This is the fourth story in a series studying the nature of evil and its practitioners. If you are a new subscriber, I recommend you read the previous stories before this one. NOTE: these characters use some salty language in keeping with their persona and role.
“Free him”
“Pe bune?” An incredulous frown bent Mihai’s face. “Seriously?”
“I said I want to free him.” Richard’s hatchet face, sharp and gaunt, turned like a shard’s fin back to the computer screen, one of nine huge monitors covering the wall of a windowless room. The buzzy and strobey colors filled it with a morbid, blue glow. Financial sites were on some, weather on another, news on the rest. The middle one on the bottom was the one Richard used for his daily work.
“This is his third kill. Brutal, malicious. He is perfect. Free him.” Richard ticked an anvil chin at each period, emphasizing his order.
Mihai opened his small hands to his sides, “But, Richard, we don’t even know how to find this man. The cops can’t find him, how can we?”
Mihai eyes flexed left at Leonard leaning against a blue wall tacked with news clippings, expired coupons and a cat calendar from 2006. “And I don’t exactly have Sherlock Holmes for a deputy.”
“Just gotta bag on me, eh, Mihai?” Leonard mumbled. “So you work for CSI Dallas now?”
“What is CSI?” Mihai looked perplexed. He turned back to Richard. “Still, we are not cops, Maestru.”
Richard sighed, “Leonardo can smell very well now. Maybe you could track this murderer like we did in the old times?”
“Perhaps,” said Mihai. “Perhaps. But the air is not fresh and religious like in the old country. There are too many lies in the wind, too much anger.”
Leonard pulled is back off the wall. “Yeah, but hatred like that should stink pretty bad.”
“Ah, but you are wrong, Ucenic,” Richard said, gently. “This man does not hate. He doesn’t even know them. He just thinks killing will feed him somehow.”
“Then why didn’t he just slit her throat? He didn’t have to stab her a thousand times to kill her.”
Mihai stepped into the blue light of the monitor wall. “The redneck has a point, Richard. And she was only stabbed forty-two times, by the way. I have told you a million times not to exaggerate.”
“Boys, boys, cruelty is the sugar on the sacrament.” Richard smiled. “It makes the bloodiness delectable. He wants to savor it, but cannot. And he won’t stop. None of them do. This is something we can use.”
Mihai leaned over a chair and squinted at the screen. “Let me read it again.”
Mihai’s eyes skated. “Says here: ‘Police can find no connection between the victims of two similar stabbings last month, but the killer’s methods are the same.” He scanned more: “In each case, the killer’s rage was manifest, the police spokesman said.”
Mihai scoffed and blew a small raspberry. “How can they know he rages?”
“Exactly.” Richard nodded. “He just likes the brutality!”
“They say they have no clues, no CCTV of the incidents. That is hard to believe.”
Mihai’s eyes caught something on the upper right screen.”Ooo! Microsoft is doing well today, buna!”
Part II
The Pacifica was pointed north once again while Alice Cooper sang, “No more, mister nice guy,” on Lone Star 92.5. Classic Rock was the one thing Leonard and Mihai had in common. The lyrics made Leonard feel bold.
“Why does Richard think this guy will be good for us?” Leonard asked, as the dingy blue Pacifica glided through central Dallas.
“He doesn’t know that for sure,” Mihai said, swerving to avoid several potholes. “This guy just reminds him of himself and thinks we can use help in the office.”
“Seems like he is taking a risk.”
“He took a risk on you. A big risk.”
“Yeah, but I was already working in the Wichita Falls office.”
“You worked for Wichita Falls? Why did I not know that?”
“Because you’re a prick and never bothered to ask.”
“Ah, come now Ucenic, don’t talk like that. Tell me, was it the Wichita sons that freed you?”
“Yeah, it was them.”
“They must have seen something in you. What was it?”
“They never really said, but I think it was because I killed a kid.”
“Murderers are everywhere and come cheap. There must be more than that. Tell me the story.”
Leonard checked Mihai’s face; he seemed sincere enough.
“I held up this liquor store I had been watching for a while. There was this kid, college kid, who worked there nights, I figured it would be a push-over and it was.”
“So you just blasted the poor kid for fun?”
“No, no, nothing like that. Nothing crazy. I was standing there watching him fill a bag with cash when I noticed this open notebook sitting there. The kid was like an art student or something. He had sketched all kinds of bottles, people with wine, people smiling. I mean, these things were perfect, dude. And that is when I knew I had to do it”
“Because he could draw your face?”
