The Demon Phone Read online

  No guts no glory. I dropped down and shoved his arm up. The gun went off but clearly missed me. I gripped Pimp Boy’s wrist and pulled him close, introducing his twins to my knee. It had the desired effect as he went limp in my arms. I pulled the gun from his hand and held it at his temple. “All right, I was hoping to do this politely but I guess that ship sailed,” I said.

  “Yeah, you still one dead motherfucker,” Pimp Boy wheezed, still a noodle next to me.

  “Yeah, you’ll get me. But not before I empty your brainpan and probably take another few down with me,” I said and looked around. I was in the spotlight but no one made a move.

  Someone clapped, loudly. It was slow, methodical, and deliberate. The line of thugs parted and a tall dark skinned man in an expensive suit and fedora walked forward. He was wearing shades that would have made Stevie Wonder jealous. He was using an ornate cane, though I couldn’t tell if it was for show or not.

  A couple of feet behind him, on either side, were two stunning women in evening dresses. One had a pair of swords, the other gripped two forked blades.

  “The line between courage and stupidity is a fine one,” the man said and smiled at me. “It is easy to get either side confused. I’m not sure where you stand but I’ll give you points for balls.”

  “Can I grease this white mother fucker, Mr. Maxwell?” Pimp Boy said.

  “I don’t think you are in a position to do much, Donald,” Mr. Maxwell said and smiled. “He is right though. Any business should be conducted off the street. Step into my office?” he waived towards a limousine I hadn’t seen before. The headlights came on and lit everything up.

  “Sure,” I said and pulled Donny up, pushing him towards the limo.

  Mr. Maxwell walked just ahead of me and stepped into the limo. One of his beauties followed him, the other waiting for me. I lowered the hammer on the 9 in my hand and flicked the safety on. Smiling I crawled into the back, followed by the other beauty. The door closed but the limo didn’t move.

  I tossed the gun next to Mr. Maxwell and leaned back. If he was going to kill me I doubted the gun would do much more than make a mess of the upholstery.

  Maxwell leaned in and took a long sniff of me, then leaned back, studying me. “I thought so. Soulless. I smell Lilith on you. What does she want here? I’ve held my end of our truce,” he said.

  “I’m looking for Nadia Gallo. Her last address was here. She has something Lilith wants. That’s it, no beef that I know of,” I said.

  Maxwell regarded me. “What should I call you?”

  “West. Vince West,” I said and extended my hand. After a few seconds of Maxwell not reaching to shake I pulled my hand back.

  “Well Mr. West, Ms. Gallo isn’t here. She hasn’t been here for a couple of months maybe more. Whatever it is you are looking for isn’t here,” Maxwell said.

  “If she’s not here then what harm could it be for me to poke around? If I can find what I’m looking for I’m out of everyone’s hair,” I said.

  “Ms. Gallo didn’t leave voluntarily, Mr. West. She was doing bad things and what she was doing was indiscriminate. There is nothing up there. I’ve ensured of that,” Maxwell said with a sense of finality to it.

  I chewed my bottom lip, mulling my next course. “If she’s not here why the act, why did Donny shit himself when I wanted to go in?”

  Maxwell frowned. “She’s not here but parts of her still linger. I had the top floor emptied but somethings can never be cleaned.”

  I nodded, unsure of what that meant and knew that it was not good. “She have any associates, anyone she did business with before you evicted her?”

  “Information is valuable Mr. West and not to be shared lightly,” Maxwell said.

  “How much would this cost me?” I asked.

  Maxwell smiled for a moment. “Quid pro quo, Mr. West. What does Ms. Gallo have that Lilith has sent you here for?”

  I frowned and looked at Maxwell. Lilith hadn’t made the request a secret. “Gallo has a phone. Lilith wants it back.”

  Maxwell nodded and leaned back in his seat. “Interesting,” he murmured.

  “You’re turn, chief,” I said.

