Extreme Liquidation: Caitlin Diggs Series #2 Read online

  Four flights of stairs later, a door creaked open, revealing a half dozen DC officers. Their presence filled the hallway. Two of the men chatted between static, maintaining constant radio communication with officers stationed outside the building. Three others studied a schematic of the building, never breaking eye contact with their map. The remaining officer, Lt. Ken Barringer, appeared unoccupied. He wore plain clothes and had piercing gray eyes. He perused the agent’s ID badges as if he intended to bore a hole through them. Diggs immediately sensed the lieutenant’s disdain. He had been ordered to pass the baton to the FBI. Before more bad feelings could fester, Diggs jumped right to her first question.

  “Is there access to the ledge from all rooms on this hallway?”

  Barringer nodded. He pulled a map from pocket. A red circle highlighted Salinger’s suite—4L.

  Diggs suggested Rivers position herself in suite 4M.

  Rivers pulled a cell from her lime green jacket and headed for her destination. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Diggs searched Barringer’s eyes for a challenge, but received none. “We’ll be handling it from here, lieutenant.” He nodded again and began dialing a phone.

  Diggs stepped into the suite, closing the door behind her. A ring tone startled her despite Rivers’s forewarning.

  Rivers confirmed she had access to the ledge. Diggs advised her to steer clear of the window until instructed. Gingerly stepping toward the open aperture, Diggs began to speak.

  “Gregory Salinger, this is FBI Special Agent Caitlin Diggs. I’m a friend of Assistant Director Dudek. He sent me here to talk to you. Please try to relax.”

  A tense moment passed before Salinger answered. “My life has been taken away from me, Agent Diggs. I’m sorry we had to meet under such trying circumstances. I consider a friend of Andrew...a friend of mine, but you and I know there isn’t any other way out of this.”

  “Why do you feel this way?” Diggs fired back the question simply to maintain communication, believing Salinger would elaborate about how he let America down as Homeland Security chief.

  His response surprised her. All he could talk about was his wife, Carrie.

  “Maybe she could forgive an affair, but Carrie would never condone murder. I can’t go back because of what my wife will think of me. I could live with the wrath of the public, do a jail term, maybe even become a dead man walking on death row, but I can’t live another moment knowing I foolishly betrayed my Carrie.”

  Although Diggs could barely see him, she had heard the desperation in his voice. The despicable act he had committed made Salinger realize his marriage meant more than any job. Diggs recalled the powerful emotions she had experienced upon losing McAllister. Theorizing love might send Salinger off the ledge at any moment, she whispered her orders into the phone, instructing Agent Rivers to crawl out on the ledge.

  “Director Salinger, I want you to stand very still. Another friend of A.D. Dudek’s is coming out to see you. Don’t be alarmed. She’s here to talk to you.”

  Rivers cleared the window and froze, unable to rise off her haunches. The throng of people below suddenly reminded her of a collective waterfall, waiting to swallow her and Salinger whole. Her mind raced. Agent Diggs never suggested what she should say. She searched her soul, praying gut instinct might actually give her the right words. Rising from her crouch position, she slowly put a hand on the building’s façade to maintain her balance. Salinger stood no more than two meters away from her now. Instinct told her she must act now. She blurted out the first words she could think of.

  “I think I know Carrie from how dearly you speak of her, Mr. Salinger. She sounds like quite a woman. You should consider Carrie’s feelings. I think she would want to see you again despite your actions. I also believe further investigation might conclude you were coerced into behaving the way you did. People forgive, Mr. Salinger. Women can forgive. Trust my woman’s intuition. I think you’ll see living is the best course to take.”

  Rivers bit her lip, forcing her eyes away from the crowd below. Her right palm dug against concrete. She knew with all her soul she would never jump to her death, no matter how bad things got. At the same time, she hoped her impromptu speech hadn’t come off like some lines in a movie—or worse, the stale rhetoric of psychiatry.

  Diggs reinforced her partner’s plea, leaving Salinger no time to argue.

