed him; he had expected to see a broom and a cauldron, not an eclectic selection of artwork from around the world. He inched toward the computer station, which afforded him a view of the bathroom door; Kira had closed it except for a crack. Snatching the remaining pages from the tray, he switched the monitor back on and closed the file and the personnel program. He only hoped that the computer would go back to sleep before Kira emerged from the bathroom. As he turned from the station, his eyes settled on the bathroom door and curiosity arose in him.

Why had Kira taken the drum into the bathroom?

He crept down the hallway, grateful that the carpeting and running water covered any sounds he made, the jewel case clutched in his left hand and the Cipher’s file in his right. If Kira opened the door, he would be unable to hide. Through the crack in the door, he saw her reflection in the vanity mirror, steam rising around her. She stripped off her bra and panties, but her sculpted body stirred no reaction in him. He didn’t want to screw her; he wanted to kill her for the role she’d played in Sheryl’s murder. She opened the medicine cabinet and he ducked back as the mirror swung in his direction. When he heard the cabinet latch shut, he returned to his peeping spot. Kira now held something that resembled a metal tong in her right hand.

She bent over, below his view, and he heard her pry off the drum’s lid. Then he heard sloshing water, accompanied by vicious hissing. Kira stood up, the tong clutching a Biogen from the Demonstration Room. The foot-and-a-half-long creature hissed at her, its teeth slick with anticipatory slime, its bulbous red eyes blazing with hunger. Its body twitched like a powerful snake, curling around Kira’s wrist in an effort to force her to release it.

Kira shushed the creature and stroked the top of its head with one finger. It snapped its jaws at her and she slid her hand behind its head. Its body released her wrist, its movements less violent, and it curled itself into concentric rings around her left breast, obscuring her nipple.

“That’s better,” she said with a smile.

Jake’s stomach churned. Kira stepped over the edge of the tub, her foot slicing through the steaming water. She dipped out of view and he heard her settle into the bath. Crouching lower, he peered through the keyhole. Kira lay in the tub, her head against the tiled wall and her knees visible above the tub’s edge. She held the tong between her legs. Jake could not see her hands or the Biogen, but he heard thrashing in the water. When Kira closed her eyes and moaned, he recognized the sound all too well. Clamping one hand over his mouth, he tasted bile climbing up the back of his throat. He staggered backward and fled the unit, crumpling the documents in his hand.

J
ake awoke with a fever and a sore throat before his alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. He popped two aspirins and gargled with a glass of saltwater. After his shower he dressed in sneakers, blue jeans, and a black sweater. He checked local online news sites: Sheryl’s murder had made the headlines, which announced that the Cipher had struck again. He concealed his Glock inside his three-quarter-length leather coat.

Back in black
.

Graham looked up from his security station when Jake entered the security bay at 8:30.

“I’m taking a personal day,” Jake said, turning in the walkie-talkie that Graham had given him upon leaving the Soul Chamber the previous night.

Looking surprised, Graham set the walkie-talkie into its charger. “Does Ms. Thorn know that?”

“There was a death in my family. According to the HR book, I’m entitled to a week’s bereavement, but I’ll be back this evening. If she wants to scold me, she can do it then.”

Graham’s eyes showed suspicious concern. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. I need to check something in the Control Room before I leave.”

Graham nodded. “Whatever you say.”