When the Night Calls Read online

  When the Night

  Calls

  The Vengeance Trilogy

  Book One

  A Novel

  By Rashad Freeman

  Copyright © 2019 by Rashad Freeman

  www.rashadfreeman.com

  [email protected]

  www.facebook.com/rashadthewriter

  Twitter: @RashadFreeman

  http://ask.fm/writerrashad

  Click here to join the mailing list for access to special features, new releases and the monthly newsletter.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the expressed written consent of the author.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you, you know who you are.

  “Pain is the night, that necessary evil that reminds us tomorrow will come.”

  IN THE DARK

  Cold, stagnant air filled Daniel Montague’s lungs. The chill of the December wind batted at his face. In front of him lay the raging waters of the Mississippi River. The thundering rapids threatened to erase his existence. Behind him, the glow of blue and red lights danced a malevolent ballet across the moonless sky.

  The sound of sirens had all but disappeared. Now, Daniel could clearly hear the insects and other creatures of the night. They scurried through the nearby underbrush and vanished, leaving nothing but the howling wind.

  Daniel’s feet sank deeply into the thick, black, mud of the riverbank. His lips chapped from the cold air, cracking like the desert floor at first rain. The night came in and out of focus as he rubbed his cloudy eyes and grunted.

  How could he have been so careless? Trust was something you could never earn, yet somehow…somehow, he had let his guard down. His guard… it was the blanket that had kept him safe for so many years. It was the barrier against a raging world determined to do him harm. Without it he was naked, he was vulnerable, he was nothing more than a sheep left for slaughter.

  His hands trembled as he brought them to his face, burying his head deep into his weathered palms. It wasn’t fear he felt though, he was far removed from that. Instead he was consumed by something else, something much darker. It was sinister, a sensation of complete enmity. A feeling that burned so deep inside, until it was all that was left.

  He knew better, damn it he knew better. And like his father always said, you fool me once shame on you, you fool me twice and I’ll kill you. But here he stood, here at the end of it all. And his only regret lay in the fact that for all his perfect planning, he’d overlooked something so blaringly obvious.

  Not more than a year ago he first set foot on this same riverbank and continued to do so for many sleepless nights since. Funny that now this sacred place of thought would mark the end. He closed his eyes and envisioned how it all began. Slowly, the smell of damp earth and the cool touch of the night air started to fade. The flickering of lights vanished and he found himself staring at a clock.

  12:00 a.m....

  Many have seen this numerical denomination countless times, but none were as intimate with it as Daniel. The little General Electric alarm clock signaled the start of a new day, but for Daniel there was no break where one ended and the other began.

  Strange he thought, the emerald glow of the flashing numbers accented her red hair. The green, blinking light kept a metered pace with his hands. He reached out and stroked the ginger strands with his fingers, moving them out of her face.

  “Ah, that’s better,” he mumbled.

  The night was still, except for cats fighting in the alley, but in that room the spirit of New Orleans came to life. Daniel had to move fast. He worked his instruments like a magician, taking hold of her tattered flesh. She was a bleeder, he looked at his crimson colored gloves and sighed.

  Her body was lifeless on the table. She was devoid of any expression or knowledge of what had been done to her. She was a blank canvas, a clean slate that Daniel had molded and perfected. That was what he did best, removing the flaws of others, ignoring his own.

  Daniel grinned, marveling at his work and relishing the masterpiece he had created. He stepped away and gazed at her with a weary sense of fulfillment. Yawning, he blinked his eyes and felt the weight of the world holding them closed.

  He could feel himself slowly drifting away, giving into an urge that he couldn't control. Soon, it would all blend together, into a string of random images with no real meaning. He could feel it coming. It was a feeling of peace, but he knew what would come next and that was what scared him.

  A wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over him like a tsunami. He staggered, barely catching himself before he fell to the ground. Where was he? What was he doing?

  With a loud snap, the door burst open and a stubby, fat man waddled in. His glasses were askew and his dirty, blond hair was ruffled and thinning. His nose was narrow and long and when combined with his greasy hair, made for a weasel-like appearance.

  “One hell of a job, Daniel! Those are some nice ones!” Victor elated, while burying the remainder of his ham sandwich into his mouth.

  Daniel snapped awake, opening his eyes to the burning lights of the operating room. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep. He wasn’t even immediately sure where he was and it took a moment for his senses to return.

  “Time to wake her up,” Victor jolted. He eagerly prodded at the unconscious woman’s breast with his index finger.

  Daniel stared off into nothing, still unaware of what was going on. He blinked rapidly and shook his head trying to loosen up the cobwebs.

  “Danny, are you with me?” Victor asked and snapped at him.

  “Yeah…yeah, just a little tired,” Daniel replied then cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders.

  After hours plastic surgery had become all the rage in New Orleans. It was an ideal option for those who sought more discretion. It also seemed to be the perfect business for an anal-retentive, former combat soldier, suffering from sleep insomnia.