  “Listen to Agent Rivers, sir. She has been in contact with Carrie. She wants you to come inside.”

  Diggs waited desperately for an acknowledgement. She had lied to Salinger, but believed Carrie would have said the same thing, given the chance.

  Outside, Rivers panted for air, fighting a severe case of anxiety.

  Salinger turned to her in one surreal motion, the way people seem to move in and out of focus in a dream. Deondra became consumed with this living nightmare, fearing the director might call their bluff and ask to see Carrie personally.

  Salinger only mumbled catatonically. “Yes, it’s the best course of action. I now see that.” His eyes turned clouded and unfocused. Rivers stretched her arm toward him. From the window, Diggs could see the director was fast becoming incoherent. She spied a pole behind his head.

  “Mr. Salinger, please grab the flagpole behind you. Agent Rivers will then assist you so you can come inside, so you can see your wife again.”

  A scene flashed through Salinger’s mind. He saw himself murdering Alyssa. He heard his rant, how he accused his wife during the struggle. He witnessed the anger taking complete control. And when he saw himself holding Alyssa’s severed head in his hand, he heard the voices of paranoia buzz about his brain. He realized he would still have to deal with whoever had set him up. Maybe these people would harm Carrie. He began to stammer, ignoring Diggs’s command.

  “It’s the best course of action for us all. Come with me, Agent Rivers. You’ll be safe from them. Forever.”

  He pulled Rivers’s arm as if it were a rope, sweat pouring off his brow despite the frigid temperature. Rivers lurched forward, screaming. Diggs shouted over the roar of the crowd below.

  “Agent Rivers, grab the flagpole!”

  Rivers right arm swung haphazardly at the protruding iron rod above her. It was within reach, only a half foot away. Her forearm banged against it. Salinger wrapped his hands about her waist in the same instant. A torrential flood of sweat was spilling off Salinger’s arms now. With her free hand, Rivers tried to pry his slippery hands off her. Salinger lost his bear-hug-like hold, but only for an instant.

  Diggs screamed again for Rivers to take hold of the pole, realizing Salinger was a lost cause to whatever demonic influence had commanded him to murder. She launched herself onto the adjacent ledge while Rivers and Salinger engaged in a precarious dance with death. They swayed back and forth as if the ledge was a ballroom dance floor.

  Salinger continued to plead with Rivers. “Come with me. I really don’t want to go alone.”

  Rivers jutted her knee against Salinger’s chin, momentarily breaking his grip. In the same instant, she jumped up, grabbing the flagpole with both hands. This lifted her feet off the ground, so she could kick her right boot into Salinger’s chest. Rivers prayed this would disable the crazed director for another few seconds but also keep him on the ledge. Diggs crawled along the ledge, seconds passing like hours. With the aid of the flagpole, Rivers’s body swung backwards toward the building and away from Salinger as if she were a human pendulum.

  Salinger seized the opportunity to roll backward uninhibited. Rivers grabbed fleetingly for the director’s hand, but it whizzed by her in a blurry instant. Then, as if time had suddenly become warped, she watched his horrifying descent in slow motion. The director had completely missed the netting below. Fighting an urge to vomit, Rivers heard Diggs’s voice. It sounded motherly and suggested she look upward, but the sky began to swirl like a Van Gogh painting when she did. And for what seemed a very long moment, Agent Rivers truly believed she could not tell up from down anymore.

 
Chapter 4

  A shapely young woman stands on a wooden altar wearing a coy grin. She smiles every time they refer to her as the Priestess. Her canonical robe hangs half open, mocking the once sanctimonious surroundings of the abandoned church she frequents. Two men attired in hooded robes openly leer at her exposed breasts in anticipation. Sparse light from black candles reveals the faint outline of an upside-down crucifix hanging from a wire above. The men continue to wait anxiously within the confines of a white, chalk-drawn circle, knowing the midnight hour is fast approaching. They allow hazel incense to permeate their senses. It arouses them as they imagine the scent belongs to the beautiful half-naked woman standing before them. When the time comes, they will engage in sex, and ingest psychotropic drugs, all for the purpose of respecting the rites of their weekly Black Mass. Ultimately, they believe this respect will bridge the gap between intent and reality.

