Arrival By Wrath Part 17

"It is a little late," the guard said with emphasis. "Mr. Argosi will probably be asleep by now." It was clear he would try anything to get them to turn around.

"We'll be quick," Preston said, staring the man down without much effort.

Without any further resistance, the guards let the two men through, continuing to eye them like hawks as they pa.s.sed.

Looking back casually, Jack kept the guards in his peripheral vision for as long as he could before closing the door. There didn't appear to be any change in behavior among the lookouts. No doubt as soon as they were out of sight, the guard would signal all of his subordinates to stay on the alert as well.

Cautiously satisfied, Jack eyed the s.p.a.cious entryway while Preston looked around. As soon as they were far enough inside and out of the view of any security guard who may have been pa.s.sing a window, both men drew their guns. The hallway was almost totally dark. Only random traces of light made their way in through the numerous windows, enough to find the stairs without much difficulty.

Quietly, they moved up the steps toward Argosi's bedroom, knowing that they would have to move through the room where he'd been accosted before reaching him. It may not have been much of a risk, but even light footsteps sounded like thunder on uncarpeted floors. The CEO would know someone was outside.

Jack was aware that the guards' presence inside the house was much less prevalent than those outside. It had been one of Argosi's personal requests. He didn't have to be a detective to know that any man stationed within earshot of Argosi's bedroom would get an earful of him f.u.c.king that playmate he kept with him at all times.

There were few lights on along the journey, but Jack remembered the layout of the upstairs from when he'd visited the beleaguered CEO after arriving home from the hospital.

The journey through the house was uneventful. Even the loud footsteps on the floorboards apparently didn't cause the man to stir.

They had arrived at the door to Argosi's bedroom. It was predictably closed, with a mumbled sound of soft ethereal music coming through. There was just enough light for Jack to see his partner signal the count of three before he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. Guns drawn, Jack took the lead. Immediately, both men trained their weapons on the bed.

There was a single light on in the bedroom, emanating from the teleconferencing monitor on the far wall. It offered just enough of a glimpse to absorb the unsettling sight before them.

Argosi and his mistress, Alexandra, were on the bed completely nude, save for their faces. Each wore a white Noh mask. The detectives recognized them as those which had been hanging on the wall, now tied with white silk ribbons around their heads.

Each face stood out in the dim light, almost as if they were glowing.

Their bodies below the masks were absolute contradictions. Argosi was aged and flabby, the result of too many martinis and late nights. Alexandra was toned and gorgeous through and through. Although their bodies couldn't have been more different, they appeared to wear the same face, virtually identical save that each presented a different emotion.

Alexandra portrayed Sorrow while Argosi wore Happiness.

The woman was on top of the CEO, grinding him in a disgusting display. She barely seemed to notice their presence.

Jack instantly recognized the Sorrow mask that Preston had been examining the last time they had come to the mansion together. He saw it completely as Alexandra turned to face them. She rose over Argosi, then kneeled beside him when she noticed they were there. Her eyes were bright behind the material, standing out like the mask itself.

The ethereal sounding music coming from the stereo had no vocals. The combination of visuals and sounds felt like the detectives had walked into a bad dream, gestating quietly behind the door.

"Freeze," Jack said, barely commanding them. He found it unlikely that they had a weapon. He would have laughed had the scene not been so disquieting.

Both lovers were now looking toward the two detectives. Preston flipped on the light switch, bathing the room. He walked over to the stereo and turned off the music.

"You've got to be kidding me," Preston said with slight disgust.

Jack stood with his weapon at the ready, still processing the image they had walked in on.

It was then that Jack got a good look at his partner. On the way in through the house, it had been mostly dark. He saw that Preston's face was sullied and swollen. Dried blood clung to all of his clothes, but he'd managed to clean it off his skin, probably in the rain on the way over.

With the lights on, they could all see each other clearly. Alexandra's stomach displayed the l.u.s.t tattoo. Argosi's left thigh said Greed.