  Maxwell glared at me through his sunglasses. “Ms. Gallo kept to herself when she did come here. One of my employees did mention she had a gentleman caller. Derek Donovan. He was a frequent visitor and then abruptly stopped coming.”

  I jotted down Donovan’s name. “What’s he look like?”

  “That is what you will have to find out Mr. West,” Maxwell said and the door opened. “I will tell you that Mr. Donovan spends a lot of his time in the Warehouse district.”

  “Thanks,” I said and started to slide towards the outside.

  “Mr. West, please make note that I have been cordial with you. This is a one-time courtesy. Whether you work for Lilith or not, if you come to my territory again and act like you run the place I will use your severed head to send a message,” Maxwell said.

  I swallowed. “I see.”

  Maxwell pulled off his sunglasses and showed me the empty eye sockets that had been hidden. The scars told me whoever did that hadn’t been gentle and probably hadn’t used any antiseptic. Despite this, I could feel him staring at me.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, chief,” I said and exited the limo. The door closed and the limo drove off.

  Pimp Boy Donny and his crew didn’t molest me. They merely watched as I got on my bike and rode off.

  FOUR

  Maxwell had given me a name, Derek Donovan. That was little more than Lilith gave me before sending me on this wild goose chase. Maxwell had been kind enough to give me a location to search as well. Of course that was the was the Warehouse District.

  The Warehouse district of Colt is South East of Downtown and bordering on the docks. It’s bustling during the day and still busy at night but for different reasons. Much like East Colt you had to be careful. You park in the wrong place and Vinnie and Guido might take a violent and permanent exception.

  I rode slowly through the wide streets, passing parked big rigs, trucks, and more cargo containers then I could count. There were quite a few people out as well, most of them backing into or leaving a warehouse. I would not be surprised if the cops had been paid to enjoy an extra few donuts and a hot cup of Joe to not be there.

  I dug around and found the warehouse that Donovan should be at. Donovan helped move fenced merchandise. Lucrative and dangerous work. Disrupting a local fence was also dangerous but maybe Donovan would be reasonable.

  I parked and walked up to the warehouse. Cold approaches are a bad idea when you can avoid them but I had no choice.

  A big Samoan looking dude in a red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts stopped me. “Beat it, asshole.”

  “I’m looking for Donovan,” I said and pulled out a folded Grant and handed it to him.

  The fifty vanished into his shorts. “He’s in the back. Wait here,” he said. The dude turned to speak to someone I didn’t see and I heard feet beating. “What’s your business with Donovan?”

  “My business, hombre,” I said.

  “Fine be that way,” Samoan said and we waited in silence.

  A tall guy with shaggy dark hair and a beard came out a minute later wiping his hands down with a cloth. “Yeah, what’s up?” he growled.

  “Derek Donovan?” I asked.

  “Yeah, who’s asking?” Donovan shot back.

  “Do you know where I can find Nadia?” I asked.

  Donovan blanched and raced through the door. I ignored the Samoan dude’s yelling and blitzed through the door before it closed.

  I felt like I had walked onto the set of a bad TV cop show. Crates were scattered around, all of them open with various pieces of packing material scattered around. A half dozen guys and two women were all looking at the contents. As I approached each stopped to look at me.

  I could see Donovan running away deeper into the warehouse.

  “Hey wait I just want to talk!” I yelled a
nd barreled after him.

  The closest woman sprang into action, taking a swing at me with a claw hammer. I ducked and shouldered her out of the way, sending her sprawling along the concrete floor. I didn’t wait to see how anyone else reacted, instead beating feet after Donovan.

  The warehouse was long but narrow, not a lot of places to hide. The sound of a door frantically being pushed open sent me to the back of the warehouse. The door closed as I reached it. I shoved it open and rushed outside.

  For my trouble I took a fist to the jaw and a knee to the stomach. I’ve been in my fair share of scrapes and I can take a hit. I usually know its coming, though. I hit the ground - hard and watched as Donovan raced into the alley behind the warehouse, vanishing around a corner.

