Black Scorpion (41 page)

Michael saw the Seven Sins growing majestically before him as the Tyrant Phantom Class, custom-made black helicopter soared straight for the resort's roof atop the Forbidden City. It gleamed beneath the sunlight like a palace of old, an oasis of hope amid a rising tide of decadence and destruction. Saving all he'd built, preserving it, was only part of the greater responsibility he bore, a microcosm rooted in symbol. He had made himself into an American, a businessman, a casino owner, and finally a tycoon. But all of that paled in comparison to what he must accept himself as now and forever if the madness that enveloped the world was to be beaten back:

The Tyrant.

*   *   *

The chopper landed on the roof, Michael and Naomi taking the private glass elevator straight down through the Daring Sea to his bubble glass office at the very bottom, while Alexander remained with Scarlett. Michael brought Naomi up to date on what had transpired in Caltagirone quickly as the cab whirred downward, continuing even after the glass doors had opened again at the entrance to his office.

“I'm speechless,” was all Naomi could manage. “Raven Khan, after we tried to find her for so long … And what happened at the farm, the
three of you
all in the same place…”

“Right. The children of Vito Nunziato together for the first time. Talk about your twisted family reunions,” Michael continued, finally stepping out of the elevator.

Naomi followed him past his two assistants who rose respectfully. She moved straight with Michael for his desk, piled high with work that had built up in the three days he'd been gone. Watched him place an old ledger down carefully, separate from the pile.

“My father's journal,” Michael explained. “Reading it was like meeting him for the first time. Because that's what it was, at least the man he really was.”

“A hero, by the sound of things.”

“He was a hero afterward, too, just a different kind. Speaking of which,” Michael continued, plucking an old black-and-white photo, tattered at the edges, from the back of the journal and handing it to Naomi.

“Who's this?”

“Hans Wolff, the worst of the Nazis my father was sent to pursue and one of the worst who escaped justice, period. Let's see if we can figure out what became of him after he escaped that village in Romania.”

“You're not thinking of going after Wolff, are you?” Naomi said, her voice laced with concern. “Finish the job your father couldn't?”

Michael shook his head. “He'd be in his nineties now. I just, I just need to know what happened to him, where he ended up in life.”

Naomi looked at the picture again, then tucked it in against her. “It's that important to you?”

“A missing piece, and I'm tired of having so many missing pieces in my life. Find everything you can about whoever Hans Wolff became after he left Romania in 1959, after my father let him live in order to save the woman he loved.”

Naomi studied him briefly. “You take after your father, Michael. You never realized it before because you never realized what kind of man he really was.”

“Are you going to ask me how that feels now?”

“I don't have to, because I already know.”

“Everything changed the day of the massacre, more so than I ever realized before. I already knew the man I am was born that day, but so was Black Scorpion.”

“And if Vladimir Dracu had managed to get his hands on the relic at the farm?”

“I don't know, Naomi, I truly don't.”

“You haven't said much about what the girl uncovered.”

“The girl?”

“Scarlett Swan, Michael.”

“I've got enough on my mind right now without chasing myths.”

“But if she's right, and the medallion does exert some incredible power…”

Michael let her comment hang, remaining silent.

“At least we now have an explanation for how DNA that was a fifty percent match for yours was found in that girl who was murdered in Turkey,” Naomi resumed.

“What was her name?”

“Amanda Johansen.”

“She was killed because of me. Dracu impregnated her, because of me. It was all a setup. Black Scorpion's doing.”

Michael's phone buzzed.

“Yes,” he called toward the speaker.

“The FBI is here, Mr. Tiranno,” came the voice of one of his assistants.

“Tell them I'll be right up.”

“Er, sir, they're already coming
down
.”

Michael stepped back into the reception area just in time to see Del Slocumb emerge from the glass elevator, followed by five men wearing FBI windbreakers with badges dangling from lanyards on their necks.

“Welcome home,” Slocumb said, grinning.