  As a bell signals midnight, the woman claps her hands twice and speaks.

  “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.”

  A man with a lock of gray hair sprouting from his purple robe answers her in a baritone voice. The color of his clothes indicates he is the Master of the ceremony.

  “Love is the law, love under will.”

  The second man, dressed in a black robe, takes his turn to speak.

  “There is no law beyond. Do what thou wilt.”

  The woman Priestess stares upon this man’s form. His black robe cannot conceal his youth and energy from her. She drinks from a chalice, licks her lips and begins moaning something resembling a chant. It leads the younger man to the altar where he begins kissing her stomach. Pleased, the woman drinks from the chalice again and laughs heartily. The purple-clad Master folds his hands as if he is blessing their union. As they engage in sex, the Master speaks once more.

  “Magic is the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will.” The ceremony plays out exactly as it always has.

  As a trinity, the two men and woman faithfully quote the writings of Black Magician Aleister Crowley before every mass. They hope to incorporate the will of the late British occultist into their beings. They partake in promiscuous sex and hallucinogenic drugs to become stronger, so one day they will no longer have to rely upon outside influences...

  Six months ago, the Master recruited his estranged wife’s younger sister and an officer of the law into this coven with the promise of mind-blowing drugs and sex. The sister-in-law and the officer converted easily, their focus on life changed radically. A once demure woman, she shed society’s shackles simply by becoming a Priestess in the Master’s flock. The man in black chose to continue his work in law enforcement while becoming the Master’s apprentice. The Master instilled patience and self-esteem into them, realizing strength must be acquired over time. Sometimes a full week’s time elapsed between the masses for the purpose of recovery. At the end of these masses, the Priestess and the hulky man in black are usually only able to muster feeble attempts at language, their bodies spent from fornication and drug abuse. All believe their wanton sacrifices bring the world one step closer to the Master’s sinister goals.

  The man in purple began to hone his skills many years ago, under the guise of a suit. Will allowed him to rise to the position of power and influence he holds today. The Master is a firm believer in magic because he knows he never possessed a talent or a natural ability to gain his own power.

  By reading Crowley, the Master absorbed radical new ideas on how to live life. As his career progressed, he silently scoffed at the non-believing masses that blindly followed another man’s will as if they were lambs. And like Crowley, the Master wondered why men should waste energy on anything but their own advancements. He loved Crowley’s writings so much; he framed several of the occultist’s quotes including the following:

  “Destiny is an absolutely definite and inexorable ruler. Physical ability and moral determination count for nothing.”

  The Master believed in his destiny. He chose a path to rise above men. He didn’t believe this could happen without sacrifice. For this reason, he began to set events in motion that directly violated his country’s best interests.

  Three days following the last mass, the Master met with the man who wore the hooded black robe. They spoke of controlling destiny with the aid of a new drug.

  Seated at a café, the Master laughed in response to the success of his plan. He clinked his wine glass with his Apprentice in celebration.

  “Our efforts are beginning to pay off. Day by day, the masses grow suspicious of their leaders. They feel duped into having trusted a lunatic with the security of their nation.”

  The man in black nodded dutifully. “The demise of Greg Salinger is a big step in the right direction.”

  “Indeed. Actually, it looks like we’ve gotten more than we bargained for.” The Master sipped red wine, savoring the fruit. “I only intended the girl to die. But the suicide of Greg Salinger confirms the power of intent.”

  Excited, the Master hoped his Apprentice shared his joy. The man in black appeared sullen.

  “Master, I must confess something.”

  “Confess what?” The Master began to search the man’s eyes for the smallest semblance of betrayal.

