Chapter Thirty

The next night, a few hours after midnight…

Clutching his half-finished bottle, the judge stumbled across the dark alley sometime after 2 a.m. and fumbled with his car keys.

Drinking to the point of losing control really was a bad habit, but drinking and getting behind the wheel—plus expecting charges to be dropped if you’re caught—really was the epitome of stupid.

A dark figure approached and the judge staggered and mumbled on his way by the man.

A few steps past, and something sharp stabbed the judge in the side with a single strike twisting motion. He lost his ability to breathe and stumbled, crying out, the open bottle of whiskey dropped to the dirty alley and rolled away, spilling its contents. Before he could drop to his knees, something sharp jabbed into his inner thigh and this time, he dropped hard.

He knew what that last slice had been. If the knife to his side didn’t kill him, the severed artery in his thigh would, but he figured either one and he was a goner.

The darkly dressed figure stood over him. Pulling a cloth from somewhere, the man wiped the gleaming blade clean before tucking it away. All the judge could do was lie there on the cold pavement and follow the man’s movements with his eyes.

The guy was imposing, both in height and muscle, from what the judge could see. By the way the man was dressed, he figured that someone had hired a hitman to take him out.

Leading a life of crime and abusing his power had finally caught up with him.

The lights in the alley blurred.

Once the judge stopped gasping for breath and closed his eyes, the dark form crouched and placed two fingers at the man’s neck.

After a moment, the assassin stood and walked to the end of the alley. He slid into his nondescript rental and turned the key, starting the car.

Unhurriedly, he turned on the radio. The news was on and he was just about ready to change to some rock and roll when the announcer said they had breaking news.

And now for a special report. We’ve just received word that Senator Garner and Councilman Durn have perished in a boat fire. The senator’s yacht exploded several miles out to sea, killing all those aboard. No further information is available at this time. Back to you, Rick.”

“Thank you. Yes, as you just heard Jessica, there’s been a—”

He snapped the radio off and pulled away from the curb.

He didn’t look back.

Two weeks later…

“Have you heard from him?” Dave ran a hand over his face. He didn’t turn to look at the man he’d appointed to run Erebus, but instead he kept his eyes on the dark terrain outside his office window. Normally, he drew comfort from his Santa Barbara home, but he’d felt no fucking peace in the past few weeks.

The room was growing cold.

“No,” Solomon said from where he sat in one of the two large leather chairs near Dave’s desk.

“Are they still investigating the murder of the judge?”

“Some. It’ll be considered a cold case soon. Just another random mugging.”

“Random,” Dave rasped with a disbelieving snort and turned from the darkness. “What’s random about two stab wounds and one that severed an artery?”

“Could be a homeless Vet with those skills,” Solomon said and sipped the amber in his glass.

“Find him,” Dave said tightly, and Solomon nodded quickly.

Dave rarely used that tone of voice, but when he did, a person better listen and pay attention fast.