Chaos Lives in Everything - 8. Chapter 8

Rebecca didn’t want to get up. As soon as she shut the alarm clock she wanted to roll over again and go back to sleep. On any other day she would have been able to do that, no problem, but today was not that day. There were things that had to be done; her life depended on it.

She forced herself off the mattress and into a standing position. Her head ached and her eyes burned as a stray ray of sunlight hit her eyes. No more Captain Morgan’s, she thought. As of right now I ban it completely from my life. She shuffled into her tiny kitchen, her hair down to her shoulders. She went about making coffee, making sure to put extra coffee grounds in the filter to make the coffee stronger. If she was going to make it through today she would need lightning in a bottle.

She toasted a bagel and spread cream cheese on top of it and quickly drank her coffee. She showered, got dressed, put on makeup, tried to make herself look presentable. She drank another, no two more cups of coffee. By the time she sat down in front of her laptop and set all of other equipment up the caffeine had officially hit her bloodstream. It felt as if lightning was flowing through her body.

Rebecca started with the basics, looking up Draxis Sinclaire. She found a website for his casino that spewed out the usual propaganda, how Sinclaire’s casino was one the best casinos in America. Rebecca quickly lost interest in that and went onto something else. It was fun hacking into the social security archives and getting his social security information; it was fun hacking into his bank account, looking into the hotel’s finances and seeing where all of the money was going. A lot of money was going in and out of the hotel since the hotel also had a casino. It was the perfect cover for anything illegal that was going on.

Within an hour, she had Sinclaire’s financial information, the hotel’s blueprints and security detail. Next Rebecca went on to Draxis Sinclaire himself. She saved all off this information onto a flash drive, making sure to encrypt the information just in case. She spent the next two hours piecing together whatever she could on Sinclaire’s life. After she had downloaded and saved the last of information, Rebecca called Twig to let her know what she was doing and where she was going.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” said Twig.

“What choice do I have?” Rebecca replied bitterly. “I’m dead either way.”

“Look after yourself. Try not to get yourself killed. If you want I can put a tracer on your phone just in case anything should happen. At the very least I can keep track of you and call the cops or something.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I need all of the help that I can get.”

Twig hung up abruptly without saying a final good bye in typical Twig fashion. Rebecca powered off her laptop and finished getting ready. She was out the door by five-twenty. She would get to Skold’s apartment in plenty of time.

Minutes later Skold let her in, lips curled into a smile. He wore a medium blue long sleeved shirt with silver buttons and black leather pants.

“Are you sufficiently prepared?” Skold asked her.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think so? Which means that you are not certain. Now is not the time for uncertainty.”

“I’m ready,” she said more certainly.

He nodded. “Good, let us hope so. Did you bring me the information that I asked you for?”

“Yes. Let’s sit down and I’ll show you.”

Once in the living room Rebecca powered up her laptop and opened the file with all of Sinclaire’s information on it. Skold’s eyes barely moved or blinked as he read through the document, his finger clicking the mouse pad every few seconds. Though barely two minutes had passed when Skold pushed the laptop back in her direction and nodded in approval, Rebecca could not help but let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Very good,” he said.

Rebecca gulped. “Just how dangerous do you think he is?”

“Very.”

“Do you think that you’re going to have to…um…you know, kill anyone?”

“I am hoping so,” he said with a sly smirk. “Are you regretting our deal yet, Rebecca Hall? If not I would say that you are very insane.”

Rebecca said nothing, knowing that her expression had betrayed her again; after being in this world for God knew how long, Skold probably didn’t miss much, even without his stronger senses. The possibility of her own doom hovered over like a dark storm cloud. She watched Skold finish prepare for the task ahead, silent. She watched him load weapons that she had no names for, guns that she had never laid eyes upon. She watched him hide knives in places that she never would have thought of (or that anyone else could think of for that matter). Her hangover from earlier that morning was long forgotten.

“Now we go,” said Skold.

Rebecca could not help but listen to the engine of Skold’s Mustang purr or enjoy how comfortable the leather seats were. The car glided smoothly through the gritty streets of Roc City; Skold maneuvered the vehicle with the expertise and finesse of a race car driver.

