The Specter (10 page)

As he neared, the passenger door lock clicked. Aaron swung the door open and hopped inside.

“Daniel,” Aaron said, nodding at him. Alex and Benjamin Russell, two brothers who were the smartest students ever to come out of his dojo, sat in the back. He loved the relationship they had with Daniel. There were days in the dojo that he couldn’t tell that Daniel wasn’t just another brother, the way the three of them horsed around.

Having them here was an honor.

“Tell us what you need, Aaron,” Benjamin said, “and we’ll do it. Just say the word.”

He looked from Alex to Benjamin and back to Daniel.

“What is it?” Daniel asked, impatient.

He knew Daniel would see the pain in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hide from these men.

“My sister, Joanne … is dead,” Aaron said.

“What?” Daniel slapped the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry. How could that be?”

“What are you saying?” Benjamin asked.

Alex didn’t say anything. He was the quietest of the three, but also the most dangerous. He had a ninja quality in his approach to the art of karate. He sat in the back of the camper van cracking his knuckles while he listened.

“The police called me tonight and said they needed to ‘talk’,” he said, using air quotes to emphasize the word. “They wouldn’t tell me why, just that they needed to talk. When I asked Detective Folley directly if the police had found her body, he didn’t answer. It all leads back to this strip club somehow.”

“How?” Daniel asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. That’s why I asked you guys to come. I was here earlier today and they kicked me out. A dancer said that Joanne left here three nights ago with a rich British guy, but I have new information that the dancer probably lied.” He addressed the two in the back. “Also, this British guy paid the club off to remain silent. For whatever reason, he can’t have people know he was here. I have no idea what that means, but I want answers and someone inside that building knows something. That’s why you’re here.”

Benjamin nodded. “Go on. Tell what us we’re to do.”

Alex finished cracking his fingers and started in on his neck. It was unnerving, but Aaron understood that was how Alex prepared. He had a process and it worked for him.

“All I want to do is find the owner and get him to talk to me. I need information, that’s it. But since I predict we’ll have trouble with the bouncers, I need them to be put to sleep,” he motioned to the pressure point on his neck, making it clear what he meant. “No one gets hurt. Let them attack first so it’s all self-defense. We’re in, we’re out. That’s it. I will talk to the DJ and have the public escorted out, first. The club will be ours for however long it takes to get answers. Then we leave and I’ll go and see what the police wanted me for and tell them what we found out. Deal?”

All three men nodded and held up scarred fists to tap in unison.

“Let’s roll.”

Aaron led them to the back door. He opened it and stepped inside, Daniel on his heels, Alex and Benjamin following close behind.

The first bouncer was a different one from earlier.

Aaron smiled. “I was wondering, where’s the bathroom?” He lifted his hand as the large bouncer turned to point. He found the exact spot on the man’s neck and jabbed with the proper pressure needed to enable a three to five minute sleep.

“I thought you said let them attack first,” Benjamin said.

“That was for you guys so you don’t get in trouble. Don’t worry about me. Now, when he wakes, put him back out. If he becomes trouble, knock him out—just no coma. I’ve had enough of that.” He waited until Benjamin acknowledged him. “Also, don’t let anyone else enter. Within a few minutes, I’ll have the customers filing out through that door. Make sure they leave.”

He headed into the main part of the club with Daniel and Alex right with him. Train was singing
Soul Sister.

How appropriate,
Aaron thought.

Another bouncer sat at the bar, the one with the brass knuckles from the parking lot earlier. Before he could say a word, Alex slipped around him, jumped up onto a table, spun sideways and clipped the beefy man in the forehead with one the softest kicks Aaron could claim to have seen. It snapped the man’s head back fast enough to have the brain make contact on the inside of his skull, knocking him out in less than a second. If karate could be ballet, Alex would be the prima donna.

Alex landed on his feet and shrugged at Aaron as the bouncer slipped off his bar stool.

“Sorry, he looked like trouble,” Alex explained.

“Be cool,” Aaron cautioned.

He stepped toward the DJ booth. A few customers saw the hit on the bouncer, but no one moved. Truth was, after Alex’s flying, spinning kick, Aaron didn’t know many men who would try to stand up.

The dancer on stage slowed her performance, holding onto the pole. Everything in the club slowed down as Aaron’s adrenaline kicked in. As a specialist in the art of Shotokan karate, he was in the zone.
 

Near the DJ booth, he caught sight of another bouncer coming out of the bathroom at the back. With a quick motion of his finger, Daniel was off to add another number to the sleeping security men.

In the DJ booth, a young, tattooed man with headphones on stared at Aaron.

“Turn it off,” Aaron said.

The DJ shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Did you see what happened to the bouncer at the bar?”

The DJ nodded, his mouth hanging open.

“Do you want that to happen to you?”

The DJ flipped a switch on the panel in front of him. The club instantly fell into a deafening silence.

“Now, tell everyone to leave. There has been an emergency. All customers have to leave within one minute or my friends and I will start breaking bones. Do it now—”

Movement from behind, a shadow across the wall to his left and Aaron dropped toward the floor. A beefy arm swung over his head so close he felt the breeze part his hair.

As Aaron neared the floor, he slipped his right foot out and spun in a circle, connecting with the man’s ankles in a perfect foot-sweep. As the fourth bouncer lost his balance, he grabbed at the door for purchase, found none and fell hard on his ass.

