Amanda Lester and the Black Shadow Terror Page 3

  Puffy and Turkey eyed each other. This obviously was not what they had been expecting.

  Blixus glared at them. “A vegetarian entrée with squash soup to start and mixed berries for dessert.”

  Puffy looked as if he’d just eaten a lemon and Turkey as if he was straining on the toilet, but they nodded and said nothing. Hugh, who was used to Blixus’s healthy habits, smiled. He was obviously enjoying the big men’s discomfort, the little sadist.

  “Now,” said Blixus. “We have business to discuss. First, let me make it clear that I am here to stay. I have put safeguards in place”—this was a lie— “to ensure no one, and I do mean no one, can ever take control of this organization without my willing consent. Willing. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, boss,” said the criminals, avoiding eye contact.

  “Excellent,” said Blixus. “Now, we are going to have new rules. Everyone in this cartel will have to meet physical standards from now on. A body mass index of no more than 24, and that is high. Twenty-three or lower is preferred. That means the both of you.” He eyed them. “I’d say you’re at least thirty-four. You have your work cut out for you.”

  Blixus and Hugh, tall, naturally lean ectomorphs, had never had nor would have weight problems. Turkey and Puffy, big-boned, stocky endomorphs, always would, unless they were incredibly careful.

  “Next, no meat. We are going to live forever. Would you like to know why? So we can have the last laugh. We will watch as our enemies crumble one by one and enjoy our victories in good health for years to come. Believe me, when you see what life can be like when you’re in top shape you won’t miss the junk food. You’ll be too happy to care.”

  The men looked skeptical but again wisely declined to speak.

  “Now, my son, Hugh, has a few words for you.”

  Hugh grinned in a way that would have made a detective uncomfortable. “You are going to learn high-level computer skills taught and overseen by me. Anyone who fails to meet my standards will be expelled. You will learn to code in three languages with projects focusing on the disruption of computer networks, theft of high-value information, and the malicious manipulation of our enemies’ data. Those who display particular aptitude will learn advanced techniques that are too secret to mention. Trust me, however. If you make it that far you will be more than satisfied.”

  The two lieutenants, neither of whom had ever done any computing other than email and texting, swallowed hard. They were older than Blixus and technical dunces. They would probably be out in a week, but Blixus felt that he at least needed to give them the chance. He prided himself on his ethics and sensitivity and could do no less for them.

  “Thank you, Hugh,” he said. “Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way, let me tell you why I’ve called you gentlemen here. Due to a confluence of events, we at the Moriarty cartel have a unique opportunity to end the detectives once and for all. I am going to tell you how.”

  He proceeded to lay out his plan to harass, outthink, and outmaneuver the detectives on a massive scale.

  “It is the most ambitious project we’ve ever undertaken,” he said, “but it will succeed. Our enemies have never been in such disarray. They’re divided, exhausted, and demoralized. I can personally promise you that if you stick with me you will have the time of your lives. Our dreams are in sight. What do you say?”

  The lieutenants gulped. “I’m in,” Turkey said. “Me too, boss,” said Puffy.

  Blixus thought he detected fear in their voices, which had almost imperceptibly risen in pitch, but he wasn’t worried. There were always more lieutenants he could pull from his pool of wannabes. Turkey and Puffy knew that too. They’d shape up. It would take a while but he’d whip the cartel back to efficiency. Then they’d be unstoppable.

  “I want you to take this message to your charges,” he said sending the plan with a touch of his screen. Report back to me tomorrow—every detail. I want the name of anyone who balks even the least bit. We can’t afford dead weight.”

  “Yes, boss,” said the men.

  “Now, what are you going to tell them?” said Blixus.

  “That we’re going to end the detectives forever,” said Turkey with a gleam in his eye.

  “And what else?” said Blixus.

  “Fitness, discipline, no meat,” said Puffy, obviously trying to summon up enthusiasm for the new regimen.

  “Exactly,” said Blixus. “And?”

  “Computer stuff,” said Turkey.

  “Not ‘stuff,’” said Hugh. “Programming excellence. If you can’t tell the difference you’re no good to us.”