"Jesus, Detective Burroughs," Argosi stated with concern, "what happened to you?"

"Shannon was right," Preston mumbled, practically to himself.

Jack noticed that his partner looked eerily distant, not unlike the addicts he'd described in the alley. He actually wanted him to answer Argosi's question.

"Can I help you detectives with something?" Argosi said, his voice m.u.f.fled through the mask. Despite the fact that the message was barely audible, Jack picked up on the playful tone in Argosi's voice, as if to say Well, you finally figured it out. Took you long enough.

"You're under arrest," Jack said to the two of them.

Argosi removed his mask first, revealing a slightly defeated smile matted with sweat. Alexandra removed hers next.

"So," she said, just as playfully as Argosi. She was still naked and making no effort to conceal herself. "Which of you wants to frisk me?"

"You realize you can't take me in," Argosi said coolly, now fully clothed alongside his girlfriend. "There's no protection you can provide if our boss finds out we've been arrested."

"A big strong pair of detectives," purred Alexandra, eyeing them both with an expression that bordered on ravenous hunger. "I think they could hold their own."

"You'll have to pardon l.u.s.t," Argosi said, addressing both detectives. "It isn't just a name with her."

"From what I've seen," Preston responded, "it isn't just a name with any of you."

The four of them sat uneasily in Argosi's living room. Preston had allowed them to put on some clothes before ushering them downstairs. His gun had been trained on them the entire time, especially when he made the pair walk ahead of the detectives on the way down in the intermittent darkness.

Admittedly, seeing Alexandra in the buff had been a high point in recent days eclipsed only by the realization that Preston was finally nearing the end of the long sad trail that was the Bloodstrife case.

Argosi had informed the guards outside that they would be having a discussion inside the mansion, ensuring there were no intrusions.

Both suspects were drinking a room temperature red wine which appeared no different than Argosi's bloodstains on the carpet upstairs which, when the lights had been turned on, could be seen rolled up neatly in the corner of the room.

An antique wall clock that appeared to be as old as Chicago itself hung on the wall beside them, ticking loudly. It easily added to the tension in the room. Preston hadn't remembered such a thing in Argosi's possession the last time he'd been there.

"I think you overestimate your boss," Jack said seriously. "Wrath, was it?" He continued, eyeing both of them as he tried to find something to use against them in their body language.

The couple looked surprised at the mention of the name, appearing to display their emotions openly. Argosi took a semi-nervous sip and placed the gla.s.s down with a clang.

"Yes," Preston affirmed. "I had a little run-in with your friend Sloth tonight."

"My G.o.d," Argosi said, leaning back into the couch. "She was who put you through the wringer." The CEO appeared almost in awe as he spoke. "Tell me, how did you survive?"

"She's dead," he responded flatly, choosing to offer nothing more. "That's all that matters." Preston felt no need to elaborate on horrible images he'd seen. More important, despite what he and Jack had been through with Gluttony, Preston wasn't entirely sure his partner would believe what she could do or that she had ended her own life.

Argosi's face showed no surprise at the news of his comrade's death. Alexandra appeared more shaken. With discomfort, her eyes s.h.i.+ed away from the other occupants of the room, looking downward.

Jack continued to gauge the situation, reading into both the suspects' and his partner's emotions. He'd already been filled in on what transpired before they burst in on Argosi. It sounded like a textbook bust. From the familiar sullen expression on Preston's face, it looked like he knew this Sloth like another member of his immediate family had died.

The wounds on his face and hands had begun to swell. He appeared inflated, like air was filling up under his skin. One of his eyes was swollen shut almost completely, beginning to take on a dull shade of dark blue. Had Jack known his partner was in such bad shape, he would have forced him to go to the hospital first.

"It's too bad," l.u.s.t replied, for the first time accenting some form of genuine emotion in her speech. "She said she was rather fond of you." Then after a pause, she continued, "she said you had a good heart; corruptible, but good."

