It took a few seconds for Lazarus to regain his bearings and in that time Pemberley dragged Constance to her feet. They were just getting into their car when a series of bullets began to riddle the vehicle’s side. Morgan Watts was an ace shot but he failed to hit the tires before Constance slammed her high-heel against the accelerator. The car left skid-marks on the road as it rocketed forward.

  Morgan lowered his pistol and muttered a series of curses as Eun and Abby ran to his side. They had been on the second floor when Gray’s shout had come and even with their speed, they’d arrived too late to be of any help.

  Eun slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “I knew we should have left somebody outside in case they made a break for it!”

  Lazarus, sporting a bruise on his jaw, walked towards them. “I was supposed to be watching for such a thing,” he said. “And I obviously didn’t do a good enough job.”

  “Nobody’s perfect, Chief. Not even me.” Morgan grinned and Abby laughed at her friend’s humor.

  Lazarus, however, was not laughing at all. Something about that woman seemed disturbingly familiar. And if his suspicions were correct, then Sovereign City was in terrible danger.

  ***

  666 Holder Way was in the most desolate area of town and given Sovereign’s reputation, that was saying quite a lot. The streets were lined with prostitutes and drug pushers, along with mobsters who wore their guns openly. The few police who drove through the area were all on the take and even luminaries such as Doc Daye, The Dark Gentleman or Fortune McCall entered the region with caution.

  Pemberley parked the car in a covered garage next to a decrepit looking brownstone. The windows were boarded up, there were bloodstains on the front steps and a crudely lettered sign warned “No Trespassers” on the front door. The vile doctor eyed the structure with obvious trepidation.

  “Have no fear, Doctor, the interior will be more to your liking.” Constance unlocked the front door with a peculiar-looking key and Pemberley noticed that beneath their feet were a series of shining plates, like marble.

  “What is this?” he asked, tapping at the plates with the toe of his shoe.

  “They’re electrified. If someone so much as touches the front door without inserting my key first, they’ll be burned to a crisp.”

  “Sounds a bit… over the top,” Pemberley said with a dry mouth. “Aren’t you afraid of accidentally killing someone who just comes along and knocks?”

  Constance gestured to the surrounding streets, with their plethora of scum and villainy. “There are no Girl Scouts selling their wares here, Doctor. Anyone who is here is a threat.”

  Constance led him inside and Pemberley failed to hide his shock. True to her word, the interior of the place was nothing at all like the exterior. The thick carpet on the floor was luxurious and the paintings on the wall were expensive originals. Everything that Pemberley could see was exquisite… and very, very pricey.

  “Welcome to the headquarters of Murder Unlimited, Doctor. Would you like to meet your fellow agents?”

  Pemberley nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, feeling suddenly much more confident about their chances of success than he had a few moments before. “I think that I would.”

  ***

  The membership of Murder Unlimited was soon assembled in a meeting room dominated by a circular oak table. Pemberley had been introduced by Constance first and he’d blushed a bit as she’d laid out his qualifications for membership: “Doctor Pemberley is one of the foremost surgeons and experimental scientists of our day. The full list of his accomplishments would take hours to share but suffice to say that he has worked for every major power broker in the underworld and he is wanted by every police force this side of Scotland Yard.”

  Constance then gestured to the others in the room, introducing them one by one.

  The first was an aristocratic woman dressed in Egyptian finery. With her lustrous black hair, dark eyes and beautiful figure, she looked like every description of Cleopatra that Pemberley had ever read. “This,” said Constance with a slight bow, “is Princess Femi, resurrected from beyond the grave. Cursed to a terrible state of Undeath by the priests of her time, she has been restored to life twice in the past few years, only to be returned to dust each time by Lazarus Gray.3 She is able to turn men into shambling creatures of death, bound to her will.”

  Femi smiled at Pemberley and he shivered to see that her mouth was filled with sharp teeth, obviously meant for tearing human flesh. She inclined her head in greeting, hissing out the words “God is dead,” to which Pemberley responded with a thumb’s up. He had no idea why she had said it, but he wasn’t one to judge.