  “I sometimes feel as if I am cheating. I had hoped to achieve this intent with will alone. I do not take pride in the fact that we’ve relied on drugs to aid our cause.”

  Relieved, the Master smiled, reveling in his Apprentice’s humility.

  “My friend, we are striving to meet an objective. One day we will attain our goals without crutches. Remember, we only completed the first phase. One day soon, you and the Priestess will become fully enlightened on how I intend to sacrifice the rest of humanity to aid our endeavor. Until then, I suggest we follow the party line.”

  The Apprentice raised his eyebrow in confusion.

  “The party line, Master?”

  “Why, we must stay the course. And thanks to you, we are. You were the one who successfully wooed Drake Sutter to give us our magic.”

  The Apprentice laughed heartily, fully taken in by his Master’s charms.

  “I might not call it wooed. Still, you are right...as always.”

  The Apprentice spent the next minute in reflection, sipping his drink. He had begun to transform under the Master’s training in the last six months. He had used tact to coerce Sutter to sell him the psychotropic drugs he had originally created for the military. The Apprentice had always relied on force to get his way. For him to sit idly by, listening to Sutter rant about how the military used his drugs to kill his son had been torture. He had wanted to rip out the smug bastard’s throat. But he hadn’t . And because he used self-control, he had obtained a key for his beloved Master.

  An ant crawling on the ground caught the Apprentice’s eye as he continued to daydream. It brought him back to the present. He lifted his foot and smashed it to mush.

  The Master laughed with cynicism. “Old habits die hard.”

  “I think I’m channeling some of Sutter’s anger, wherever he is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I felt how bad he wanted to take revenge on the military for infecting his son with his rage drug. I promised him we would make the military pay and stop the war.”

  “Your promise will be kept. We’ll be stopping the war all right. But not in the fashion Mr. Sutter thinks.”

  ***

  He had fled to Anegada, one of the British Virgin Islands, after selling his biopharmaceutical firm. He told many of his colleagues his health mandated a stress-free retirement. For billionaire Drake Sutter, the story held some merit. His health had been poor after losing his son in the war and his wife to suicide.

  The past six months had given Sutter a great tan but it couldn’t conceal what ate away at his insides. He had fled the US after selling his biopharmaceutical research to what he deemed black market scum. He never wanted to deal with low-life scum like the man who had met with him in Washington
. But the man who dressed in nothing but black promised to keep the illegal drug deal a secret. And apparently even low life scum can be trusted to keep promises.

  The deal had effectively turned Sutter into the scum he despised. He knew this. He had made a deal with the devil to take revenge upon the military. In a way, Sutter felt justified in a biblical eye-for-an-eye way.

  Despite his reasoning, he still needed to unburden his soul even at the risk of exposing his misdeeds. He had found a woman named Brenda who offered him companionship, but not without a price tag, he surmised. She sat with him as they stared into sparkling blue water. If he had to pay this woman for her companionship he would make her work for it. He would make her his sounding board so he could rail at life’s ironies, including how he had sold his life’s work to a man who never even gave him his name.

  “Do you know what it feels like to lose everything?” he asked the trim brunette. She sat with legs crossed in a chaise lounge adjacent to his.

  The question prompted Brenda to uncross her legs. Still, she held a smile. Sutter knew the type. Barracudas that preyed upon rich old men like him set up residence in remote islands like this one. Here, they could woo an old coot into marriage.

  “Whatever you lost,” Brenda said,” I can help you replace it.”

  Sutter shook his head with admiration. The women could act. For a moment, he really believed she cared. He avoided her gaze and stared into the sparkling blue water before them.

  “I lost my son in the war when the military... using my own biopharmaceutical...infected him with a rage drug. It got him killed. And then in response, my wife overdosed on anti-depressants. I don’t suppose you could ever imagine that kind of grief. You’re much too young. But I will tell you one thing. No amount of money in the world can help.”

  “Why on earth would the military do such a thing?”

  Sutter snorted at the innocence of the woman’s question.