"Enough," Jack ordered, unwilling to let the suspects get the best of Preston in his clearly fragile emotional and physical state. "We're going to call in our friends outside and bring you in. We should be discussing this at the station already anyway."

"Hold on," Preston said to his partner. "I hate to say it, but Argosi's right. Doctor Morrissey said the same thing he did, that we can't protect them."

"It's true," Argosi reiterated. "You think that attempt on my life was the real deal? That was a message, pure and simple. If he wanted me dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Did she put up a good fight?" l.u.s.t chimed in, to the chagrin of the room. She no longer seemed emotionally compromised. Now, she was a blank outside observer, asking only the questions which interested her most.

"Listen, Argosi, or whatever the h.e.l.l your name is," Preston said, choosing to ignore the off topic remarks of his mistress. "I want to know all about this boss of yours. What's his real name, where he is, and how well is he connected?"

They both chuckled, trying to hold it back.

"Look," Argosi said. "Like I asked you before, you didn't care about the lesser crimes as long as you stopped BS, right?"

"All I want," Preston said solemnly, leaning in, "is Wrath's head." Jack could see his partner was angry. The corners of his mouth were shaking with rage. Preston had clearly been in a lot more trouble than he'd let on.

"And all I want," Greed responded with a smile, "is everything else."

"Ohh," l.u.s.t said happily, "this works out perfectly for us."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked instantly.

"Since we started this whole experiment four months ago, my corporation has been hemorrhaging money," Greed responded in kind. "He's been bleeding me dry, taking away everything I've built up over my life."

"That explains why you came to us with the Phillips factory intel," Preston said.

"My little way of telling him I'm still necessary, as is Myers-Echowan."

"Money is just the start," l.u.s.t offered. "Status, t.i.tle, real estate-we're on the verge of losing everything, and now with your little discovery, our lives also."

"The Phillips Corporation is a dummy company which I use to funnel funds from Myers-Echowan to our Bloodstrife interests." Argosi was practically enjoying his admission. Just as Preston was trying to suppress his rage, Argosi was trying to suppress a jubilant smile. It was clear that even he knew it wouldn't be beneficial to be too happy about the situation.

Jack a.s.sumed he'd been forced to keep it to himself for much longer than the four months the drug had been active on the streets, possibly years, according to the information retrieved by McGovern.

"Four months ago, when you found those tubes, that was Wrath's way of keeping me in line when I saw how much this operation was going to cost; a reminder. I had threatened to quit, but we both knew it was against my nature."

"We already knew it was too expensive to be profitable," Jack said bluntly. "So tell us what the real reason is they do it. Why produce Bloodstrife at all?"

"I don't know," Greed said with a defeated smile and a lazy shrug. Immediately, he finished off his gla.s.s of wine and began to pour himself another. "Just imagine how frustrating it is to see all your worldly possessions evaporate around you and never know the reason why."

"What about the catalyst?" Preston asked. "Surely you know about that."

"No," l.u.s.t said, shaking her head. "He just supplies us with enough of the stuff to keep us going."

"Like the rest of the corpses we came across with tattoos," Jack said, still absorbing information, then slinging another question at the two dealers. "They were all loaded with that stuff." He directed his next comment toward Argosi. "Why does he turn people into monsters?"

"Monsters?" l.u.s.t said, taking offense. "Not all of us are freaks. Look at Pride. She was practically immortal. She would have lived forever except that she decided to do herself in. And Gluttony; well, despite his appet.i.te, he was needed for security and lifting pallets of product onto the trucks. Seems like a fair trade for a man who could barely stand on his own to begin with."

"I'm sure Sloth appreciated her gifts as well," Greed said with mild hostility, conveyed openly to the room. Everyone knew it was aimed solely at Preston.