  To Femi’s left was a thin man dressed all in a black suit and tie. He was bald and a thin line of scars across his pale dome was clear evidence that he’d been the recipient of some sort of procedure on his brain. The man held a small saltshaker in his right hand and as Pemberley watched, he shook a few grains of salt into his palm. Like a cat, he licked them up, murmuring slightly as he did so.

  Constance seemed to be relishing her role as host and Pemberley heard the pleasure in her voice as she introduced the bald man. “This is Abraham Klee. Born in Sovereign, his father was the notorious Dr. Adolphus Klee. Arrested for his various experiments upon the brains of the city’s dregs, Dr. Klee had one tremendous success: his own son. Thanks to a surgery performed when Abraham was only three years old, he is now able to tap into a full 90% of his brain’s capability, as opposed to the 10% that most of use. As a result, he’s faster and able to process information at an unbelievable rate.”

  Pemberley nodded, impressed. Adolphus Klee had been one of his greatest inspirations.

  The final member of the group was a heavyset man with a goatee. He wore a threadbare coat with patches on the elbows and a dingy white shirt and slacks. He seemed completely uninterested in the discussion, instead focusing on a newspaper clipping held in his right hand. “And this,” Constance said, “is Stanley Davis. He possesses a form of clairvoyance that allows him to focus his attention on an object or picture and glean details about the person who owned it, or is depicted in it. It’s not full-proof but sometimes his insights are quite interesting.”

  “Indeed they are,” Stanley said, looking up at Pemberley. He turned the newspaper clipping around and the doctor saw that it was a photo of himself, along with an account of his first arrest. “You’re a very naughty boy, Melvin. You do enjoy your work, don’t you?”

  Pemberley colored, feeling uncomfortable under the fat man’s gaze. Stanley laughed at his discomfort.

  “So you see,” Constance continued, “That we’re quite a dangerous bunch. My money bankrolls it all, Femi provides us an army of the undead, Abraham is our fighter and assassin, and Stanley is our psychic.”

  “And me?”

  “You’re our physician and scientist. Not to mention your many contacts with the underworld.”

  “And our sole purpose is to destroy Assistance Unlimited?”

  “Well… yes and no,” Constance admitted. Before she could continue, Klee spoke up.

  “We all want to see Lazarus Gray and his gang in a set of early graves but Constance’s money only stretches so far. We’ve been hiring ourselves out. The Morretti killing a week or two back? That was me, hired by The Monster to do in a gangster who owed him money. And Femi there put the shakedown on a few city councilmen, making sure they’d vote the way another client of us wanted them to.”

  Femi made a dismissive noise. “You make me sound like a common criminal. I sent several of my followers to do the unseemly business.”

  “Whatever,” Klee said with a grin. “The point is, we’re doing for the underworld what Gray does for the legit society: helpin’ them out.”

  Constance reached out and squeezed Pemberley’s hand. “But now that you’re on board, I think we’ve filled out our roster. We’ll resume taking normal jobs once our main task has been fulfilled: it’s time for Assistance Unlimited to pay for all that they’ve done!”

  Pemberley surprised even himself with the vehemence of his response. “Yes! Let’s do it! Let’s kill them all!”

  For so long, he’d been on the run, an outcast from society. At best, he was a barely-accepted flunky for more powerful men. But here, with Murder Unlimited, he was surrounded by like-minded souls. Here, he was a valued equal… and that gave him the confidence that he needed to swear vengeance on his enemies.

  “Good,” Constance cooed. “Then let’s begin Operation: Lazarus in earnest.”

  ***

  “Constance Majestros. Melvin Pemberley. Abraham Klee. All three are wanted felons. All three are currently loose in Sovereign. And I believe that all three might be working together.” Lazarus tapped the trio of photographs pinned on the wall. The entire Assistance Unlimited team was assembled around the meeting room table, including Sporrenberg, who had returned from his own investigation.

