Amanda Lester and the Black Shadow Terror Read online

  The monk steepled his slender fingers. “How many times a week do you have them?”

  “Almost never,” she said.

  “Every night,” said Herb. “Sometimes multiple times.”

  “And what do they consist of?” asked the monk kindly.

  “The usual,” said Amanda.

  “Monsters, snakes, that sort of thing?” said the monk.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “No,” said her father. “These are beyond children’s nightmares. Even worse than the flashbacks soldiers get. Beyond horror. Beyond the devil.”

  “How do you know?” said Amanda, who had never told anyone, even Nick, what she saw in her visions.

  “I know,” said Herb.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d alluded, if obliquely, to his own experiences in battling evil. Part of her wished he’d come clean and tell her about his life, and part of her didn’t want to know. He’d never shown any inclination to lay bare his demons, but sometimes she wondered if doing so might help him. Now she wondered if the two of them might have had similar experiences. Was it possible he’d battled the evils that haunted him and won? And if he had, could she as well? If so, at what cost? Wasn’t it more important to get on with fighting crime, being the best detective cum filmmaker she could be?

  “Dad,” she said softly. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me. But Legatum needs me. I have to get back and do my work.”

  “You won’t be in any state to do your work unless you’re healthy,” he said.

  “But I am healthy.”

  “You are not healthy,” said Herb. “You’re a danger to yourself and others.”

  “I don’t see how,” she said.

  “No, you don’t remember afterwards.”

  Amanda was shocked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Honey,” said Herb. “You get violent sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry if I flail,” she said. “I don’t mean to hit things.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Herb.

  She was getting a creepy feeling. This was the first she’d heard of any physical problems related to her visions.

  “Sweetheart, you almost killed Tealeaf once. And you nearly took one of my fingers off.”

  A bolt went through her. She’d felt both of those things happen but had thought she was dreaming. Now her father was claiming that those incidents had actually occurred?

  “That’s terrible!” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were upset enough,” said Herb. “I didn’t want to add to your problems. But you see why this is critical.”

  Amanda’s heart sank. The situation was way worse than she’d thought. She might kill someone! Her beloved dog, her father. Had the Moriartys intended this too? Regardless of their intentions she had no choice. She was dangerous.

  “Might I interject something?” said the monk.

  “Of course, Rinpoche,” said Herb. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “This is not something that can be easily fixed,” the monk explained. “In fact, I’m not sure it can be fixed at all.”

  “I’ll do anything,” said Amanda, visions of hurting Nick or her father or Ivy or her beautiful dog careening through her head.

  “Listen to your heart before you decide,” said the monk, looking deep into her eyes. He was mesmerizing and she couldn’t look away. “The process could take years, and I cannot help you. You must go to Tibet.”

  Amanda recoiled. Even Herb looked surprised. “Tibet!” she cried.

  The monk nodded. “It’s the only way. You need to retire from life and concentrate on your mind. There is a nunnery in Lhasa—”

  “Tibet?” said Herb.

  “Tibet,” said the monk. “Amanda needs to study the way you did, Herb, but more so.”

  Herb himself had retreated to a monastery in Tibet after his near-death experience at the hands of Blixus Moriarty the previous year. He had been a mess then but he seemed fine now. Even so, Amanda had no desire to retire from the world, far away from Nick, her father, her friends, and Legatum, not to mention her film company in America.

  “I can’t do that,” she said.

  “It’s all I can offer,” said the monk. “If you don’t go you will continue to suffer. In fact you will worsen.”

  She looked helplessly at her father. He nodded. “He’s right. It’s already happened.”

  She burst into tears. “But I don’t want to go to Tibet.”

  Herb put his arm around her and drew her close. “What if I were to go with you?”

  “No,” she sniffled. “I’m not going to ruin your life with my problems.”

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You’re not ruining my life. I love you. As long as we’re together I will be happy. I don’t want to be away from you again.”

  She was touched, more than he could ever know, but she was adamant.

  “No. I’ll go alone. You stay here and take care of Tealeaf.”

  “All right,” said Herb sadly. “But you must go.”

  With tears on her face and snot running out of her nose, Amanda said, “Okay. I’ll go.” She’d never been more miserable in her life. What would become of her now, without Legatum, without Nick, without her friends? She wanted to die.

  Herb kissed her again. “That’s my girl.”

  Blixus and Hugh Ride Again

  Blixus Moriarty was hopping mad. In the last few months his cartel had been wrested away from him, his two brothers, including his beloved twin, had been killed—one of them by him but that had been necessary—and the kids who had rounded out his entourage, David Wiffle and Editta Sweetgum, had either defected or been captured. Not only that, but that vermin Herb Lester had returned from his hippy dippy yoga studio in Asia stranger and more powerful than ever. The only good news was that he now had a nephew, Bradan, whom he could mold in his own image. He was looking forward to that.

  So there was a lot to do. Banting Waltz, that loser, had perverted and weakened what was left of the Moriarty cartel. Blixus would have to purge and purify it and be sure of his men’s loyalty and competence. Then they could move forward and finally accomplish what he’d long been attempting to do: end the detectives once and for all.