Preston flashed back to Shannon's words regarding her broken spine. Even if he'd been able to get her away from Wrath, without a steady infusion of that poison, she would have been bound to that chair for the rest of her life. For all he knew, it was the only thing keeping her alive.

"What about you two?" Preston asked without showing his feelings. "What can you do?"

"I just need to keep the money flowing in. I'll do it, too. I'm too d.a.m.n greedy to escape," Greed said, slightly annoyed. "Once I get off his poison, I'll probably die. That's the noose around each of our necks. The others all gain amazing powers, but are either killed in the line of duty or done in by their own proclivities, like our dear sweet Pride. I, however, will live on, doing what I do best-his favorite p.a.w.n."

"I'm here to keep him happy," l.u.s.t offered with less melodrama and a concise explanation.

"That's it?" Jack asked, expecting more.

"Well, if you have someone who runs a business well, you want them to stick around," Greed said. "I'm a little older than I look, just like Pride was."

"How did you get your tattoo past the hospital staff?" Preston asked, taking the lead. "I had them search you, remember?"

"They didn't find it because it wasn't there."

Memories flashed of how deplorable Argosi had looked at the time. Jack had confirmed a similar appearance after the CEO had arrived home from the hospital.

"You stopped taking the drug before the attack. You looked that way because you were dying, growing older," Preston said aloud. "You knew that the man was coming for you and that you'd have to undergo a physical evaluation after the attack."

"Well, I suppose I did look a little older," Argosi confirmed, albeit dubiously. He stroked his chin, attempting to portray a wisdom which, Preston knew, he lacked. "Still, it was a risk. I had no way to be sure when he would find me. Bragging about taking down your employer's factory is bound to merit punishment."

"Where does Envy factor into all of this?" Jack asked as his partner was still wrapping his head around the latest volley of ambiguous answers.

"What?" Greed asked with confusion. "Who said anything about that one?"

"Exactly," Preston said, jumping back in. "He or she is the only one you never mentioned. Are they guarding another factory?"

"Can't be sure," Greed offered, turning his head to look out the window. Although the lights were on in the room, he could tell the security guards were watching them from the shadows on the lawn. "G.o.d only knows where she is these days; probably with Wrath, I'd say." He exhaled deeply, clearly contemplating his next steps. Preston had seen it a thousand times from informants. They were throwing their whole lives away, and they knew it. "As far as I know, there are no more factories; not if you've really killed Sloth."

"We believe there's at least one," Preston said, wondering how much he should bring them up to speed.

"That's where they both are then," Argosi responded, no longer curious. "I don't think it's a full-scale factory, though. I'd say that's where they catalyze Bloodstrife, nothing more. Of course, in recent days I'm sure they've had to make a few changes to ensure supply wasn't disrupted."

"If you don't know Wrath's real name, can you at least tell us about Envy?" Jack asked. He'd stopped trying to retain all the information spilling out of Argosi's mouth and taken out his notepad. His pen stood at the ready. The paper was full of messy scribbles, trying to regurgitate what had transpired already onto the paper.

"Not much. You've met him before, though," Greed offered with a smile and a quiet chuckle. "She spoke to you in that alley, using one of those puppets."

Preston recalled the man with the dilated eyes who, in the drop of a hat, lost himself. It was as if he was a different person entirely, being controlled from some outside force.

"I can see it's coming together," l.u.s.t said seriously. "Don't worry; I'm sure you'll run into him again."

"Puppets?" Preston asked, now caught in the eerie atmosphere of the room. "Where are the strings?"

"Well," l.u.s.t said. "I'd say in most cases you see them on the arms and neck. Is that where they were?"

"Veins?" Preston muttered to himself.

l.u.s.t offered a silent nod of confirmation, then turned to her wine gla.s.s, as if the detective no longer held her interest. After taking a sip, she placed the gla.s.s on the table, appearing bored as she began to fidget in place like a restless child.

"What else can you tell us?" Jack asked the two of them.