Shadowman: The Red Sash (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 2

  “Take me home,” Gibson said and the he saw the surprise writ large on Anthony’s face. ‘Home’ could only mean one place, after all: the Gibson family estate in New Orleans. Gibson didn’t go there very often: the memories were just too raw. In fact, in all the years that Anthony had worked for him, he’d traveled there only three times.

  Anthony jumped into the pilot’s seat and Gibson settled in beside him. He saw that Anthony had collected the various agent reports that had come in over the past 24 hours and put them in a manila envelope. Gibson picked it up and quickly skimmed the contents: mostly, the reports concerned the usual: sex trafficking, the drug trade, serial killings… but there were two reports that caught his eye: the first was the report of an occult object known as The Jade Goddess had been auctioned off in Salem, Massachusetts, at the headquarters of The Hindenburg Group.

  The Hindenburg Group was the Sotheby’s of the underworld and primarily dealt with items both bizarre and supernatural, which meant that Gibson liked to keep a close eye on their activities.

  The Jade Goddess was generating a lot of buzz from those in the know and Gibson felt the tickle of past memory go down his spine. Decades ago, he’d dealt with a murder/break-in. He’d eventually learned that the thieves had stolen a jade statue but he’d never found any trace of it. Could this be the missing object, finally showing up?

  The other report was from Agent M. She was part of Gibson’s recruiting team, which meant that she kept an eye out for men and women who might be worthy of being added to The Red Sash’s roster of agents. In this case, her long study of Subject 157 had resulted in a lengthy discussion as to why the person was ill-suited for recruitment: he was headstrong, prone to ignoring authority, had a few health problems that he frequently chose to ignore and was generally a bastard in his personal life.

  The Red Sash sat back, thinking over the previous reports and assimilating these new recommendations with those that Agent M had made previously. He'd made a decision about Subject 157 already and this report just confirmed it.

  When the trip to New Orleans was over, The Red Sash was going to pay a visit to Subject 157... Palmer Harrison.

  But before he could worry about Harrison and his appropriateness for inclusion in The Red Sash’s war on crime, Gibson knew that he had another concern of perhaps even greater importance. “Anthony, place a call to New Orleans, please.”

  “Sure thing, Master. Who am I ringing?”

  “Dox. Tell him I’m on my way.”

  IT WAS near dawn by the time Jack had gotten himself cleaned up and back to Dox’s lair.

  Alyssa had greeted him with a smirk. “How’d you like your ringtone?”

  Jack’s reply had been a rude one but it had made Alyssa cackle. The beautiful woman was Dox’s protégé and, by all rights, would have made a better fighter against the forces of Master Darque than Jack. But there was more to being Shadowman than knowledge or even physical ability.

  The mantle was Jack’s birthright.

  “Where’s Dox?” Jack asked, plopping down in a chair. He had dispensed with his Shadowman uniform and was now wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Right here.” Dox entered the room, his normally serious face looking even more so. “Have you read today’s newspaper?”

  “The yu yi murders?”

  “Yih King,” Alyssa corrected. Jack gave her a look that read, Teacher’s Pet.

  Dox pulled up another chair and leaned in to fix Jack with a burning stare. “This is a dangerous time, Jack. The walls between the living and the dead are very thin right now. The last thing we need is this group mucking things up even worse.”

  “I thought they were just the Chinese mafia or something?”

  “They are,” Alyssa said, moving closer. “But that’s not all they are. Think of the Corleone family if they were Satanists.”

  “Not a nice image.”

  Dox nodded. “They’d probably put something much worse than a horse’s head into bed with you.”

  Jack leaned forward, tapping his chin. “The paper said these guys were killed by some serial murderer.”

  “An old associate of mine – Lester Gibson – was a vigilante back in the 1930s. He inspired a wide range of magazine and radio stories, even some movie serials. He was known as The Red Sash. Have you heard of him?”

