A Cloak of Lies Ch. 11

"Yeah. She deserves better than the life I gave her. I put her through hell, Brick. I hurt her more than any woman should be forced to survive."

Brick snorted, adjusting a few of the controls, shaking his head as he said, "A man in love is weak."

"You're wrong," Niko replied. "Because of her, I can move heaven and hell, and I'll do just that to get her back."

"Maybe I should get me a woman," Brick mused aloud.

Niko burst into laughter, shaking his head as he looked Brick over.

"You'd have to bathe regularly. Women don't care much for the natural ambiance of a man."

"Just so you know, Pavli," Brick said quietly, "I don't like to wallow in my own stink. It's the only thing that smothers the smell of death. It clings to me. It's a smell that no amount of soap can wash away."

They fell silent again. For the first time since pulling Brick out of that prison camp all those years ago, Niko was getting a clear look at the goliath that sat next to him. There seemed to be something eating away at him. Long minutes ticked by before either of them spoke again.

"I need to get to Illinois," Niko said.

"What? What the hell would you want to do that for?"

"I think I know what Oleander is looking for. If I can get to it, I might be able to use it as leverage."

"That's a fool idea," Brick growled. "You know if you give whatever it is to the son-of-a-bitch, he'll just kill you and your woman anyway."

"Who said I was going to give it to him?" Niko fairly yelled. "I just said I would use it. We have to figure out a way to get me as close to the capital as possible without being seen."

"That's gonna be a hell of a trick," Brick chuckled. "You'll get your ass shot."

"It's a chance I'm going to have to take."

***

Eyes, black as night and bright as the sun, smiled down at her. The heat of his breath danced over her flesh, tickling the fine hairs of her skin. The touch of his hands, the feel of his arms around her, told Camille that everything would be all right.

"I love you,agapi," he said.

The sound of his deep voice caused her heart to do a flip. Niko was home. Niko was alive, warm and real – and he was hers again.

She snuggled deeper in his arms, sighing contentedly. How had she survived in those long, cold years without him?

Niko's laughing eyes vanished in a flash of searing pain. Camille's back arched, her body jolting awake in terror. A sound akin to a gunshot exploded behind her, bringing the gut-wrenching pain again.

A scream tore itself from her throat, a sound she didn't recognize as her own. The pain subsided slowly, allowing her mind to clear, if only momentarily.

"Look at my face, you bitch!" Gerhardt screamed, yanking her head up by a handful of hair. "Look at it."

She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the man in front of her. If she hadn't been lost in her own misery, she might have found satisfaction in the mangled visage that glared at her with such fury.

"He branded me," Gerhardt continued. "Because of you, he branded me. He had that faithful guard dog of his hold me down while he sliced up the side of my face. You like it? 'L' for liar. That's what he called me. He thinks I lied to him about Marissa. I'm going to teach you to open your mouth around me."

Gerhardt inhaled deeply, reaching up to swipe the back of his hand over a stream of blood that oozed from the letter carved into his left cheek. That's when she saw the leather bullwhip he had used to awaken her. She began to struggle, only now realizing that her wrists were still tethered to the ceiling.

She saw his arm draw back, saw the tanned leather snake out as if in slow motion. The sound of it slicing through the air was enough to cause her muscles to tense in dread of the coming blow. The braided strap coiled about her body, licking her flesh with fire, tearing the delicate skin of her breast.

The agony wrenched another anguished scream from her throat, stealing her breath. The next blow wrapped about her thighs before she could inhale again. After that there was only a black void where she no longer felt pain.

Camille would have happily died in that dark place, but Gerhardt had other ideas. The next thing she felt was the icy water with which he doused her. Her pain-wracked body shivered uncontrollably as she tried to focus her eyes on the menacing man in front of her.

"I want you awake for this," he hissed. "I want you to feel everything I give you."

He released the rope from which she was suspended. Camille's legs folded under her, her body collapsing onto the rim of the metal tub and the hard floor beneath. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair when he grabbed her, dragging her to the table. He gripped her aching arms, tossing her over the edge of the table on her belly with her legs dangling to the floor.

"You've had this coming for a long time," said Gerhardt, wrenching her thighs apart. "Let's see how you take a real man."

His fingers forced open her sex, pulling painfully at the skin and hair. She tried to move, to defend herself, but her body wouldn't cooperate. All she could manage was a grunted protest when he tried and failed to impale her with his member.

"I'll make you wet," he said, spitting in his hand.

He smeared the saliva over her labia, forcing his fingers inside. She lashed out weakly with one leg only to have him hit the back of her head in response. Her face collided with the table, nearly rendering her unconscious again.

"Stay with me, bitch," he hissed, pulling her head back so hard that he almost snapped her neck. "I want you to feel this. I want you to know it's me that fucks you."

The door to the torture chamber opened at that moment. Olaf entered to stand in front of her. His face held a strange expression that stopped Gerhardt instantly. Muttering a string of oaths, he stepped away from Camille, walked around the table and left the room.

Camille tried to pull herself upright, horrified when the butler moved around behind her. She felt his hand on her back, holding her in place. Whimpering softly, she awaited this new fate, hoping the end would come soon.

The next sensation she felt was that of cloth being draped over her. The silent man gently turned her, wrapping a blanket around her as he lifted her from the table. When she looked into his face, she saw sadness and something that looked like anger.

He shook his head, carrying her from the room. His expression changed and once again, he was the stoic butler, carrying out his master's bidding.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder, allowing the darkness to once again claim her. Once more, she was in that black void where nothing mattered but the laughing eyes in her dreams.

