Presidential Cleaning: A Psychological Suspense Novel Read online

  ‘Oh my god,’ Loudmouth exclaimed, his voice trembling with each word that escaped him. ‘You’re… You’re… You’re not gonna hang me or anything, are you?’

  I observed his face for a few seconds before answering, ecstatic that he’d finally been filled with a new round of fear.

  ‘No,’ I answered, letting him off much more easily than I should. Again, a shadow of relief swept across his face only to be wiped away when I said, ‘hanging would be too humane.’

  His eyes assumed their closed position and under his breath he whispered what sounded like a soft prayer. Unfortunately, men like these didn’t realize that even if there were a God, he had shut his ears to their cries a long time ago. Yes, he’d shut his ears to people like me too. Though the cruel things I’d done in the past were often written off as ‘for the greater good,’ they were unforgivable by the man in the skies and frightening to the man down below.

  A slipknot secured the rope around the dead guy’s ankle while an open end dangled from the pipes above.

  ‘What’s his name?’ I turned to Loudmouth who still had his eyes shut and mouth moving.

  ‘Charles,’ he replied, refusing to pry his eyes open.

  ‘Okay, Loudmouth. I’m going to need some help with Charles, so whatever it is that you’ve got going on over there, you ought to suck it up ‘cuz we’ve got work to do. Understand?’

  His head nodded hesitantly and it was easy to determine that he wanted no part in what was about to happen. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have a choice.

  I jumped off the table, landing only a few feet in front of him. ‘Buck up,’ I said, as I skated the knife down his arm and over the duct tape. His body tensed as the roughness of the blade made contact with his skin.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet, and headed to the direction in which I pointed. ‘The straws. Hand me the straws,’ I demanded.

  ‘Straws, what the hell do you need straws for?’

  I flashed him a look that prompted him to do as he was told. ‘I’d say you weren’t in the position to ask questions. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Come on man. It’s all not that serious. Just give them what they want and you’ll get your wife back.’

  ‘Really?’ I snapped. My voice filled with anger as he tried to downplay the situation. ‘You break into my home and take my wife and try to tell me that it’s all not that serious. Let me tell you something you little fuck, I’m one of the guys you don’t fuck with. I’ve done things to people that shouldn’t be possible. I’m still haunting the dreams of the men who live to tell their tales. When I warned you on the phone, you thought it was all some kind of joke. You thought that your boss could protect you; that he was greater than great. But let me tell you something, I’m the kind of enemy the devil is afraid of and unfortunately for you, I’m an enemy that you have. So when I don’t ask a question, there’s no need for you to speak. And when do ask a question, it needs to be answered rapidly.’ I wasn’t sure if the constant nodding of his head was a way to tune me out or if he’d completely lost control of the trembling sensations that my words brought upon him. ‘Now,’ I continued, ‘you’re going to stand here like a good boy and keep your eyes open. You need to see this. You need to see this so that you can tell your boss just what he has waiting for him.’

  I lost myself in the job I was performing, inserting the knife into the raw flesh of the body that lay before me. My hands didn’t shake, my feet didn’t tremble. Into the carotid artery and then into the jugular artery slid my knife, creating incisions large enough to allow the straws to slip in with ease.

  ‘Pull,’ I instructed Loudmouth who was holding onto the rope as though it were a line of hope. He followed my command. Blood seeped from the dead man into the bucket placed below him. I made my way over to him, took hold of the rope, knotted and secured it so that it could carry the weight attached to it. But then, her voice trickled into my thoughts and I could feel the disappointment she would have; the disgust she would feel, watching me perform a task as inhumane as could be. I tried to shut them out, to push the thoughts of her to the back of my mind- I failed.

  My eyes searched the room for Loudmouth who was bent over in the corner, relieving himself of breakfast, lunch and dinner. For the first time in forever, I pitied a man. It wasn’t that I felt sorry for the things I did, but somehow, his weakness, his fear, they all poked at a soft spot in my rock hard heart.