  Daniel opened his practice nearly ten years ago and raked in huge profits ever since. Victor, his partner in crime since high school, joined him five years in. He was an excellent surgeon, but his vice of groping patients made him an eager candidate for what the industry affectionately called “night slashers.”

  When he wasn’t in surgery, Daniel would sit and watch the digital numbers of his General Electric alarm clock mold into one another. It seemed to be the only thing that helped him deal with the insomnia. His life was a constant struggle between reality and dreams, one bleeding into the next until he couldn’t tell whether he was asleep or awake.

  “You can lie down now, sweetie,” Jackie said politely. The resident nurse excused herself and headed back into the lobby. She was a feisty, silver-haired grandmother and the one sole employee tasked with keeping Victor out of bed with customers. Barbara, the receptionist, had previously held the responsibility, but she was out with a broken ankle.

  “See you in a few, Jackie,” Victor said then turned back to the patient.

  The pretty redhead, who now sported brand new D cups laid back onto the bed, her head still spinning from the anesthesia. She raised her arm to rub her eyes, but the searing pain that accompanied any movement put an abrupt stop to that idea. Sighing, she looked up and found Victor gazing down on her with an awkward grin on his face.

  “If you don�
�t get tips with these, Meg, they need to set that shithole on fire,” Victor jabbed.

  “Do you really need to hold them like that?” Meg asked as she peered at Victor with raised eyebrows.

  “Oh yes. I have to make sure they set correctly, you don’t want them uneven. Dr. Montague didn’t explain that to you?” Victor retorted, his hands still fondling her sore and swollen breasts.

  Daniel shook his head and stared away. The price you pay, he thought. Victor’s five hundred-thousand-dollar investment allowed him to expand the office and take on more clients. It also reduced his workload, but Victor’s increasing desire to feel up every patient kept Daniel very uneasy.

  “Victor, I think we’re good here,” Daniel interrupted.

  Victor shot him a look then removed his hands from Meg’s breasts. He gave her a devilish wink then bit his bottom lip and made a low grunting sound. Meg screwed up her face, but Victor assumed it was from the pain she was feeling.

  Daniel huffed, barely able to hide his annoyance any longer. “You’re all set, Megan. You can go ahead and cover up. Jackie will be back to bandage you and give the aftercare instructions,” he said. He glared at Victor then walked out of the operating room.

  Victor lingered for a moment. He was still smiling at Meg, eyeing her up and down without a hint of discretion. It wasn’t until Jackie barged back in, carrying wraps and gauze, that Victor took his cue to exit.

  “I’ll be handling the follow-up next week,” Victor whispered to Jackie as he passed her.

  Jackie cut her eyes and waved him off. Turning around, she carefully sat Meg up then began to wrap her torso in Ace bandages. After that, she opened a pamphlet and went over the intensive list of post-op instructions.

  “You’ll have a follow-up visit tomorrow and then first thing next week. Who will be picking you up tonight?” Jackie asked.

  “Um, excuse me,” Victor poked his head back into the room and grinned. “We normally don’t do this, but I can take you home if you’d like,” he said.

  He gazed at Meg from the door. His beady eyes jittered back and forth with excitement. His mouth hung open like a bear trap.

  “My boyfriend should be in the lobby,” Meg said softly, wincing in pain.

  “Yeah you bonehead, go water that damn Ficus,” Jackie said angrily.

  Victor stared for a moment longer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Rolling his eyes, he huffed then stormed off, leaving Jackie to tend to Meg alone.

  Moping down the hall, Victor made his way to Daniel’s office. As quietly as he could, he cracked the door open and peeked in. Daniel looked up then continued filing papers without saying a word. Sighing, Victor pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “Am I interrupting?” Victor asked as he swung a chair around and fell into it.

  “You know, Vic, you can be a serious pig sometimes,” Daniel said and rolled his eyes.

  “Most times,” Victor snorted. “Look, if we make them they’re partly ours so we have every right to fully inspect our work. Meg’s gonna let me jiggle those fun bags, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Is this before or after the lawsuit?”

  “She paid for a premium product. I’m just providing good customer service.”

  Victor could draw a parallel to good customer service with anything he did, like when he was caught cheating on his wife with her sister. At the divorce hearing he told the judge that it would’ve been cruel for him to deprive the rest of her family the service she so delightfully enjoyed. Daniel was always at a loss for why women even gave Victor the time of day.

  “I’m heading to Whistling Joe’s for a drink. Wanna join me for a quick one or does the parole officer have your balls tonight?” Victor asked, twiddling a pen in between his stubby fingers.

  “Give me a break. You know I rule that house with an iron fist,” Daniel laughed as he shook his hand in the air. “I’ll meet you down there in ten. I gotta finish this up first.”

  “Yeah, an iron fist alright. Don’t get yourself in trouble on my account. My wild life of sex and liquor isn’t for everyone.”