  “Sure. Wore a black bodysuit and a bandito-style mask that covered the bottom part of his face. The only color to his outfit was a red sash he wore tied around his waist. He had a pretty big nose, too, if I recall correctly.” Jack shrugged. “I know my popular culture.”

  “If only you paid as much as attention to the things we tell you,” Alyssa murmured.

  Dox ignored the jibe and continued, “The Red Sash was quite real and he still is, even today. His war against the Yih King has been long and bloody but it’s in its final phase. He was as surprised as anyone to hear about the murders here in New Orleans, which are his old stomping grounds. He’s on the way here right now.”

  Jack frowned. “Wait. So you’re saying he didn’t kill these guys?”

  “No. I believe that it was a setup, all part of a ploy to draw him here to New Orleans.”

  “Yih King finally got tired of him and have decided to stage an ambush?”

  “Possibly. Or it could be something far worse.”

  A slow smile began to take shape on Jack’s lips.

  “What’s so funny?” Alyssa asked.

  “I used to listen to The Red Sash radio show. And now it looks like I’m going to get to meet the real thing.” Jack leaned back and shook his head. “Earlier tonight I was thinking about how being Shadowman was like freeform jazz, you just let it carry you where it will. This is like that, too. A collaboration.”

  “I figured you’d call it a team-up,” Alyssa countered.

  “That’s enough,” Dox cautioned. “Jack, I expect him to arrive soon. When he does, I’m going to make it very clear to him that this is your city now… he may assist but he has to take his leads from you.”

  “That… that doesn’t seem all that wise,” Jack replied. “The Red Sash has a lot more experience than I do.”

  “Yes and he’ll run all over you if you let him,” Dox said. “You’re The Shadowman and this is something that feels wrong to me… this whole affair with the Yih King can threaten all our plans. I want you to take the lead on this investigation.”

  “Then that’s just what I’ll do,” Jack said.

  MARGO WAS sleeping soundly, her slight snoring the only sound to be heard in the room. Since Palmer liked to sleep with the air conditioning off, Margo’s nude form lay on top of the covers and he took a moment to enjoy the view before he finished dressing and stepped out into the hallway. It was barely five in the morning but thoughts about The Red Sash murders wouldn’t give him much in the way of sleep. As always, there had been no new clues at the crime scene and Palmer knew that within the week there would be a hearing about whether or not it was time for new blood on the case.

  Palmer walked across the street, where an IHOP was already open for business. He’d probably be back at the hotel before Margo ever woke up. She liked to sleep to at least nine in the morning, which was balanced out by the fact that she rarely hit the sack before two.

  Palmer was more a creature of habit, preferring to be in bed before eleven and to wake up promptly at seven. Recent weeks, however, had tested those habits, with too many sleepless nights to count.

  A slightly overweight waitress with a nametag that read Kelly greeted Palmer and escorted him to a booth. She chattered on about something but Palmer was oblivious, ignoring her until he heard her inquire about what he wanted to drink. He ordered a coffee, black, and a country-fried steak.

  As she hurried off to fetch his food, Palmer reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled out his iPod and slipped the ear buds into place, quickly resuming the podcast he’d been listening to earlier. It featured downloadable copies of old Red Sash radio dramas and this week’s was a d
oozy: The Quiet Ones Under the Sea. The Red Sash was investigating alleged attacks perpetrated by frog-men who came from a sunken city. In the end, it would be revealed that it was actually gangsters wearing rubber suits and breathing apparatus but until then, it was a real barnburner with all the things that a good Red Sash story should have.

  Palmer was sitting with his eyes closed, transported to another time and place, when he realized that someone had slid into the seat opposite him. He looked up, expecting to see Margo, but instead coming face-to-face with a slender, longhaired Asian man dressed in a suit and tie. Palmer quickly turned off the iPod, stopping it in the middle of a fight scene between The Red Sash and the fake undersea monsters.

  “Do I know you?” Palmer asked.

  “You do not. My name is Khan. I think that you and I have a mutual interest that merits discussion.”

  “Make it quick.” Palmer sensed that Khan was dangerous. It was there in his eyes and his body language.