 

NINETY

L
AS
V
EGAS,
N
EVADA

Slocumb waited until his entourage had escorted Michael up to the lobby, where a bevy of paparazzi stood shouting questions with cameras at the ready, to hand him a triply folded set of pages that Naomi promptly snatched out of the air.

“Michael Tiranno,” he said, working to hold back another smile, “I hereby inform you that your license to operate a casino in the State of Nevada has been suspended by the Nevada Gaming Commission, pending a scheduled hearing before the Gaming Control Board. Further, it's my duty to escort you from these premises and ensure that you don't return until that suspension is lifted. Any questions?”

Michael held to his composure, viewing the five agents accompanying Slocumb with a smirk. “Did you really need all this backup, Agent?”

“You're not the only one who plays better for an audience, Mr. Tiranno.”

The walk through the lobby continued in a blur, Michael passing into the blistering heat outside to be greeted by even more paparazzi being held back by Seven Sins security personnel. Alexander appeared out of nowhere, suddenly by his side, escorting him to his Lamborghini.

“Get Scarlett and Naomi to my house,” Michael instructed, as he climbed behind the wheel, taking one last look at FBI Special Agent Del Slocumb.

“You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this day,” Slocumb said.

“The clock's ticking on your fifteen minutes of fame, Agent,” Michael told him. “Just remember that small victories often lead to lost wars.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” Slocumb said, smirking.

“Do that,” Michael said, and tore off.

 

NINETY-ONE

I
STANBUL,
T
URKEY

Ismael Saltuk feasted on the view from the restaurant in Maiden's Tower at the same time he enjoyed a wonderful meal of karniyarik. The eggplants, his favorite dish, were perfectly fried with a combination of minced meat, onion, parsley, garlic, and tomato filling. Living in the dark confines of his self-imposed prison made forays like this to be cherished, especially when contrasted against the expansive views the tower offered of the city. At night Istanbul's lights twinkled, while during the day the sun shined off the Bosphorus to make the entire city seem hued with gold.

According to Turkish legend, a princess was once locked in the 2,500-year-old tower to protect her from being bitten by a snake. Later it was used as a customs station, converted into a lighthouse, and then became a residence for retired naval officers, before being turned into a prime attraction for locals and tourists alike that inevitably included a stop in its vaunted restaurant. Many patrons came by ferry, but Saltuk preferred to use the underwater Mamaray railway tunnel that ran through the Bosphorus, barely necessitating him to risk traveling above ground at all. The tunnel practically and symbolically connected the European and Asian sides of Istanbul along its near-mile-long stretch underwater.

Saltuk loved Maiden's Tower so much he never wanted to leave. Necessity, though, dictated he not remain too long in the same place and he reluctantly made his way back to the underwater rail station with his guards once his meal was complete. Passenger traffic was light this time of the evening, leaving Saltuk and his four guards with a car all to themselves.

The train picked up speed as it whisked him back to the mainland in the tunnel beneath nearly two hundred feet of water. Then, suddenly, it shook and stopped, the stalled car rocking a bit in the moment before the lights died.

Saltuk clung to his calm, a single emergency light at the far end of the car catching his men in a faint glow. He heard a thud, glimpsed a blur of motion followed by grunts, groans, and bodies falling. Saluk started to rise to head instinctively to the nearest exit, forgetting he was in a tunnel beneath sixty meters of water. That's when he felt a strong hand clamp onto his shoulder and shove him back down.

“How was your dinner, Ismael?” said Raven Khan.

 

NINETY-TWO

I
STANBUL,
T
URKEY

Saltuk's eyes adjusted enough to the single emergency light to find her hovering over him. “Was all this truly necessary, Raven?”

“You tell me, Ismael,” she said, taking the seat next to him, the frames of his four men splayed on the floor before them. “You're the one who's been holding out.”

“Paranoia doesn't suit you.”

“I became paranoid too late, trusted you too long.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You used me.”