  ‘You know,’ I said, my voice calmer than he’d ever heard it. ‘I was going to have you cut your friend down, tie the rope around you own ankles and bleed the answers out of you, but somehow, a part of me won’t allow that. So, before I change my mind, I think it would be wise for you to answer my questions. Where. Is. My. Wife?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ he moaned, wiping the mess from his face. ‘He had us take her and bring her here and not long after he picked her up. I swear to you, I have no idea where they took her. He told us not to call you until he’d left. He left a paper with what to say. The questions to ask. The demands to make. ’ His eyes searched my face, perhaps to see if I doubted him.

  ‘Who is he?’ I asked dryly.

  His answer came fast. ‘Peterman. Harry Peterman. He’s the one in charge of all this. He’s Derrick Shaw’s brother. It’s not something everyone knows but I heard him talking on his phone and he referred to Shaw as his brother.’

  ‘Derrick’s brother, but they have different…’

  ‘Yeah, their last names are different because they haven’t got the same dad. At least that’s what one of the other guys said. Charles, the one you strung up. He knew a lot more than me. He’d been working with Harry for years now.’

  ‘But they detained Derrick Shaw’s entire family.’

  ‘His foster parents. They took his foster family. The cops weren’t able to make the connection between Peterman and Derrick because no one knew they had anything to do with each other. They only met a few years ago and kept their plans on the down low.’

  It all made sense to me. I’d been the one to bring Derrick to his cell; a cell where criminals like him-criminals who became the president’s secret-were kept. Though rugged and filled with a lack of care for the world and the people in it, he didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who could conjure up a crime like the ones he was found guilty of. Sure, carrying it out was easy. All he needed to do was drop off a backpack, but the actually making the bomb; the coordination, they weren’t up his alley. He wasn’t smart enough, grounded enough of resourceful enough.

  ‘Call your boss and tell him I want my wife back,’ I said before turning my back to him and heading out the door. ‘Oh, and by the way, leave your friend hanging there and tell your boss that when I get my hands on him, I’ll be a lot more creative.’

  Chapter 4

  I had people; dark and dirty people. Ones who loved the smell of fresh blood and the sound of a heart taking its last beat. However, making contact with these men would mean buying back into something that I’d done everything-short of selling my soul- to get out of. Though tying a dead man upside down wasn’t something that should have made its way into my present- I did it for me- I did it for my wife. Contacting these men would mean that I owed them; that when they needed my help, saying ‘no’ wouldn’t be an option. That’s how things worked in our world. The men I could call were the ones I’d saved and thus, the ones who owed me- no questions asked. But was I ready to put myself into the position where-having had them help rescue my wife- I could be called at ghastly hours of the night to perform the unmentionable. Night after night, I told myself that the life I left wasn’t the one I needed to get back into. I could save my wife alone. I had the skills, the courage, the drive- but these men, they had the resources. A one man army wasn’t ideal when I had no idea what the situation ahead looked like.

  I hated these men- Derrick Shaw, Harry Peterman, Loudmouth and numbers one through six- for reminding me of who I was; for bringing a past I’d moved on from back into my future. And tho
ugh I wanted badly to tackle them on my own- to claim each and every life that had something to do with the disappearance of Lila- I knew that storming into the building where she was being kept and blasting through head after head was something she wouldn’t be able to forgive me for. There would be no hiding things from her, as she’d have to walk through the building and past each body that I was responsible for relieving of its soul.

  In the bathroom, I splashed a handful of cold water over my face. The four years that I’d been with Lila, had brought back a sense of life in my eyes. But as I looked at them, I realized that a cloud had replaced any twinkle that being with Lila might have given them. I was a killer. I had the eyes of a killer. My hands- like a killer’s- wore the pungent scent of blood. My former captain’s words resonated in my ears, ‘people like us, we’ll always be dead inside.’ Up until the time that I met Lila, I’d believed him. But Lila, she was easy to love. She made a human out of me. I’d tried so hard to be better. Only to have any progress I’d made of bringing life to a soul that most probably didn’t exist, fizzle away within the blink of an eye. I wanted to do better. For Lila’s sake, I needed to do better. I couldn’t continue to leave a trail of corpses wherever I went. However, each plan that came to my mind was one that involved a handful of people sealing their fate six feet under.