“Yeah.”
“Cold and cunning. I see why Wichita was interested. You are not so dumb a redneck after all.”
“No, I am. I just don’t like you to call me that.”
“Frate!.. humility and pride all in one. Humility is for the slaves. But, please Leonardo, don’t ever say something like that in front of Richard. He will punish you.”
They let the final minutes pass in a mild cyan silence before they arrived on time at 9 pm. The parking lot was empty, still tainted by murder, and lit by dim yellow sodium vapor lamps. Leonard sensed Mihai was tense.
“I think we should walk around.” Mihai pulled in the darkest spot he could find. They took care not slam the doors.
“Lets just walk slow,” Mihai whispered. They walked past the first street lamp, its yellow cone of light gathering the first moths of summer. Leonard winced every time Mihai’s Florsheim’s popped on grit or glass. “Dude, don’t you ever wear tennis shoes?”
“Only when I play tennis,” Mihai hissed. “Pay attention to your work. Why are we trying to be quiet anyway?”
“I don’t know. Why are you so nervous?”
“Because I don’t think we will find shit.” He paused, “I don't want to disappoint Richard. He is not so nice when he is disappointed.
Leonard’s head swayed and he breathed deep. “I’m getting nothing.
“Nor am I.”
“Where was she killed?”
Mihai pointed to the far corner of the lot bounded by shabby oleanders. “Over there I think.”
Leonard stepped ahead of Mihai toward a dark spot on the cracking pavement. A breath stuck and he nearly coughed. “Oh, man, this reeks. Hate. Smells like ass.”
“I smell it, too,” said Mihai, “but it could have been hers. Try harder. We should smell his ecstasy.”
“It seems like I would smell a lot of fear.”
“Like I said, the hate could be hers. Perhaps she was a tough lady. I don’t smell anything else”
“I do.”
“Ectasy?”
“No. This is weird, but I think it’s shame.”
Mihai’s scoff was cut short by red flashes. He saw Leonard stiffen and turn his head toward the line of oleanders.
“Don’t you run you stupid redneck!” He hissed.
The two Dallas police cars had approached them silently, lights out. “Leonardo, keep your head. I will handle things.”
High beam lights held them like arms. Two silhouettes approached. “Returning to the scene of the crime, boys?”
“Very funny, gentlemen,” Mihai said. “This is no longer crime scene. We can be where ever we want.”
“Suspicious as hell, though, isn’t it? Let’s see your IDs.”
A tall and very Texan officer held his flashlight close to Leonard’s old driver’s license. “Leonard, your license expired five years ago, pal. Is this a good address?”
“That’s my mom’s place. I don’t live there. I live with Mihai. And I don’t drive anymore.”
“Then get a Texas ID card. This picture doesn’t even look like you… you’ve lost a lot of weight.” The officer studied Mihai’s license. “Mihai, is this address good?”
“Yes, it is both residence and business.”
“What is your business?”
“We run a news and social media site on crime and the paranormal. Bloodletting.com.”
“So you are here to see where an innocent woman was stabbed fifty times by a maniac?”
“Well, it was forty-two times, and yes, of course we are here for that. Our readers love this stuff.”
“Some sick mutha-fuggers.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Not them, I mean you two assholes… and you sound like Count Chocula.”
“Count Choc?” Mihai stanched his perplexed anger. “I am from Romania, I can’t help it.” Mihai grinned a toothy-blue smile. The officer flinched into himself and backed away, still holding up their ID’s like a poker hand.
Mihai and Leonard stood alone in the lights while the cops checked for warrants. A few minutes passed when a different officer returned with their cards. “All is ok, except for you, Leonard.”
“Ah, shit, what?”
“Your mother filed a missing person’s report three years ago. We are obligated to call her.”
“I don’t want her to know where I live, officer. We don’t get along.”
“That’s your right, asshole, but we still have to tell her we made contact. You gents have a good night.”
“And you as well, officer,” Mihai replied. “I will get my friend here to call his mother.”
“And get an ID card.”
“Of course, that as well.”
Mihai watched the police drive away before moving. “Well done, Leonardo.”
“Dude, good thing I don’t have any warrants.”
“If you had any warrants, Wichita Falls would never have freed you.”
Mihai turned to the dark stain on the pavement. “What did you mean earlier, you smell ‘shame?’ How would you know what shame smells like? When have you ever been ashamed of anything?”