  I spit blood, wiped my mouth, and resumed my chase. I hit the corner Donovan had taken but did so more cautiously. I didn’t see him but could hear someone running. I entered the alley and picked up as much speed as the narrow space would allow me.

  The alley didn’t have any intersections, instead going the length of the two warehouses it separated. I ran out into the open looking left and right. There were several people all watching me but no one was polite enough to point out where Donovan had gone.

  I heard the sputtering of a car engine trying to turn over. Most of the streetlights were off here. I spotted the car though, the driver frantically trying to start it.

  At a dead run I raced to the VW Bug. The engine continued to cough and wheeze.

  I reached the car door and Donovan was frantically trying to turn the key, the engine refusing to cooperate. I grabbed the door handle but it was locked. The window was rolled up.

  “Hey asshole, I just want to talk,” I said loudly.

  Donovan ignored me, still trying to get his car to start.

  I pulled out the .357 under my jacket and tapped the window lightly with it. Donovan’s eyes got wide and he swallowed. “Come on asshole, out of the car.” I stepped back out of the radius of the door in case he tried anything cheeky.

  Donovan got out of the car slowly and sunk to his knees. “Make it quick, man.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t draw this out. If you are going to do it fucking do it,” he said, fear and defiance in his eyes.

  “Buddy you have the wrong idea,” I said and holstered my gun. “I have questions, that’s it.”

  “But you are looking for Nadia?” Donovan asked.

  “Yeah, and you can’t help me with your brains splattered over your shitty chariot,” I said.

  Donovan gulped and got to his feet. I pulled out my pack of smokes and handed him one. I was even polite enough to light it, then took one for me.

  Fluffy Hawaiian came trundling up, covered in sweat, with a shotgun.

  “It’s okay, Kalani,” Donovan said.

  “You sure?” Kalani wheezed.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Donovan replied. Kalani wasn’t buying it and walked a little ways away, but kept us within sight.

  “Why’d you run?” I asked after I’d given him time for a few drags.

  “I thought you were like the dude a month ago, coming to collect her debt,” Donovan said.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  Donovan sighed. “Three, four weeks ago this guy came calling. Roughed me up, saying that Nadia owed his employer some cash. He couldn’t find her but I was the next best thing.”

  “What happened?”

  “I gave him what I could lay my hands on, fifteen hundred bucks. He took it but said that if I saw her to call him,” Donovan said.

  “You know what she did to upset him?” I asked.

  Donovan blew smoke at me through his nose. “No, I didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer. Whatever it was he really wanted her.”

  I nodded and dropped my smoke, snuffing it with my boot. “That dude give you a name?”

  Donovan signed. “No, just his card with a number on it.”

  “You call him?” I asked.

  He took a drag and exhaled. “Yeah, the only place I could think she might be was Cavenaugh Cave,” Donovan said.

  “What’s that?”

  “A messed up place outside of town. Nadia took me there when we were lying low from someone else she had burned, place gave me the creeps,” Donovan said.

  “Anything happen there?” I asked.

  “No, but it’s all hazy, I don’t remember much. I warned the guy but he ignored me. Never came back.”

  “Small favors, I guess,” I said. Donovan gave a bitter laugh.

  “You still got the card?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’d like to find out if Nadia is gone or not,” I said.

  “Fuck that,” Donovan growled. “He might just come and end me for helping you.” Kalani perked up as our voices got louder but didn’t walk over and perforate me.

  “Pussy. Give me the card,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “Hey, I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Donovan said and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a small white card and handed it to me.

  Sure enough there was no name on it, just a number. “Thanks. Might want to get back to work.” He didn’t need to be asked twice and walked briskly to Kalani. Together they walked back to the warehouse.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. “Who is this?” a woman’s voice answered.

  “I’ve got a lead on Nadia Gallo,” I said.

  “Wrong number, asshole,” the voice said.

  “I’ll send my regards when I find her,” I said, anticipating the line to go dead.