Aaron lifted off the floor at the same second the bouncer landed, aiming to fly over the man. He landed just behind the bouncer’s head, which he wrapped in his arms and brought him close to his chest. He locked his arms around the bouncer’s neck, resting his right bicep rested against the man’s Adam’s apple. With each flex of his arm, the bouncer choked.

Aaron leaned in and whispered in the bouncer’s ear. “I hate when people sneak up on me. It really pisses me off.”

He looked up at the DJ. “Make the announcement for everyone to leave or I will huff and I will puff and I will blow this fucking building down. Do it now.”

He flexed his bicep.

Jackson turned into the lot of the House of Lancaster and parked in a back corner spot. Hugh hadn’t eaten anything for dinner, nor had he been talkative. Jackson hated when Hugh got moody and head-fucked a problem. What Hugh didn’t get was that the brother wasn’t an issue. As soon as they were done with the strip club, they would have plenty of time to talk to the brother. Plenty of time to
torture
the brother.

“You ready?” Jackson asked.

Hugh didn’t answer or nod. He offered nothing in the way of acknowledging Jackson’s presence. He just sat there, staring out the windshield.

“I guess that means you are,” Jackson said.

Jackson climbed into the back of the van and started loading the MP5s they had brought along. He also grabbed three small containers of C-4.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hugh snapped.

“He talks. Holy shit,” Jackson said as he checked the clip on his sidearm.

“Look,” Hugh gestured out the windshield.

Jackson crab-walked back to the driver’s seat. “What the fuck
is
going on?”

People were filing out the back door of the club. One man after another, some drunk, some running for their cars, others heading out to the street, probably in search of cabs.

“What’s this?” Jackson asked out loud. “Something’s not right. Have they been tipped off?”

“No one knew we were coming except Clive,” Hugh said. “This isn’t his work. He needs casualties.”

Jackson was happy Hugh was talking again, but he hated that it took something going wrong to bring his voice back.

Fucking negative idiot
, he thought to himself.

“Doesn’t change a thing,” Jackson added. “We blow the joint and kill whoever’s inside, especially the employees. The customers were supposed to be collateral so it’s probably a good thing they’re leaving.”

Hugh grabbed his door and jumped out of the van.

“Hey!” Jackson shouted after him. “Where are you going?” He slipped open the side door and hopped out to stand beside Hugh. “What are you doing?”

“That fucking brother has something to do with this. That’s my guess.”

“How?” Jackson asked, shaking his head at the notion. “No way. He got kicked out earlier today. Why would he come back and make the customers leave? He’s not psychic.”

“I don’t know. I can’t see his car, but something tells me I’m right.”

“Okay, let’s go in, take care of business and if you’re right, we’ll grab him and sweat him in the van.”

Hugh started for the back door of the club as customers continued to file out.

“Hey, wait. You need your gun.”

“You bring it,” Hugh shouted over his shoulder.

“Shit.” Jackson grabbed as much ammunition he could carry and scrambled after his partner, the MP5 machine gun held out in front of him.

Chapter 12

Folley tried calling Aaron half a dozen times before he finally gave up. It was Angela Wheeler’s call that he regretted taking. She would be finishing up at the crime scene soon and wanting to know when she could meet Aaron. In Folley’s first year of handling missing person cases, he rarely had to make the call to inform the family of the untimely death of their missing member. Usually because homicide would take over the case, leaving Folley to look for the next missing person.

Having to deal with someone like Aaron Stevens made him feel inept. He was good as a street cop. When they offered him small roles as an undercover cop in narcotics, things had been okay. His real strength was in investigation. He was a detail-oriented man. Just over twelve months ago, he got moved over to Twelve Division to oversee missing persons cases. In that time, he still had open cases, cold cases, and a few he’d found through a solid Internet search. The worst case he recalled in recent memory was the thirteen-year-old girl who had gone missing after arguing with her mother about Internet usage. She was located two weeks later in a motel room with the predator who had lured her away from her safe home through a false Facebook profile.

What Folley did held value. Even if he wasn’t as gung ho as he used to be in the early days. He knew what they did at Twelve Division was a good thing. More times than not, family members were reunited and everyone moved on.

Then there were cases like Joanne Stevens. Missing three days, no clues, an irate brother, no parents and a three-day headache that Folley couldn’t shake. Had he been thinking clearly three days ago, he might have listened to the cell phone message Aaron claimed his sister had left for him the night she disappeared.

He had to face the truth. The police wouldn’t even take a missing persons report until that person was missing for at least twenty-four hours. If the missing person was an adult, they usually got the family to call all known associates and ring their cell phone and stop at local watering holes and so on and so on. The police just didn’t have the manpower to hunt down every missing person in Toronto who just wanted to be left alone for a couple days after a fight with their boyfriend or mother. There was no way they could manage that kind of load.

Calling family members to come in for positive IDs was not something any cop enjoyed, Folley the least.

He could drive to Aaron’s apartment to check and see if he was home, but he was enough of a detective to know that Aaron was in his car the last time they talked and if he didn’t want to come to the police station, it was because he had something important to do, which meant he wouldn’t be home.

“Where are you, Aaron Stevens, and what are you up to tonight?” Folley asked himself out loud.

He sat in his car outside a Starbucks sipping a café mocha, trying to piece together the next move. Once Angela put the request for his transfer through for him to assist homicide, he would be busy as hell for a few weeks. This was his only chance to talk to Aaron and get his full statement, something he reminded himself that he should have taken that morning when he’d had the chance. Angela had asked him to and now he couldn’t locate the man.