  Turkey gulped. “Excellence in programming,” he said mechanically. “Is that hacking?”

  “Sometimes,” said Hugh. “Not always.”

  “My niece uses something called Python, I think,” said Puffy. “Is that what you mean?”

  Hugh sighed. “An amusing little language. A place to start but not what I mean, no.”

  The men looked terrified.

  “Look, fellows,” said Blixus. “We don’t expect you to learn in a day. We’re here to help. Hugh will be offering classes, won’t you, Hugh?”

  Hugh shot his father a dirty look. “I’m not a teacher,” he spat.

  “You will give classes in computer programming techniques,” said Blixus. “These men need training. You are the most qualified to offer it.”

  There was that vein in the temple again. “But Dad . . .”

  “End of discussion,” said Blixus. “I want a syllabus and reading list by tomorrow.”

  Hugh said nothing but glared daggers.

  “What else?” said Blixus.

  “I gotta say, boss, that I’m really looking forward to getting those slimy detectives once and for all,” said Turkey.

  “That’s the spirit,” said Blixus. “Puffy?”

  “I been wanting to crack that Thrillkill’s head for a long time,” said Puffy.

  “No head cracking,” said Blixus. “It won’t be necessary.”

  Puffy looked disappointed. Man, it was going to be difficult to make these yoyos into smart criminals—except for one thing. There were always Moriarty’s formulas. Those could work wonders. If he couldn’t remake them through hard work, he could always pull a rabbit out of a hat. This was the kind of thing he needed to impart to his son. Subtlety was always preferable to brute force.

  He had his work cut out for him.

  “Now Hugh,” he said when the men had left. “It’s time for your first test. The target is Herb Lester. You decide what to do with him.”

  “Oh, goodie,” said Hugh. “I can’t stand his smug face. Plus he’s bald. I hate bald.”

  “Never mind about smug and bald,” said Blixus.” Don’t get caught up in emotion. The only way to succeed in this endeavor is to focus. Do you think you’re ready?”

  “Of course,” said Hugh. “I’ve been ready since the day I was born.”

  He wasn’t far off. He’d been a nasty baby—always out for what he could get. Not that babies are generally altruistic, but Hugh had been far more ruthless than other miniature humans. He had made Blixus and Mavis so proud. Blixus hoped Bradan would turn out that way too, but with some subtlety as well.

  As they drove to Herb’s flat Blixus said, “I’m going to let you define this mission. I’ll be there to help you execute it, but you decide on the objective and methods. Afterwards we will discuss your choices and your justification for them. If you pass the test, we will go on to the next one. If you fail, you will have to wait six months before you can try again.”

  “Six months?” Hugh whined. “I’ll be an old man.”

  “Criminals don’t whine,” said Blixus. “The next time I hear you doing that you will forfeit the chance to try again for one year. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Hugh said sullenly.

  “Good,” said Blixus. “Now, tell me about the mission.”

  Hugh clapped his hands together. “If he’s there we kill him,” he said
enthusiastically.

  Blixus shook his head. “One more word of advice and then it’s completely up to you. The hallmark of a successful criminal enterprise is subtlety. End of lecture.”

  “Hm,” said Hugh. “You don’t want me to kill him. At least not yet.” He looked puzzled. “Oh, I get it. You want me to torture him.”

  “This isn’t about what I want,” said Blixus.

  “Of course it is,” said Hugh. “You just said that if I don’t do it your way I’ll fail.”

  Blixus sighed. “That isn’t what I meant. What I meant was that I will evaluate you. That doesn’t mean you have to be a clone of me.”

  Hugh didn’t understand. “It’s the same thing.”

  “On the contrary,” said Blixus. “You’re building a case, like a lawyer. I will evaluate your case based on the evidence and the logic you present.”

  Hugh thought for a moment. “‘So you’re saying there could be many right answers.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But there are also wrong answers,” said Hugh. “And killing him is the wrong answer.”

  “Yes. And that’s all I’m going to tell you for now.”

  “Are you saying that even though you think killing Herb Lester is the wrong answer you wouldn’t have stopped me?”