  “You’re in charge of The Red Sash case… and I’d like to help you catch him.”

  Something clicked in Palmer’s mind and he leaned forward with sudden interest. “You’re part of The Yih King.”

  “Yes. The Red Sash has been a thorn in our side for many years. Our founder once described him as a tick that refused to be removed. He was second on the list of our founder’s greatest enemies.”

  “I’m sure he’s thrilled he scored so high. So you’re telling me that you believe that the current killings are being carried out by the same Red Sash who operated in the Thirties?”

  “Of course.”

  “And how’s he doing it? Staying fit enough to kill men a third his age?”

  “Lester Gibson spent three years with Tibetan Lamas who taught him how to slow his body’s aging, speed up his metabolism and control pain.”

  Palmer tried to contain his excitement. He knew he couldn’t trust any member of The Yih King but he was also thrilled to find any kind of confirmation about his theories. “What name does he go by? Where is he?”

  “He goes by Lester Gibson for the most part, just as he always has.”

  “That’s not possible. I looked into that. There are 14 Lester Gibsons in the entire world and only one of them is in the right age bracket – and he’s in a wheelchair. Do you really think I wouldn’t have gone looking for guys with the same name as The Red Sash from the pulps?”

  “What makes you think he’d tell people the truth about his age? He appears younger than he really is. The Lester Gibson you want is head of the Gibson Corporation, which has holdings in several television and Internet networks.”

  Palmer remembered seeing the file on that particular Gibson. At the time, he’d been eliminated because he was a couple of decades too young and far too prominent to pass as a vigilante. Then again, even in the old pulps it was usually the millionaire playboy who strapped on the mask and guns, not some working stiff that nobody ever heard of. “If you guys know who he is, why haven’t you dealt with them?”

  “We’ve known his true identity almost since the very beginning. Gibson hid in plain sight, allowing those magazines and radio shows to recount his adventures. In public, he laughed off the similarity in names, making it into a joke. No one thought it possible that he could be the same person who inspired all those stories.” Khan shrugged his shoulders and leaned back as the waitress set Palmer’s food and coffee on the table. He waved her away when she asked him if he wanted a menu. “As for killing him, we’ve tried - again and again. He’s always managed to slither away from us. But those days are ending. His age is finally catching up to him and not even the Tibetan techniques will help him fight off prostate cancer. He’s dying.”

  “For a man on his death bed, he’s been awful busy.”

  “That’s why he’s been so busy. He wants to shut us down before he dies.”

  “And why would I accept help from you? You’re admitting you’re a member of the largest crime cartel in Asia and your group’s got its tendrils into nearly Western country, too. I should drag your ass in right now.”

  “But you’re not on the Yih King case,” Khan pointed out. “You’re after The Red Sash. And your window’s closing. They’re going to boot you off the investigation soon.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. We have people in Washington who are on our payroll.”

  Palmer sipped his coffee and stared hard at Khan, wondering what was really going on here. He couldn’t picture The Yih King throwing up their hands and admitting defeat, asking the FBI to do their dirty work for them. On the other hand, they’d tried and failed to stop The Red Sash for over seventy years, so maybe it was just time to give in.

  “You’re not unknown to him,” Khan said. “The Red Sash has a network of spies and informants. He has one stationed very close to you so he’ll know how the investigation goes. Any time you’ve gotten too close, this spy has steered you wrong… and they’ve helped convince those above you that you’ve lost your perspective.”

  “That’s impossible. I usually work alone. There’s nobody who could be near me often enough to do all that and not have me notice.”

  “Sometimes a man can’t see the nose on his own face,” Khan retorted.

  The tumblers suddenly clicked into place and Palmer’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been quite truthful in what he’d just said: he didn’t really work alone. He had a partner, someone who was with him so often that he almost didn’t think of her as anything other than an extension of their singular unit: Margo.

  “You’re wrong,” he said. “There’s no way.”