Leonard pulled in a breath. “I don’t smell it anymore. Cops ruined it.” He paused and pushed himself into the oleanders. “But there is hatred in here. It has to be his if it is in these bushes.”
“I smell it too. He must have hid there for her.”
“There is more through here,” Leonard tore his way through the oleander. “Mihai, there is a trail here. It goes over to the Elm Fork. He must have walked to get here. The smell has to be all his if it is in these bushes.”
“Follow it to the river! Call me when you come out somewhere.”
Mihai trotted back to the Pacifica, trying, and failing, to light a jiggling Marlboro in his lips.
PART III
“Come get me at Farmers Branch Lane and Ford Road.”
“I am on my way. That is really far from here. Don’t move.”
“Mihai, I think I can find the house. I am close.”
“Stay put, Ucenic!”
PART IV
Leonard saw the Pacifica coming and made himself seen under a street lamp. Mihai had opened the sliding door and Leonard stepped in on the move.
“Sumbitch! That was a long walk,” Leonard gasped. “There ain’t no fuggin way that guy walked that far! He must have rode a bike.”
“You stink like swamp water. We have only two hours before sunrise. We should go.”
“Not yet, dude, we are really close. Turn left here. Put down the windows.”
Mihai was quick. “I can smell it, too. You are right.”
“Told ya, bro. Slow down. Turn left again.”
“It is ahead.” Mihai pulled in air. “We are close.”
“There! Right there, man, the one with the couch.”
“Damn. Looks like one of your redneck relatives lives here,” Mihai chuckled.
The wood sided house was decrepit in every way, an old station wagon was on blocks in the driveway, a chain-link fence around a yard of grassless dirt. A fuzzy looking couch listed to one side on the splintery porch, everywhere trash bags, broken planters, cans and pallets. A silent wheel chair sat alone and empty. Leonard snapped a picture with his phone. “This place stinks of hate.”
“And dogshit.” Mihai lit another Marlboro. "Ok, Ucenic, let’s go home.”
PART V
“You understand the script?" Mihai leaned over Leonard’s shoulder, the wall monitors cast blue flickers on his flaccid cheeks. Leonard clicked through the slide presentation.
Mihai leaned back and pulled deep on a cigarette. “There are not many Romanian cops in Dallas, so you will have to do most of the talking.”
“Script says I am not to say I am cop, though” Leonard asked.
“That’s right. We want him to think we are rogue cops or mafia, the types that plan to torture him unless they get answers. I know you have been questioned by a lot of cops.”
“Yeah, I have, but they never got anything on me.”
“Ah? See, you are a wise redneck, I knew it. But he will give us some answers, these killers love to talk about what they do, it is like masturbation for them.” Mihai exhaled a geyser of smoke. “After that, we offer him his freedom… depending.”
“Depending on what?”
“Depending on if Richard thinks he could be a son of perdition. We shall see.”
“And if he isn’t?
“Well,” Mihai grinned azure teeth, “the office has an incinerator in the basement.”
Leonard let out a chuckle and scrolled through the script.
Mihai sighed and flicked a sagging ash tail onto the floor. “Leonardo, why do you think we didn’t smell more fear at the parking lot?”
Leonard was surprised at his earnestness. “Well, I think she didn’t have time to be afraid. She didn’t see him coming and was dead before she hit the ground.”
“Da, da. I was thinking this, too.” Mihai still looked pensive.
“How are we going to get him in the van?”
“Easy. I will just throw blue into his eyes. Just a little bit; to stop the clock. Then I will throw a sack over him.”
“HA! Are you serious? A sack?” Leonard put his head in his hands, laughing.
“Yes, a thick, strong one, a big mail bag. We want him awake before we get to Pitesti but we don’t want him to see anything or try to escape.”
Leonard was still laughing. “What is Pee-tesht? I had a pee-test once, I failed it!”
Mihai giggled his girlish laugh which always made Leonard uneasy. “No, my pothead friend, it is a secret place, a shop-space we rent for such things. Richard often dines there with important clients and for our special business matters like this one. If things go wrong, we cannot be tracked to here.”
“Why didn’t I know about it?”
“You are the ucenic, the apprentice, so you are on a ‘need to know’ basis.”
“So now I need to know?”
“Yes, now is the time.”
“So, what does Pee-tesht mean?”
“Ah, Pitesti was very famous prison in communist times. Very bad place, very nasty. It was a place where the communists broke many slaves, made them openly deny their master, eat their own dung and drink piss.”