  “I will not stop you unless it looks as though one or both of us is in mortal danger,” said Blixus. “You need to make your own mistakes and suffer the consequences.”

  “Woo hoo,” said Hugh. “You’re some kind of dad.”

  “I know,” said Blixus.” Now, what is your mission?”

  It didn’t take Hugh long to answer. “Terror.”

  “Why have you selected that?” said Blixus, betraying neither approval nor disapproval.

  “Because it lasts so deliciously long,” said Hugh. He was practically salivating.

  While Blixus concurred, he was becoming a bit concerned about Hugh’s sadism. It was one thing to employ terror and intimidation as a tool, but quite another to enjoy it so much. That was one thing he’d liked about Nick. He could be rough but not brutal. He’d always suspected the boy had identified with his victims. Hugh had no such restraints. But given enough time he’d even the kid out. This training course should help. If Hugh saw that his overreach were to lead to failure, he might just learn to tone it down. That was one of the objectives anyway.

  “Tactics?” said Blixus.

  “I’m thinking we start small,” said Hugh.

  This was a change. Normally the kid would pooh-pooh small projects, reserving his enthusiasm for the splashiest ideas. Blixus was pleased. Perhaps his son was learning subtlety after all.

  “In what way?” Blixus queried.

  “Just let them know that we can get at them anytime. We’ll break in and toss Lester’s flat. Send a message.”

  That was a small thing, the kind of job any two-bit thug could pull and an ideal place to start. Blixus was pleased.

  When they arrived Herb Lester’s flat was empty, which suited Hugh down to the ground. A home invasion would have been more complicated. They did, however, face a series of locks on the door: several deadbolts, three keypads, two card slots, and an odor sensor.

  Hugh giggled. “Is he kidding?” He took his phone out of his pocket and reverse engineered the electronics in seconds. One by one they gave way. Then he picked the deadbolt locks and they were in. “I thought this bloke was supposed to be so smart.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” said Blixus.

  “But it was so easy.”

  Blixus kept silent. He was not going to tell his son that there might be a good reason for that.

  They were met at the door by Tealeaf, Amanda’s dog.

  “Say, isn’t that Aunt Bubble’s dog?” said Hugh.

  “Maybe,” said Blixus. “They all look alike to me.”

  “Let’s take it back to her,” said Hugh.

  “It’s your mission,” said Blixus.

  “Then I will,” said Hugh.

  He proceeded to ransack the place, the pretentious California style of which annoyed him no end, turning furniture over, spilling the contents of drawers and cupboards, breaking items, and tossing pieces hither and thither. With Blixus’s help, he had the place trashed in minutes.

  Hugh fastened a leash he’d found to Tealeaf and began to leave. But the puli was having none of it. She wouldn’t budge.

  “Come on, you stupid dog,” Hugh said irritably. “Let’s go.”

  Tealeaf barked at him. He reached down to pick her up and she ran into the bedroom and hid under Amanda’s bed, the leash well out of reach. Hugh followed and stuck his arm under the bed. Tealeaf shot out and raced past him, hit a hidden lever in the dining room, and ran through the secret doggie door it opened, dragging the leash behind her.

  “Why you little . . .” Hugh fumed. He flung open the front door and raced down the steps, but the dog was gone.

  Blixus followed him out. “Smart dog.”

  “Who cares?” said Hugh. “Anyway the place is tossed. That’s the main thing.”

  “Shall we adjourn then?” said Blixus.

  “Just a minute,” said Hugh. “I’m trying to figure out whether we should leave a note.”

  “What are you thinking?” said Blixus.

  “If we don’t,” said Hugh, “they’ll have to investigate any number of possibilities. That would be a waste of their time, plus the uncertainty will be unsettling. On the other hand, if we let them know we did it they’ll know we got them again. I like that. They need to know how superior we are.”

  “And the arguments against?” said Blixus.

  “If they know it was us, they may find our hideout. Not that I think they would. We’ve taken every precaution. But for the sake of thoroughness, I need to mention that. If we leave no note—no, I see no disadvantage to that. Except the superiority thing. We won’t leave a note.”

