The Darkness - Jason Pinter [120]
"Jeremy killed himself," she said. "We only bring in
men who have something to lose. Unfortunately, as we
learned later, Jeremy had nothing."
"Eve Ramos," I said. "You're the Fury."
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Jason Pinter
Ramos laughed, her voice high-pitched, full of delight.
"The Fury," she said. "I always found such enjoyment in
that name. And to think how many people trembled at the
very sound of a person who might not even exist. I
suppose it works the same way with Satan and even Jesus.
Beholden to deities we will never know exist until the day
we die." Eve Ramos looked up at the ceiling. "I bet
Jeremy Robertson knows whether there is a devil."
"You manufacture this poison," I said. "I'm pretty sure
that if there is a devil, that puts you on an even keel with
him."
"Oh, Mr. Parker," Eve said as she crossed the room to
where I was standing. Then, moving faster than I knew
possible, she had gripped my throat in her hand and said,
"Who's to say the devil is a man?"
She then pushed me backward. I coughed once, but
stared her down.
"You killed my brother," I said. "Just like you're responsible for about a dozen more deaths from this drug."
"A dozen?" Ramos said. "Henry, you don't know the
half of it."
"So what do you want?" I said. "And where's my
friend?"
"Officer Sheffield is fine," she said. "Unfortunately, as
a police officer, we cannot simply dispose of your friend
until we can be certain it is done in a way that is, shall
we say, less than incriminating."
"And me? Why am I here?"
"Henry, you came to us, remember?"
"Why am I alive?"
"You're alive because you have use to me. Before you
die, you have a chance to do one last noble deed. And then
when the time comes to meet your maker, you can be sure
it will be the right one."
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345
"I don't understand," I said.
"Please," Ramos said. "Sit."
I didn't move.
"Fine. You'll be sitting enough anyway." She went to
the head of the table, pulled out a leather chair and lay
back, propping her feet up on the table. She was wearing
dark boots, dirty and worn. This was not a woman who
preferred high heels. "You are a newspaperman. I take it
you know much about our product from the reporting of
Ms. Paulina Cole."
"I read her article," I said. "And I know how you got
her to write it."
"See," she said, smiling. "I knew you were a bright
young man. There's no way Ms. Cole could have had
access to that information without anybody else knowing
about it. Yes, we fed it to Ms. Cole. And now you are
going to write another article for your newspaper. And
once that is done, you can leave this world in peace,
knowing you've kept your loved ones from harm's way."
"My loved ones?"
Eve took her feet down, leaned forward. "You came
to my attention right after your brother, Mr. Gaines, was
killed. How fortunate for us that another man was accused
of his murder, that was an unexpected bonus. But when
you figured out who pulled the trigger, we needed a way
to keep you in check. It is part of my job to learn about
people. Their families, backgrounds, careers, loved ones.
I know you have barely seen your parents in ten years. I
know you have little family or friends. But you do have
a woman who holds your heart. So piercing her would
pierce you." She smiled. "So to speak."
"My brother," I said. "You were behind it. You killed
him."
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"Guilty," she said. "When you run an organization, the
buck stops with you. When your brother learned about our
plans to diversify our product, he objected. In my line of
business you cannot have employees questioning decisions, or threatening to divulge company secrets. He came
to you, and that's when I decided he had to be dealt with."
"Dealt with," I said. "That's a pleasant term for coldblooded murder."
"Nothing around here happens without my say-so,"
Ramos said. "And if you do not write this for me, I will
take your woman, Amanda, and I will make her scream
so loud that even if you do make it to heaven, Henry, her
cries will pierce the ears of God himself.