  “What makes you think Klee is involved with the others?” the German asked.

  “Just over a week ago, I heard from a friend in the police force that Klee had been spotted in the company of a veiled woman. Given how Constance was dressed today, I don’t think it’s a tremendous leap of logic to assume that she’s the person he was with. Now we have to ask ourselves why they would be joining forces. None of them is known to be a mastermind… in the past, all three have worked in service to others.”

  Samantha leaned forward. She looked stronger than she had earlier in the day, a living testimony to the skills of Assistance Unlimited’s physician, Doctor Hancock. “Maybe they’ve banded together for protection?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Sporrenberg said. “They know we’re on to them so what do they have to lose?”

  Lazarus nodded slowly, his miscolored eyes—one a dull brown, the other an emerald green—flashing with some inner realization. “Klee is something of a unique individual. His father conducted a series of experiments to enhance his hand/eye coordination. But a side effect was that his sodium levels are frequently a problem. He has to intake large amounts of salt—nearly six times what a normal man could handle.”

  Abby took the bait. “So we need to track huge purchases of salt?”

  Lazarus nodded, pointing at Eun. “When your parents ran their grocery store, you developed contacts with most of the grocers in the city, correct?”

  The young Korean grinned. “This won’t take long at all, Chief. I’ll have your answer within the hour.”

  “Good. While Eun’s working on that, I want Abby and Morgan to go through the newspaper clipping room. Find anything that might reference Constance, Klee or Pemberley, so that we can get a handle on their plans.”

  As everyone jumped into action, Sporrenberg and Samantha were left behind with Lazarus. The team’s leader sat down and looked at each. “I have plans for you two, as well,” he said.

  The German smiled, his handsome face lighting up the room. “Ja?”

  “Jakob, I want you to kill someone for me.”

  ***

  Two hours later, a disguised Jakob Sporrenberg was perched on the top of The Acme Motor Company, a sharpshooter rifle in his hands. His eye was pressed against the targeting scope and he stared intently at the street below, waiting for his target to appear.

  Right on cue, Samantha Grace stepped out of Vincent’s Haberdashery, a shopping bag clutched in her left hand. She paused at the curb, as if to summon a taxi, but when her right hand waved in the air, she was actually sending a message to Sporrenberg.

  Jakob lined up the shot, feeling a twinge of guilt run through him. The gun was filled with blanks and Samantha was merely to activate a blood packet in her blouse but it still felt weird pretending to shoot a friend.

  Though he’d be hesitant to say it out loud, that was indeed the truth. Though he’d been an agent of Hitler’s SS, the men and women of Assistance Unlimited had seen fit to trust him. In doing so, they had become part of a very small grouping: those that Jakob considered more than mere allies. They were friends and family.

  Even so, his loyalty to Lazarus was strong enough that Jakob pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot filled the air, causing a car to swerve on the street and everyone to stop where they were.

  Samantha cried out, playing her part perfectly. She fell backwards, a huge red stain blooming across her chest. She landed partially on her side, her beautiful blue eyes fluttering as bystanders rushed to her aid.

  Jakob stood up, pausing long enough for someone to notice him. Men pointed up at him, shouting curses and Jakob resisted the urge to smile. He wore a skullcap that made him appear bald, a series of scars crisscrossing the false scalp. When the descriptions came in to the police, there would be no doubt that the police and the press would quickly identify the shooter as Abraham Klee.

  Lazarus had already arranged with Doctor Hancock to take Samantha into his care at St. Mercy’s Hospital, a fact that would be slipped into the newspapers as well. It was Gray’s belief that a man as prideful as Klee would be drawn out by all this, potentially leading the heroes back to his compatriots.

  When a jaunty salute to the horrified crowd, Sporrenberg moved away from the rooftop’s edge. He was already stripping out of his disguise and by the time his feet touched down on the sidewalk a few moments later, he looked nothing at all like the man who had just shot Samantha Grace.