  The clock was ticking. Though I knew that killing Lila wasn’t on their agenda, I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with those bastards any longer. I had to make a move, but no matter how hard I tried to come up with a plan, I couldn’t seem to find one that didn’t include death.

  I turned off the tap, refrained from staring into the darkness of my eyes and opted for a shower. The cold water beat across my back with fury, mimicking the way I felt. Relaxation was hard to come by and even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t allow myself to find any form of release from the tangles my heart were in. Doing so, would be betraying Lila. Each moment that I thought about something other than rescuing her, I was failing her. This was all my fault. The moment that I decided to open my big mouth and engage in a conversation she was persistent to have, I had failed her. The moment I allowed her to fall in love with me and myself to return those feelings, I had failed her. She could have just been that girl I’d met once. The girl who could have changed me. But no, her soft, welcoming smile and her perseverance made her so much more. The men of NW45 weren’t meant to feel. They weren’t meant to settle down, to get married, to dream of a happily ever after. But Lila ensured that I forgot where I came from. The way she insisted that she wanted to know nothing about my past prompted me to forget about it. And so, I allowed myself to be loved by her; to feel comfortable in her presence. Because of that, I forgot. I forgot that the information I possessed would eventually come back to haunt me.

  The sound of my phone ringing interrupted my shower. I hurried out of the bathroom, snatching a towel and wrapping it around my waist before sprinting to the living room. I was just in time to take the call. A blocked number. I slid my finger across my phone, in the direction of the green bar, but refrained from saying anything when the other voice came through. My computer booted up quickly, and began to search for coordinates.

  ‘So,’ came a rusty and untamed voice. ‘I saw your…’ I could almost hear him searching for the right words, ‘work of art.’

  I didn’t reply.

  ‘I’ve got to say a big congratulations to you, Mr. Chandler. Not for killing my guys, but for the manner in which you took care of Charles. I must tell you, I haven’t seen anything quite like it. I’ve known many killers, but you, you’ve got a talent. A real talent.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say thank you,’ I replied harshly.

  ‘No. You see, I think I’m the one who needs to thank you. Those guys you killed. Well, let’s just say you made my job a slight bit easier. I don’t usually keep them around that long. Guys like those, they’re talkers… rats. You poke them too hard and they squeak.’

  ‘Where’s my wife?’ I looked over at my laptop to see that it was still searching hard for a GPS location- but still, nothing concrete was presented.

  ‘Where’s Derrick Shaw?’ he shot back.

  ‘Where’s my wife?’ I repeated.

  Harry cleared his throat and then went on to introduce me to a monologue. ‘The longer you sit there and do nothing, is the longer your wife has to see my ugly face staring back at her. I know that it’s hard for people like you, with all your training and shit, to divulge information. But you ought to know that just as much as you think you’ve got everything mapped out, I’ve got everything mapped out. It can’t be easy, feeling hopeless, not knowing which way to turn. Talking is what will bring you peace.’

  ‘And say I do tell you where Derrick is.’

  ‘Oh. I guess I didn’t make myself clear. I don’t really give a fuck where he is. I need you to bring him to me. In one piece.’

  ‘I don’t always scatter the body parts of the men I kill.’

  ‘Ah. But you’ll bring him to me alive. You’ll bring him to me without a scratch on his already scarred up skin.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ I replied.

  ‘With the right people, everything in this world is possible. And you, you’re the right person.’

  ‘If you’re so fucking powerful, why don’t you just break him out of jail?’