“So this office is where you guys take slaves? But we can’t free slaves.”
“I didn’t say we take slaves there. I said the communists at Pitesti broke many of them, made them do horrible things to each other, but slaves are not given up by their master. And no, we can’t ‘free’ slaves, you know that.”
“So Richard named his office after a cruel place; that fuggin figures.”
Mihai pulled an enormous lung-full from his cigarette.
“No, I chose the name, not Richard. Pitesti is to remind us to be careful. The communists failed, and most of them were shot. But the slaves who lived became stronger than ever. Some even learned to see us.”
Smoke flowed from both Mihai’s nostrils and mouth as though a pile of green leaves burned behind his eyes. Leonard watched the smoke fade while Mihai gazed into distant terrors and squalor.
“Mihai?”
“Hmm?” Mihai shook himself and crushed his cigarette out. “Ok, let’s go over the plan.” Mihai sketched the street, where the van would be, when to pull up to the house, what to do if it goes wrong, what to say if confronted. Leonard was impressed with it all. It felt important, intense, subversive.
Leonard was responsible for loading the Pacifica. He was also given the keys to the armory; a first. For weapons he chose two .22 caliber automatic pistols. Leonard figured that if things went south, a .22 would be enough to end it, but weak enough not attract much attention in a neighborhood where fireworks are as common as pit-bulls and derelict muscle cars.
Leonard removed the middle seats from the Pacifica and folded the rear ones into the floor. He neatly laid out the gray canvas mail bag, long zip-ties, nylon rope and a first-aid kit. He put the guns under each of the front seats. Lastly, was the funerary bouquet, which he secured with two sandbags in the rear.
PART VI
They left after sunset. Mihai liked listening to his classic rock while driving didn’t like to talk on the interstate, but Leonard couldn’t control himself. The words were there, like barf behind tissue paper. It was going to break through. Just as Edgar Winter’s “Frankenstein,” began, he popped:
“I ain’t inviting him to one of my dinners. You and Richard teach him.”
Mihai flinched, but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Damn. You will never let me enjoy a full song.” Mihai pulled on his cigarette. “You will not help him learn? Leonardo, where is your Texan hospitality?”
“I ain’t got any.”
“Do not be jealous of your job. Besides, he may not even work out.
“You mean, like if he is slave?
“HA! I doubt very much he is a slave. What slave goes around slashing people to death?” Mihai turned “Frankenstein” down a bit.
“But what if he is?”
“You shoot him in the head and we burn him. We don’t take any chances.”
“So if he isn’t a slave, how can he not work out?”
“He could say no to his freedom, try to keep his last coin.”
“What kind of dumb-ass would do that?” Leonard scoffed and shook his head.
“A dumb-ass who thinks he doesn’t have to pay the ultimate price for freedom.”
“It was easy for me and I used to go to church.”
“Da, very easy for me, for you, we are the boring ones. Most don’t even feel last coin in their pocket; giving it away is easy. But every now and then there is one, usually one who is very close to becoming a slave, who thinks they alone can protect it. Sometimes they fight.”
Mihai scratched the white flab at his neck. “Ah! But it is delicious if they accept and we steal the coin! They become the meanest sons, by the way, the cruelest of us. But Richard, he is different. He loves to watch the professed atheist enter perdition. It is his greatest pleasure.”
“I thought screwing over the slaves was his thing.”
“Da, da, but we all enjoy that, don’t we? Richard loves the ecstasy he feels when atheists know what they spent their lives denying is both true and too late AT THE SAME TIME! It is hilarious, the look on their faces!”
Frankenstein ended. Bobby McGee began.
“Now shut up, this is a good one.”
Leonard tossed his head back and let out gurgle. “I hate this hippy chick stuff.”
“Timeless song. They can’t all be AC/DC, you know. Listen to the words.”
Leonard took the insult in silence and remained quiet while Mihai mouthed Joplin’s words, words unsuited for his Dacian palette. He thought Mihai might happy enough as a mime, but when the chorus came, Mihai unleashed himself:
Freedom just ‘nother word for nottin left to lose
Nottin’', don't mean nottin’ hon' if isn’t free, no-no
And feelin' good was easy, Lor, when he singed the blue
You know the feelin' good was good enough for me…
“Dude! You totally SUCK!”
“What? Don’t you like my singing?”
“Don’t quit your day-job!”
They both fell into howls at the joke. Mihai stopped abruptly.
“Sheet! I missed off-ramp!”
END PART VI
The second installment will be published soon.