  “Very well,” said Blixus. “Let’s go home then.”

  “So what did you think?” said Hugh when they had returned to their hideout. “I did good, didn’t I?”

  Blixus kept his face blank. “It was okay.”

  “Okay? “Hugh was livid. “What do you mean ‘okay’? I was brilliant as usual.”

  “You should have killed the dog,” said Blixus.

  “But you said—”

  “Terror is the objective,” said Blixus. “Anyone can recover from a burglary. Losing their best friend, not so much.”

  “I’ll go back and do it right now,” said Hugh. “And I’ll enjoy it.”

  “No,” said Blixus. “This isn’t about enjoying anything. Rule one is that you don’t get emotionally involved with the work. When that happens you get sloppy.”

  “But I love making Lester unhappy,” said Hugh. “It’s so much fun.”

  “Crime isn’t about fun,” said Blixus. “It’s about money.”

  “But Uncle Stencil enjoyed tormenting Lester.”

  “I don’t care what Stencil did and either should you. If he’d managed to control himself he’d still be alive.”

  “Oh,” said Hugh, crestfallen. “I always thought he was the man.”

  “I am the man, and don’t you forget it,” said Blixus.

  “Well then,” said Hugh. “I think you’re going to be pleased about something else.”

  “Oh?” said Blixus. “And what’s that?”

  “I hacked Lester’s locks. And Legatum.”

  “You what?” said Blixus,

  “Those electronic locks. I reverse-engineered them and inserted some malware. When they come back there will be viruses on their phones. Whoever destroyed Legatum did us a big favor. Security at Auchencairn is rudimentary at best. I can’t believe they think they’re keeping anyone out.” He checked his screen. “Whoa, they must have come back. The whole place is falling apart. Wanna see?”

  Hugh held up his tablet for his father to look at. A dashboard showed Legatum’s systems and their statuses. They were all in crisis.


  “Why didn’t you say anything?” said Blixus. “This is brilliant.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” said Hugh. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “So you’ve hacked all their phones and their firewalls?” said Blixus.

  “And their tablets and watches, and as a special treat I’ve hacked their databases and scrambled everything.”

  “All from Lester’s door locks?” said Blixus.

  “Well, they were just a gateway,” said Hugh. “But yeah.”

  Blixus clapped Hugh on the back. “Well done. You get extra credit for that.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Nick’s Vow

  Nick knew it was futile to be angry with the dead but he couldn’t help it. He was furious with his erstwhile uncle, Stencil Moriarty, and his onetime teacher Christopher Scribbish, for without their perfidy Amanda wouldn’t be suffering from the terrifying dreams that awakened her every night and plagued her by day. She wouldn’t tell him exactly what the Moriarty brothers had implanted in her mind but he knew it had to be bad. She wasn’t easily scared—not after all she’d been through with the detectives—but whatever she was seeing now was scaring her half to death.

  He wished he could wipe her mind clean, fill all the spaces the nightmares ate away with his love. For now that he’d returned from his self-imposed exile in the mountains, he loved her more than ever—his beautiful, wild Amanda with her forest of tawny hair, liquid brown eyes, and lovely smile.

  When he’d returned to Windermere he wasn’t sure she’d want him back. After all, when he’d lost his hearing he’d taken the coward’s way out, running from a world he could no longer bear. He was still ashamed whenever he thought about how he’d abandoned her. But she had taken him back, thank goodness, and he had vowed to spend the rest of his life making it up to her. Now his job was to erase the damage the Moriartys had wrought.

  In order to do that he’d have to get his hands on the formulas. Back in the 19th century, the original Moriarty, a mathematics genius, had devised a series of formulas that created forces within people’s minds. The one the brothers had used on Amanda was particularly powerful and required three minds to wield. As far as Nick knew, it also required three minds to undo. And therein lay the rub: only two Moriartys—Blixus and Hugh—were left. Bradan, the last one, was only a baby. So even if he could somehow get Blixus and Hugh to undo their work, it wouldn’t be enough.