  A sarcastic laugh gurgled through the phone, ‘You’re a funny character, Mr. Chandler. Except, we both know that the cell where Derrick was meant to be held, isn’t the cell that he’s being held at. Imagine my surprise when I have my guys armed and ready to take that hellhole by a storm only to find that cell number eighteen had never smelled the stench of my…’ he paused. Perhaps not wanting to disclose information that I already knew.

  ‘Of your brother?’ I finished his sentence.

  ‘My brother?’ For the first time during our conversation, he sounded surprised.

  ‘Yes. Your brother. Same mom, different dads. Split up when you were seven and he was four. Except, you landed in a hoity-toity environment while he had to deal with the drunkenness of a man who was even worse than his biological father. Abuse, lack of love and support turned him into who he was. But you, you didn’t have to take this route, except somewhere deep in your DNA, you craved power. Maybe you were mad that your mom pretty much sold you to those rich folks. Maybe you were mad at the world for the hand your brother was dealt.’ After receiving the information from Loudmouth about Derrick and Harry’s relationship, I’d done further research to really put proof to the claims.

  ‘And you? What do you thank for your attributes?’

  The way in which he asked made me know that the only information he had on me was what I’d done and not who I was. He couldn’t break me down bit by bit and analyze the ins and outs of my characters like I could do to him.

  ‘People like you,’ I answered sardonically.

  ‘I’m not sure there are many people like me?’ His answer came matter-of-factly, proudly, as though he really believed that he was something special.

  ‘I’m not going to argue with you about your inferiority. Give me my wife.’

  ‘Give me Derrick Shaw.’

  ‘I’m not going to do this with you.’

  ‘No. I’m the one who’s not going to do this with you. My intentions were to keep her safe, but my patience, it’s wearing away slowly and I might just have to start sending bits and pieces of her to you as a reminder that I’m not to be fucked with.’

  ‘I don’t know where your godforsaken brother is.’

  ‘Knowledge, Mr. Chandler, isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you acquire. So, if you don’t know how to find him, learn how to find him. And do it quick.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ I snapped.

  ‘Oh. Mr. Chandler. You’re pressing on a nerve that you don’t want to snap. Let me make this a little clearer for you. If you fail, I’ll just have to have another party take care of your job. But, if you fail th
at would also mean that I failed to select the right person. And I, I’m not a man who deals with failure very well. What I’m going to do for you, is to give you a little inspiration. If I don’t hear back from you within a week, I’m sure your wife will be very happy to send you a reminder,’ his voice grew harsher and louder, ‘that you don’t fuck with Harry Peterman.’ He let out a sigh, before clearing his throat and progressing with his threat. ‘Van Gogh, he was an ear kind of man. But I’m guessing that you’ve got a thing about teeth, considering you damn near rid Locke of all of his. Tell me, how would you feel about receiving an enamel coated gift from your wife? Clear enough for you?’ He waited for a few seconds. ‘I’m guessing you’re not going to answer me. Such a shame, because I was really starting to get used to the sound of your voice. Oh, and before I go. Let me just warn you that if you ever try to find me before I want you to, and if you ever try to get to your wife before I hand her over to you, she’ll go up in smoke just like all those damn buildings that I couldn’t bear to see stand. I’m good with that kind of things as I’m sure you’ve come to realize. And a pissed off Harry is an explosive Harry. I don’t think you’d like to have your wife barbecued and so, I trust that you’ll be the perfect little soldier you were intended to be.’

  I slammed the phone down on the table, beating the life out of it the way I wanted to beat the life out of Harry. Where was the karma Lila was so adamant existed? Why is it that I guy like me who turned his entire life around was being dealt a hand of misfortune? Okay, so maybe karma was late on dishing me a big plate of ‘fuck you’. But Lila, she didn’t deserve any of this. She was the kind of girl who feared spiders more than anything in the world. However, rather than having me stomp them to pieces, she insisted that they be caught in a jar and released into their natural habitat so that they could breed and infest her home even more. She was the kind of woman who cried at commercials. The type who would give her last penny to someone in need.