  ***

  When the evening edition hit the streets, Abraham Klee was among the first to get a copy. He threw it down on the table in front of Constance, his harsh face twisted in fury. “What the hell’s going on here? I didn’t shoot that girl!”

  Constance picked up the paper and scanned the article. Though her features were hidden beneath her veil, the sour smell of decomposition lingered in the air, causing Klee to keep his distance. “Mistaken identity,” she ventured, drawing a snort from the bald man.

  Gesturing to the scars on his cranium, Klee asked, “You really think there are a lot of people out there like this?”

  “Good point.” Constance folded the paper and set it in her lap. “We have a plan. This can’t distract us. In the end, it doesn’t matter. We plan to kill all of them anyway.”

  “I don’t like having the quality of my work besmirched like this. People know that I don’t screw up hits. If I shoot somebody, they’re dead. It’s that simple. This makes me look bad.”

  “And what would you like to do about it?”

  “First: go the hospital and kill her. Second: find out who looks like me and kill him, too.”

  Constance sighed. When she’d been prettier, she would have batted her eyelashes, flashed a little cleavage and gotten Klee wrapped around her little finger. But the look and smell of her face made it harder to use her feminine wiles, despite the fact that her figure was still to die for. “Abe, please listen to yourself. You’re talking about risking everything we’ve been working towards, just because your pride is taking a beating. Let it go. When all is said and done, we’ll be known as the people who killed Assistance Unlimited. That’s going to do more good for your reputation than killing a hospitalized girl ever would!”

  Klee took a deep breath and nodded, turning away from her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said, calling after him. “Just know that you’ll have time to deal with that later. All right?”

  Klee exited the room, saying nothing in response. He knew she was right but he couldn’t help it. One side effect of his surgeries had been that he found it difficult to control his immediate impulses.

  Someone was trying to make him look bad and he couldn’t sit aside and do nothing in response, no matter how much it might jeopardize the plans of his associates.

  He was going to that hospital… and Samantha Grace was going to die for good.

  ***

  Pemberley stared at the blood cells under his microscope and felt his heart skip a beat. Femi had consented to a full examination and the more he learned about the workings of her body, the more excited he became.

  When he sat up, he noticed that the Egyptian princess was still as nude as she had been during the examination. He’d offered her a gown to wear but she’d shrugged it away, stating that she was not ashamed of her body.

  Pemberley could understand why.

  Femi was lovely beyond compare and it was only the coldness of her features and eyes that kept her from being impossible to resist. Her breasts were full and desirable, with what he thought was a bit of rouge added to the nipples to enhance their color. Her stomach was flat, guiding the eye down to her mound of Venus, which she made no attempt to hide.

  Pemberley realized that she was aware of his staring and he cleared his throat, tugging at a collar that was suddenly too tight. “These tests are mind-boggling,” he said, averting his eyes from her body. “The rate of decay in your cells is much slower than in a normal human. In fact, there seems to be actual regeneration going on! I think that we might be able to use your blood as the basis for a serum that could increase life spans indefinitely! And I think that Constance’s condition might be helped by a transfusion of your blood, as well.”

  Femi curled her lips into a smile. “Is that what sets your blood racing, Melvin? All this talk of… science?” Femi let the fingertips of her right hand trace the gap between her breasts. “Are you not a man, as well?”

  Pemberley swallowed, his mouth growing dry. “Of course I am.”

  “Then why don’t you touch me?”

  Pemberley extended a hand, tentatively touching her breast. She placed her palm over his hand, encouraging him to be bolder. “Femi,” he whispered.

  “Hush,” she said, amusement illuminating her eyes. “She leaned into him, the heat of her sex radiating out from her, enveloping him. “I am a creature of strong passions, Melvin. Can you withstand them?”

  Pemberley answered by kissing her hard. He grunted when she shoved him back against his table, her inhuman strength being used to rip his belt in half. She tore off the button of his slacks, as well, and Pemberley nervously wondered what on earth he had stumbled into.

 

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