  He would need to groom the next generation of criminals and he had a plan. It had been a while since he’d lost his wife, Mavis. It was time to remarry. With his sister-in-law, Bubble, a new widow, uniting with her in holy matrimony and adopting her son was only logical. She was a bimbo and he wasn’t attracted to her, but he could take one for the team. If she got out of line, well, there were ways of dealing with that.

  But first he needed a base of operation. He had occupied many headquarters in his career, but the new one was his favorite. For years he’d owned a crazy old house in a London mews, saving it until the time was right. It was a beauty—not aesthetically, it was rubbish that way—but functionally. It featured a wide range of tunnels, secret passages, and gadgets, all rigged up over the years by craftsmen and laborers who would do the job and quietly disappear. Should law enforcement or any of his enemies attempt to penetrate it, they would meet with a resistance they’d never imagined, and on the extremely small chance they were to breach it, there were so many escape routes for him and Hugh that they’d never find them.

  On moving day the two of them showed up with a suitcase or two and made themselves at home. Since the building was already outfitted there was no need to do anything else. Ah, the beauty of money. It made everything so much easier. Blixus brewed himself a cup of espresso and sent a text to his two top lieutenants, Puffy Bevilacqua and Turkey Turlington, inviting them to dinner at Le Bon Mot, one of London’s finest restaurants, and instructing them to come in disguise and unarmed.

  It was a familiar strategy. Whenever there was a threat of violence, whether from the police or other gangs, the best approach was to meet in a public place, in disguise so no one would recognize them. That way the participants could be assur
ed that no harm would come to them. It was standard operating procedure for the cartel and all the members knew it. Of course since so many of them were well known it required altering their appearances so as to hide in plain sight, but they were so good at that that it always worked.

  That was the easy part. With Waltz safely out of the way, or so it seemed—no one knew what had happened to him—Blixus needed to get his lieutenants up to speed again. The problem was that they’d all seen the video Waltz had forced David Wiffle to make of Blixus spilling his guts. It was the most embarrassing moment of his life, him wheedling and crying over his lost twin, Amboy. He wasn’t sure if they would ever respect him again, but he had a plan to win them back. He would whip up their passions and fears, distract them from his tarnished image, and focus them on the one thing they hated most in all the world: the detectives.

  With the detectives in a weakened state following the destruction of their precious school, beating them at last shouldn’t be difficult. In fact the criminals’ chances were the best they’d ever been. Now that the cartel was back under Blixus’s expert leadership, the criminals could barrage them with virtual buckshot: send them off on goose chases, booby trap their castle, and set them even more at each other’s throats. It was a delicious prospect and he couldn’t wait.

  Hugh was practically salivating too, just on general principles, but also because he wanted to get revenge on Simon Binkle and David Wiffle for causing him to be caught and sent to jail, as well as Nick, his erstwhile brother, and that smug Amanda Lester. He couldn’t wait to end them once and for all.

  But Hugh wanted even more. At thirteen he was a man, and he felt entitled to a position high in the cartel. He was smarter than the rest of them put together, but his dad had relegated him to the shadows, used him as a tool. Now that things were starting up again it was time for a change. He would re-emerge as first lieutenant and attend the dinner along with Blixus. Furthermore he would command his own top-notch cell, the crème of the cartel.

  But when Blixus heard about Hugh’s lofty plans, he laughed. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Hugh gave him an icy look. “Why?”

  Blixus tousled Hugh’s long dark hair and said, “You’re a child.”

  Hugh’s handsome face reddened and a vein in his temple throbbed visibly. “A child couldn’t command the sky. A child couldn’t make gold coins out of a vein of ore. A child couldn’t deform a computer screen from miles away.”

  “Parlor tricks,” Blixus sneered.

  Hugh picked up his phone and pressed the screen. Blixus jerked and screamed like a demented marionette.

  “Is that a parlor trick?” Hugh said snidely.

  Blixus lunged for him, but Hugh stepped aside and he almost fell. “What did you do to me?”

  “Nothing much,” said Hugh. “A child’s game.”

  “You stupid boy,” said Blixus. “Just because you know how to code does not mean you’re ready for responsibility. You need judgment, experience.”

  “I’ve been experiencing how to be a criminal my whole life,” said Hugh. “And as for judgment, I thought my timing there was pretty good, didn’t you?”

  Blixus eyed his only son. He’d been so proud of him, depended on him, loved him. The boy was all he had left since Mavis’s death and Nick’s defection. And yet there was something about him he resisted. Whether it was that he saw too much of himself in him or not enough he wasn’t sure. And then he realized what it was: he was afraid of him.

  Afraid of his own son. The boy wasn’t even that big, although he was growing fast. But it wasn’t his size or strength that worried Blixus: it was his soul. He was beginning to think Hugh didn’t have one, and he wondered if that might be his fault.

  Perhaps he hadn’t made it clear that crime was a business. There was business, and there was real life. In your life there were people you loved and cherished. There were principles you upheld, such as family and community. In business, sometimes you had to do things that were unpalatable, but it was just business and you engaged in it so you had the time and space for those other things. But Hugh hadn’t seem to have got the message. For him there were no other things. His business had consumed him, become everything in his existence so that even his own father was simply an object to be used.