  “Just get the hell out of here.”

  Victor smiled then scurried out of the door like an overfed hamster that’d seen more food. His flat feet shuffled across the floor like ice skates as he vanished down the hall.

  Daniel continued to organize his office, quietly regretting going into business with Victor. He hadn’t always been such a pig, but Victor had never been what you would call a “stand up guy.” He had a shady past and as much as Daniel tried to forget, some skeletons were too big to fit in a closet.

  There was another knock at the door and Jackie poked her head inside. “Meg’s all done and headed home. I’m taking off,” she said.

  “Thanks a lot, Jackie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She turned to walk away then stopped and stared at Daniel for a moment. “Everything okay with you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You’ve just been a little out of it lately. I worry about you, Daniel.”

  Jackie was like the mother of the office. She had a nurturing way about her and beyond protecting the patients from Victor, she felt like she had to watch over all of them.

  “I’m okay. I’ve just had a lot on my mind…work things.”

  “You take care of yourself, Daniel. You can’t leave me here with the other one. God only knows what he’ll do without a leash.”

  Daniel laughed. Jackie smiled at him then waved goodbye and left. Sighing, Daniel turned back to his paperwork. The monotonous task that never ended, where he organized the same stack of folders three times for no reason at all.

  After shuffling through his files one last time, Daniel closed everything and headed to the garage downstairs. As he stepped off the elevator, the twinge of the bitter wind stung his face. It whistled through the empty spaces and filled everything with a drab death that threatened frost bite.

  It was a cold night in January, much colder than it should be. The air was so frozen that nothing seemed to move. Daniel had to resist the urge to turn tail and head back into the warmth of the building.

  His office was in a dilapidated part of New Orleans. The garage, which sat far below sea level, had a severely weathered look. The walls were ragged and stained green with algae from the last flood. There was a strong smell of musk in the air and if it weren’t for the Porsches and Mercedes in the garage, you’d think the place was condemned.

  Daniel’s Oxford shoes pierced the eerie silence of the garage as they echoed through the emptiness. A few of his more loyal customers, the rats that resided in the building, scurried off into the dark corners at the sound of his footsteps.

  He moved purposefully, quick and methodical like everything else he did. Looking ahead to his car he grinned. The black BMW with license plates that read SLSHER was one of his most prized possessions. It was tucked into his favorite spot, away from any other vehicles in the back of the garage.

  As he neared it, the overhead lights flickered. With an ominous crackling, they fizzled and started to dim. Another crackle and the garage fell into a blanket of darkness.

  Daniel paused for a moment. He waited as his eyes adjusted. Walking through a pitch-black garage was a normal occurrence; this part of New Orleans was always losing power.

  Sighing, he slowly edged forward, shuffling his feet as he went. He knew worst case, if he stayed straight he’d walk right into his car. But he had no intention of accidentally scratching his black beauty, so he held his hands out and moved like a snail.

  A waft of air tiptoed across his neck and a chill ran up his spine, causing him to stop in his tracks. Between the scuffling of his shoes and squeaking rats, he could hear someone breathing. It was faint, but someone was there, not far from where he stood.

  Daniel strained his ears and the hairs on his arms stood on end. With a loud snap the light over his car popped on. Startled, Daniel jumped and took a step back. He looked up and gasped, but caught himself and
regained his composure.

  From the shadows behind his car a figure stepped forward and stopped near the rear door. It was a tall, thin man dressed in a gray business suit with a beige trench coat pulled over it. The man stood motionless, his face partially obscured by the dark, his hands suspiciously tucked into his pockets.

  Daniel straightened up and squinted as he tried to get a better look at the stranger. He was well dressed and had an air of confidence to his movements. He seemed capable; from his stance alone Daniel could tell he knew how to handle himself. A little voice inside of his head whispered, watch him.

  Daniel leaned closer, but the man’s face remained cloaked by the shadows. He didn’t know what to make of him and chose to stand his ground in silence. He wasn't afraid, but he'd lived long enough to be weary of strangers.

  Abruptly, the man started to move towards Daniel. His steps were long and purposeful, making quick work of the short distance between them. Daniel turned sideways as the man pulled his hands out of his pockets. Something shiny and metallic was clenched in between his fingers, but Daniel couldn’t make out what it was.

  His heart quickened and his eyes widened like an owl. He took another step back and held up his hands. He cleared his throat and readied himself for the inevitable. A life of being paid to kill had prepared Daniel for almost anything.

  The man suddenly lunged forward, almost at a run. He raised his hand overhead, the light bouncing from the gleaming object he held. It shimmered with deadly purpose as it reached its peak.

  This was it, the moment where Daniel had to weigh his reaction. Do nothing and take the risk of becoming a victim or strike hard and fast, even though he wasn’t sure if the man meant him harm.

  Time for guessing had passed. The man was too close.

  “Hey…hey!” Daniel screamed.

  AN OLD FRIEND