“I don't know what you're—“

Saltuk stopped when Raved jammed a thumb against his side, driving it between two ribs to steal his breath and send a sharp bolt of pain surging through him.

“How does that feel, Ismael? Because it only gets worse from here.”

Raven pulled her thumb back and Saltuk gasped for air. “What's this about? What demon possessed you to hurt me that way?”

“You, Ismael. You're as much a devil as Black Scorpion, even worse since you used me against them, against
him
.”

“You speak madness, Raven.”

“So you didn't send me to Caltagirone knowing exactly what I'd find there?”

“I have no idea what you're—”

“Has that been the plan all along, from when you sent me to the
Lucretia Maru
? Get me to do your bidding, and kill Black Scorpion for you, by feeding me little bits of information at a time, making me think I was figuring it all out on my own. You're even more a cutthroat than I am.” She shook her head “I should've known when we met last week.”

“Known
what
?”

“The look on your face when I threatened to destroy your final original painting. All that anger and rage. But it wasn't really aimed at me, was it? It was aimed at the man who'd bled your collection dry. Tell me, is that why you decided to move against him, was that the reason?”

“Move against
Black Scorpion
?” Saltuk shot back, trying to sound shocked. “You've truly gone mad, Raven. What kind of fool do you take me for?” He laughed, the gesture sounding forced. “I might as well slit my wrists or cut my own throat to save Black Scorpion the trouble.”

“And that's where I came in, wasn't it?”

Saltuk shook his head, looking genuinely hurt. “So you take me for a monster, too … We're family, Raven,
family
.”

“You have no family, any more than Talu did. He adopted me out of guilt, ended up creating just the kind of mindless machine he needed. And you picked up right where he left off.”

“Raven—”

“You knew there was no copper on that ship, Ismael, the
Lucretia Maru
. You knew what she was carrying and you sent me on board knowing I'd find it and how I'd react, because you knew the truth of my past, where this all started for me.”

This time Saltuk remained silent.

“And then you sent me to Caltagirone,” Raven resumed. “The farm where I was born and I barely managed to survive when my parents were murdered, knowing what it would do to me, what it would
unleash
in me.”

“No, you made me tell you, you
forced
me. I only gave you what you wanted.”

“Just like it was Talu who brought me to the orphanage after he orphaned me. The gunmen at the farm the day of the massacre were his. Do I need to go on?”

“No,” Saltuk said, the word barely audible.

“The leader of Black Scorpion was there that day. He was the triggerman. I know that now. Did you? Did you rely on me finding out to give me even more reason to hate him and want him dead?” Raven shook her head again. “And I took the bait and walked right into your trap.”

Saltuk just looked at her.

“You pitted me against a monster. And if I brought him down there'd be a void, wouldn't there?”

“Please, Raven. That wasn't my cargo,
our
cargo, on board the
Lucretia Maru
. It was
Black Scorpion
's. And as long as they're calling the shots, our association with them leaves us incredibly vulnerable. If they go down, we go down, too. Everything we've built, the entire organization Talu built, would be finished. None of what I did changes the fact that Black Scorpion had to be dealt with once and for all and you were the only one who could do it.”

“Then why not simply tell me all that and ask for my help? Why all the lies and tricks?”

Raven could see Saltuk scowl even through the train car's half light. “Because I couldn't take the chance you'd say no. You're relentless, like a force of nature.”

“You should've at least tried, Ismael. You owed me that much.”

Saltuk started to reach out to touch her, then pulled his hand back. “How do you tell someone a truth they've been denying all their life?”

“I couldn't deny something I never knew.”

“Really, Raven?” Saltuk said, shaking his head slowly. “Those dreams you've been having for as long as you can remember, the effect seeing the contents of that cargo hold had on you … How was I to frame such emotions into words? How was I to tell you how Talu found you cowering beneath your mother's corpse, covered in her blood? It had to come from you, Raven, from
inside
you. I may have pointed the way, gave you the map, but you got there all on your own.”