  Why hadn’t he seen this before? If he had, he could have knocked some sense into the kid, nipped this nonsense in the bud. Perhaps it wasn’t too late though. Perhaps he could save Hugh from himself, make him into a fine man like him. Unfortunately the methods he’d used on Nick wouldn’t be available to him since Hugh could easily defend himself against violence. But there were other ways. James’s formulas, perhaps. Bribery. Persuasion. There were any number of possibilities. And he knew just the one to start with.

  “Very well,” he said. “You will be my first lieutenant. But there will be a price. I want you to complete a number of training exercises. If you perform them correctly, you will remain in the position. If you fail, you will resign and go to the bottom until you’ve completed them. I myself had to do this in order to move up.” It was a lie, but there was no way for Hugh to know that. “My father put me through my paces, as his father did before him. I want you to be part of that family tradition. Do you accept?”

  Hugh smiled mysteriously and held out his hand. Blixus grasped it and shook. It looked like they had a deal.

  Unfortunately he had run into a snag with Bubble. Despite the fact that he had killed her husband, Blixus had told her that Amboy had been the one to murder Stencil. But for some unfathomable reason she still held him responsible, maintaining that it was his fault they’d been at Durham Castle in the first place. Had they kept to their regular business instead of running off on some wild goose chase all would be well. She refused to move into the new stronghold, preferring to remain in her mansion in Knightsbridge. Nor would she let him see his nephew until he finally bribed her with a promise to “get that Lester girl” who had stolen her dog and end “your big, brawny son Nick who’s plotting against us with her.” But the final insult came when he proposed marriage and she laughed in his face, telling him that he wasn’t her type. Not her type? He and Stencil were practically twins.

  Well, perhaps there were ways of dealing with her too.

  “But I love you, Bubble,” he said, trying not to choke.

  “No you don’t,” she countered off-handedly.

  He took her hand and rubbed it with his thumb. “I’ve always loved you. From the moment Stencil introduced us I was smitten. But I couldn’t let anyone know. You understand that.”

  “Poppycock,” she said, twirling her long red hair around a finger.

  “Not at all,” he said. “You have no idea how much I fantasize about you. You drive me wild. Would you like me to show you?”

  She looked up at his chiseled face and something seemed to come over her. “Really? Tell me more.”

  He lifted his shirt. The word “Bubble” was tattooed on his chest. It was a temporary tat but she didn’t need to know that.

  She narrowed her eyes. “When did you get that?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. You don’t think I’d go around like that with Stencil alive to see it, do you?”

  “You killed him to get me?” she said, growing excited.

  “I didn’t kill him,” said Blixus. “You know that. Amboy did. It was terrible. That’s why I shot him.” Actually Stencil had killed Amboy, but she didn’t need to know that either.

  “You killed Amboy because he murdered my Stencil?” she cooed. “You did that for me?”

  “I would do anything for you, Bubble,” he whispered.

  She rushed into his arms and covered him with kisses. “I’ve always wanted you, Blixus. Thrill me.”

  Blixus smiled and gave her what she wanted. She was so easy. Yes, things were falling into place nicely. It was about time.

  He had trouble getting away from Bubble for the meeting with his lieutenants. Once she had decided she wanted him she wasn’t willi
ng to let him go. He could see that she did have some positive attributes he hadn’t known about, too, a pleasant surprise. She was a passionate lover and a good mother. She devoted the entire afternoon to making him and Bradan happy and succeeded handily. She was also expert with a gun. Perhaps he’d have to revise his assessment of her.

  When he arrived at the restaurant, a new bistro he’d become fond of, Puffy and Turkey were already there. He was glad to see that, because it meant that they were properly deferring to his authority. The most senior person in the group always made an entrance.

  The two lieutenants stood as Blixus and Hugh approached the table. If they were surprised to see a boy at a high-level meeting they didn’t betray themselves. To do so would be to show weakness. They had been well trained in the ways of the cartel.

  “My son, Hugh,” said Blixus, as he shook the men’s hands.

  For a moment Hugh just stood there, then realized he was supposed to be polite. He rather spasmodically stuck out his hand, which the men shook in turn.

  “A pleasure,” each of them said. Hugh did not return the nicety.

  They all sat and Blixus called for drinks. He wasn’t much for alcohol but he did like a good vodka tonic on occasion. The men wisely ordered the same. Hugh asked for a Coke, and they got down to business.

  Now that Blixus was settled he took a good look at his lieutenants. He didn’t like what he saw. Both had grown soft and fleshy since the last time they’d met. He’d noticed when he saw him that Waltz had put on weight too. This did not bode well. Waltz and that fool Lila Lester had allowed the cartel to take it too easy. An effective organization was not one in which the members indulged themselves. An effective organization was made up of disciplined, lean and mean men and women. Blixus vowed to whip the lazy gits into shape ASAP.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of selecting this evening’s fare,” he said. “You will eat it and you will like it.”