The silence between them was so thick that one could cut it with a knife. Rebecca was the only one that seemed to notice or care. It was obvious that Skold did not want to make small talk. It seemed that he only spoke when he felt the need to. Rebecca felt a strange mixture of fascination and fear of him, both feeling sharing equal weight, neither one stronger than the other. In one hand it was like being in a car with a celebrity and in the other, a serial killer. Underneath these feelings was another more engrained feeling that was simply a part of Rebecca’s personality: the need to show Skold that just because she was bloody human did not mean that she was less than he, whether he was a killer or not. It was her confidence, her defiance, her feistiness that won out.

“Can you say something?” she said.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Well, I really don’t want to sit here in silence right now. I need something to distract me from my thoughts.”

His eyes did not leave the road; it seemed that he was almost driving on autopilot. “Are you scared?” he asked belittlingly.

“Yes,” Rebecca admitted after a moment of defiant silence. She could have lied and said no but she knew that Skold would know that she was lying the instant she said it. “It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. Everyone is afraid of something.”

“Not me,” said Skold.

“That’s impossible. Not if you have a heart and a soul.”

“I have neither.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to argue, to say something of well-meaning but kept her mouth shut for fear of sounding ignorant. Who was she to argue? She reminded herself of what Skold had told her back at the apartment: He’s not my friend. At any moment he could turn on me, kill me. I need to make sure that I stay on my guard at all times.

Draxis Sinclaire’s hotel was nothing less than magnificent, forty stories of steel and glass that rose towards the sky. The hotel had been built and owned by Sinclaire’s father, Kevin Sinclaire, who had immigrated from Russia in the early 1960’s, not long after John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Already a man with vast knowledge, power, and wealth it had taken very little time for Sinclaire to root himself in America and have a son, who was Russian-American. Naturally his son Draxis continued the business, inheriting everything from his father including meddling in organized crime, and even further expanded Sinclaire’s business, and securing the family name a formidable reputation.

Skold stopped the Mustang underneath the car port. Without bothering to look at the tuxedoed vendor, Skold handed over the keys. Rebecca watched the vendor drive the Mustang out of sight. She couldn’t stop from wondering if the man intended to steal the car. That would be horrible, it was such a beauty. She longed to have one of her own someday. To her relief, the Mustang came back into sight, the vendor parking it in an empty spot. Rebecca followed Skold through the revolving doors, into the hotel.

Rebecca looked around the large high-ceilinged, purple carpeted lobby. Everything was either purple or silver, two colors that went together surprisingly well. A tall thick-necked bouncer stood before the glass double doors that led into the casino. Rebecca wished that she could go in. She had always wanted to go to the casino, to try her hand at gambling. One of the few things that her parents had taught her was how to play poker, starting at the age of five. Rebecca had many pleasant memories of playing poker with some of her classmates in elementary school, much to the dismay of her teachers. I never ran out of milk money, she thought, allowing herself to grin. But gambling was not something that she could afford to try, not with her current financial distress.

Skold approached the desk. The secretary, a young woman in her late twenties, smiled, getting ready to give him the sales pitch; the name tag pinned to the lapel of her blouse said that her name was Mia. Before she could start, Skold said, “I am not looking for a room. I am here to speak with Draxis Sinclaire. I was sent here by Vanessa Holland.”

The woman’s face darkened, perhaps hinting at the darker nature, less legal things that went on in this hotel. “He’s expecting you,” said Mia. She glanced at Rebecca. “Sinclaire was told that it would just be you. Who is she?”

“She’s with me.” That was all of the explanation that Skold was willing to offer apparently.

Mia nodded. “I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

She turned her back to them and wandered over to a phone. She talked into it, glancing in their direction every few seconds. Skold watched her intently. Rebecca felt a cold chill race up her spine. Something’s going on, she thought. And whatever it is, it isn’t good. She may not be a bad ass elf bounty hunter like Skold but she did have common sense, and she knew danger when she saw it.

Mia put the phone back in its cradle and gestured for them to follow her. “Follow me, please.”

She led him over to an elevator. They waited silently until the doors open. Once inside the receptionist pressed the button for the top floor. Rebecca watched her cautiously. Her instincts told her that there was something dangerous about this woman, that she wasn’t your average receptionist.

Skold and Rebecca followed Mia down a long hallway. She stopped at a set of white double doors. The doors swished open and an elf stepped out.