  “Wait. Where is she?”

  “Sorry, cash up front,” I said calmly.

  There was another long pause.

  “2159 Anchorage Lane.” The line went dead.

  One step closer to finding Nadia. Of course, I’m pretty sure I had also just set myself up to walk into a trap. Tonight was turning out to be more exciting than I planned.

  FIVE

  The address turned out to be a small jewelry store in one of the nicer parts of town. Everything was closed and there were no cars on the street.

  I had my choice of spots so I parked and walked up. There were bars over the windows and door. Nice looking bars but bars nonetheless. Not enough to block a view but certainly enough to keep someone from a smash and grab.

  The main showroom was dark but I could see some light in the back. Time to get this over with. To my surprise the door was unlocked. I pushed it open and walked in. A small digital chime went off alerting whoever might care that they had a customer.

  I found myself surrounded by locked glass displays filled with all kinds of jewelry, rings, pendants, necklaces, the works. Some of it even looked decent. The floor looked like hardwood and the walls were painted a pleasant shade of cream. Pictures of well-paid actors showing off their expensive jewelry dotted the walls.

  I kept my jacket open so I had easy access to my piece. I was hoping I could have a polite conversation but based on how Donovan reacted I wasn’t expecting one. “Hello?” I called out.

  “That’s far enough,” a woman’s voice said from an intercom speaker. “Where is she?”

  “Funny story,” I started.

  “I’ve been told I don’t have a sense of humor,” the voice said. Based on the tone I believed them. “You don’t know where she is, do you?”

  “No, but I was hoping we could maybe do an exchange of information,” I said.

  “Uh huh. Sorry, I don’t play that way,” the voice said. There was a click and thunk behind me as the door locked.

  “There’s no need for anything nasty. I’ll just leave and find her on my own,” I said.

  “No, you know my number and this place. The police don’t react well to burglary and thank you for dressing the part,” the voice said.

  The only other ways out were a reinforced door leading back and a bathroom door. The door opened and revealed a lone toilet and sink. Nothing in here to use. I stepped out to examine the other door.
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  The handle didn’t move, obviously locked. I put my shoulder into it and it didn’t budge at all. Given enough time I could probably break it down but that was a luxury in short supply for me.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to work together? You can have Nadia and I get the phone. You can keep whatever else” I called out and then kicked the door hard. Again TV lied to me when it didn’t go flying off the hinges.

  “Wait, what phone?” the voice asked.

  “Big white, candlestick. My employer is very attached to it,” I grunted and pulled out my pistol. As bad ideas go this ranked down there.

  “Wait, you want that phone?” she asked me.

  “Yeah, I don’t care about Nadia at all,” I said and drew the hammer back and pulled the trigger. The wood splintered as the bullet ripped through it. I fired again and then tried the handle. It didn’t move. Another shot and the latch was gone. I kicked the door open and moved through.

  I was greeted by a Louisville Slugger to the gut. The blow hurt like hell but the narrow confines of the short hallway didn’t give her much room to swing. Still, I went down to my knees trying to shake off the pain. She swung again, smacking my wrist and sending my pistol clattering away.

  She was shorter than me, olive skin, and black hair shaved fully on one side. A coiled snake was tattooed where the hair had been. Her left nostril was pierced and I could barely see her lobes she had so many dangling bits of gold and silver. She was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt, faded jeans, and nice boots. At least she had good taste in music. I got a close inspection of her boots while on my knees as she drew back and kicked me.

  I saw the blow coming and crossed my arms in front of my face taking the brunt of the blow. I grabbed her ankle and pulled her off balance, sending her onto her back. Her other foot was not so hindered so she gave me a taste of black rubber. Her boot cracked my chin and I tasted blood and pain.

  She pulled back for another kick before I could do anything. I took it square in the face, my head rocking back. My nose turned into a faucet as blood streamed down. She drew back again but I jammed my palm against her foot, not giving her the leverage to ruin my rugged good looks anymore.