  “Don’t fear, Mr. Harrison. We are dealing with this on your behalf. If we are to work with you, we cannot have this spy revealing our presence to The Red Sash. You can thank us later.”

  Palmer stood up quickly, his eyes turning towards the windows facing the hotel. There were flames and smoke obscuring the building, along with a number of hotel guests fleeing to the street. A number of people inside the restaurant were beginning to crowd around the windows, eager to see what was happening.

  Khan put himself in front of Palmer. “Wait here. That woman is not your friend.”

  “Go to hell.” Palmer punched Khan across the face, knocking the slender man to the floor. Palmer jumped over him and sprinted to the door, knocking aside anyone who blocked his path.

  By the time he reached the hotel, sirens could be heard racing towards the area. He ignored a hotel staff member who yelled for him to stop, bolting inside and not slowing down until he reached his hotel room. The door was standing open and before he entered, he knew what he was going to find: Margo’s dead body, splayed across the sheets.

  To his surprise, he came face-to-face with Margo. She was dressed in only bra and panties but she held a knife in her right hand and it was dripping with blood. Four dead men lay scattered around the bedroom.

  Without any preamble, she grabbed hold of Palmer’s wrist and started dragging him down the hall. “We have to get out of here,” she panted.

  “Not out front. They’re watching the exits.”

  Margo glanced at him, her eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem surprised by any of this.”

  Palmer followed her through a service entrance, which opened onto an alleyway. Smoke from the fire had filled the area but there was no one in it and only one car parked there: a green van that was empty. “Got a visit from one of The Yih King. He told me they were coming after you. He has this strange idea that you’re working for The Red Sash.”

  The two of them stared hard at each other for a moment and Palmer knew that every word Khan had said was true: this woman who had shared his life and his bed was a stranger to him.

  “DOX. YOU haven’t changed a bit.” Gibson shook hands with the bearded man but his attention was obviously focused on the two younger people who were in the room. Alyssa stood with arms folded over her chest, eyeing Gibson with undisguised suspicion.

  Shadowman stood at the back of the room, cloaked in shadow
. His blade was housed in its baton form and lay strapped against his leg. From behind his mask, he was trying to give The Red Sash his most terrifying gaze. He wasn’t sure if an old warrior like Gibson could be intimidated but he was going to give it a go.

  “I could say the same about you,” Dox replied.

  “That’s not quite true, I’m afraid. I’m dying, Dox. I’m dying and the Yih King know it.”

  “Dying?” The look on Dox’s face made Shadowman shift. It was obvious that his mentor was shocked to learn that Gibson’s time on earth was nearing an end.

  “Nothing too dramatic, I’m afraid. Just prostate cancer. I’ve tried everything but I’ve done as much as I’m willing to do.” Gibson gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m planning to leave the organization in place, though. My agents can keep it running without me for quite awhile… many of them rarely hear from me directly anyway. I’m even thinking of taking on a protégé and trying to teach them as much as I can before the end comes.”

  “I’m sorry, Lester.” Dox sounded like he really meant it. “Why don’t you have a seat and we can talk about the Yih King.”

  “I’d rather you introduced me to your friends, especially the one in the dramatic outfit.”

  “I’m Shadowman,” came the response from the shadows. He emerged into the light and gave a nod of greeting.

  “I think I may have known your father,” Gibson said with a grim smile. “A good man if a bit undisciplined.”

  “His son is even worse,” Dox muttered. With a gesture, he indicated Alyssa and introduced her. Gibson shook her hand politely but made no move to greet Shadowman in the same manner, which suited Jack just fine.

  There was something about Gibson that put Jack on edge. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the old vigilante… it was something a little deeper. Jack thought it was like when two predators come face-to-face. Even if neither poses an immediate threat to the other, they both know what could happen if things went south and so they maintain a healthy distance.

  Remembering what Dox had said about him taking charge, Jack piped up with, “Seems to be the first thing we need to do is find the Yih King and deal with them. They’re obviously prepared for The Red Sash but I’m betting they won’t be ready for me.”