He was the biggest elf that Rebecca had ever seen, certainly the most grizzled and intimidating. He easily rivaled the height and musculature of an orc. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans underneath a leather jacket and black biker boots. Rebecca was fascinated by the gold-and-silver beads entwined with his beard. On very few occasions had Rebecca seen an elf with a beard; most elves considered it to be distasteful to let their beards grow out.

“Skold,” the elf greeted, in a deep rumbling voice.

Recognition and annoyance flashed across Skold’s face. Rebecca was shocked. This was the first time that she had seen Skold express any kind of emotion. But the motion was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, tucked behind a its protective wall of ice within the blink of an eye.

“What are you doing here?” Skold said.

“Perhaps the same thing that you are,” said the elf. “Valuable information.” The elf turned to Rebecca and, surprising her yet again, tipped her a wink. “I’m Dominyc, but you can call me Dom. Be careful, that Sinclaire, he’s a sly one.”

“Uh, thanks,” was all Rebecca could manage to say.

To Skold, Dom said, “I will be waiting for you out in the parking lot.” With that he began to walk away, disappearing into the elevator.

“Who the hell was that?” Rebecca whispered.

“A minor annoyance,” Skold replied.

Mia, who had been waiting patiently and silently through this exchange, knocked on the door lightly. The doors were opened by two burly bouncers. They both stepped out, barring Rebecca and Skold from entering.

“Raise your arms,” said the tallest of the bouncers to Skold. Skold looked ridiculously small standing before him.

“What for?”

“We have to search you both. You are not allowed to bring weapons of cell phones into the room.”

Reluctantly Skold handed all of his weapons over. The bouncer’s eyebrows arched when Skold handed him the uzis and grenades. Rebecca’s heart dropped as she handed over her phone. How would Twig be able to call for help if he couldn’t possibly track her? Once they were searched the bouncers let them in.

Rebecca was greeted by high ceilings, crème-colored walls, white-and-black checkered floor and a glowing fire place. The room was far removed from the industrial, almost futuristic look of the rest of the hotel. This must be Sinclaire’s private suite, Rebecca thought, the place where the real party is at. Two bouncers guarded the room, watching Rebecca and Skold expressionlessly from behind black, sinister sun glasses. A woman and a man lounged on luxurious white leather furniture. They were both giggling at something, a funny joke perhaps. They both held wineglasses, their faces pointed up towards the ceiling.

The man stood up when he saw Skold and Rebecca, his face immediately composing itself. His pale blue eyes were warm and his cheeks was flushed with drink. At forty-five Draxis Sinclaire was still easy on the eyes, no doubt a lady’s man. His pepper-and-salt hair was cut short and sporty, his goatee neatly trimmed. His white sports jacket was immaculately clean, not a stain on it, his black dress shoes polished to a shine. The pictures that Rebecca had seen of him had done Sinclaire no justice. Why do the bad boys always have to look so damned good? she thought.

Like Mia, the receptionist on the first floor, Sinclaire’s company appeared to be somewhere in her twenties. It was apparent that Sinclaire had a thing for younger women. Her black hair was pulled up into a neat bun and she wore a black flawless dress that sparkled along with her crystal earrings. She glanced at Rebecca with suspicious dark eyes, the disgust obvious. Rebecca pretended not to notice.

“Skold,” said Sinclaire, with a slight Russian accent, offering his hand. “What a pleasure.”

When Skold did not shake his hand or make the same sentiment, Sinclaire did not bat an eye. He merely switched his attention to Rebecca. “And who are you my young beauty?”

“Rebecca Hall,” she said, shaking his hand.

He took it gently, his fingers warm and firm. He raised it to his lips and kissed it gallantly, his eyes never leaving hers. To her satisfaction, Rebecca thought she heard his whore scowl. She pretended not to notice the way the bristles of his goatee poked her skin.

“This is my girlfriend, Sonja,” said Sinclaire.

Sonja said nothing, continuing to glower resentfully.

“Would you like some food, drink?” said Sinclaire.

“No.” Skold took his seat across from Sinclaire and Sonja; Rebecca followed suite. “We have business to attend to.”

“Indeed,” said Sinclaire. “Don’t we all?”