Camille had no idea how much time had passed, but when she woke, it was to the misery of pain. It burned in her limbs and on her skin, clouding her mind. Something cold and wet was stroking her face while a voice softly crooned. She moaned, trying to move away from the chill, squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness of the room.

"It's okay, Camille," the voice said. "You're safe now."

"Niko," she whispered.

"No, it's Lorette," the voice said.

Camille opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear them. The face that came into view was full of worry.

"Olaf brought you in," Lorette said. "I think he was upset when he laid you down. He was so careful with you and then just stared at you for the longest time. Then he suddenly left. He scares me."

Lorette turned away, walked to the bathroom with a bowl of water in her hands. Camille could hear her dumping the water out, filling the bowl again. When she returned, Lorette dipped the cloth, wringing it to continue bathing Camille's skin.

"No," said Camille, holding up her hand to stop the girl. "Help me get dressed."

"Honey, you can't put clothes on. Your skin is all torn up. It'll hurt too much. What happened?"

"My ex-fiancé worked me over. I'll survive, but before this is over, I'm going to kill that asshole," Camille said, disgusted by the words that came from her own mouth. "Can you believe I just said that? I spent my whole life preaching pacifism and all I want to do right now is see Gerhardt's blood on the carpeting."

"The human spirit can only take so much abuse," said Lorette, shaking her head.

The door opened, admitting the silent butler. In his hands he carried a large box. Camille clutched at the sheet that covered her body, glaring at the man.

"What do you want?" she whispered, casting a glance at the cowering Lorette.

Unable to answer her, he removed several items from the container, setting them on the table beside the bed. He'd brought gauze for bandages, ointments and antiseptic. The last item he took out was a bottle of pills that he handed directly to Camille. The label identified the contents as vicadin.

"Thank you, Olaf," Camille said, shoving the bottle back at him, "but I don't want them. I need a clear head."

He nodded slightly and set the bottle on the table. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he bowed gallantly before leaving the room.

"What a strange man," Lorette said once he was gone. "I think he likes you."

"Maybe," Camille whispered, pulling herself painfully upright, "but I think it's possible that he's not the faithful trained mutt Oleander thinks he is. Could be he's just waiting for the right moment to get back at that sick bastard."

***

The hours ticked slowly by. With each passing moment, Niko felt time running out for his wife. He tried to put thoughts of her out of his head, waiting impatiently in the parked van outside the Illinois State Capital building.

He went over the past twenty-four hours again in his mind. Exhaustion was just one of the enemies that he struggled against. He was glad he'd managed to catch a little sleep in the plane on the way from Nevada to Illinois. Still, his eyes were tired, burning as he focused on the environment outside the van window in the light of street lamps.

After dealing with Lansky, they'd gone from New Mexico to Nevada in near-record time, landing once again on the airstrip where Brick's friend, George Morrow, owned a small air-freight business. Brick had only laughed at the man's expression after telling him they'd be taking the plane again as soon as Morrow could have it fueled up.

George Morrow was an amiable fellow, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He'd produced several maps and charts for the three to use in their effort to locate the mysterious island that Oleander was supposed to own. There was nothing but the wide expanse of Pacific Ocean where the coordinates led. It wasn't until Morrow had pulled out an ancient naval chart from the eighteenth century that they found the tiny speck that would be the island in question.

Armed with this information – and a small arsenal of weapons – the men had left Nevada, landing on a small abandoned airstrip near Pleasant Plains, Illinois just past sunset. From there, they drove a stolen van to the state capital to scope out the activity in and around the building itself.

"How you planning on getting inside?" Brick asked.

"Through the front door," Niko replied, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Hate to rain on your parade there, Pavli, but I don't think they're going to let you just walk in," Brick scoffed, shaking his head. "You ain't got a prayer in hell."

"Got any better ideas?" Niko snapped. "If you do, I'm all ears."

"They have to have a janitorial staff, right?" Olan interjected.

"Yeah," Niko answered, watching the front of the building. "They used to contract out to a local company to come in at night and do the cleaning."

"Do you have any idea what time they come in?"

"Used to be around 10:00 PM, if memory serves. They entered through the west side doors."

"It's quarter to ten now," Brick said, glancing at his watch.

"Okay," Niko said. "Drive us around the block. I wonder if we can get that close or if they even still use that entrance. Looks like they stepped up security since nine-eleven."

Brick moved the van, following the one-way signs around the block until he reached the drive that led to the west side of the capital building. Niko opened the door, sliding out quickly.

"Park it west of here, on Monroe. With any luck, we'll be out of here in thirty minutes," he told his companions.

Slipping into the shadows, he hid behind a dumpster, waiting to see if the cleaning crew still kept the same schedule. Twenty minutes later, a white panel van pulled in the lot. Four people got out, all heading for the side entrance. Niko recognized one of them, an older man that had been doing the same job when Niko had been employed by Senator Hyde all those years ago.

"Jim," he called softly from the darkened corner.

The man broke from the others, heading for the shadowy figure near the dumpster. He approached carefully, his head cocked to the side.

"What is it?" the man said, stopping several feet away.

"You don't recognize your old fishing buddy?" Niko asked, glancing around.

The man stood frozen as Niko walked into the beam of light emitted from the lamp overhead. His eyes grew large, blinking several times in disbelief.

"Niko? Niko Pavli?" the man asked in amazement.

"It's me all right, Jim. How ya been?"

"Can't be. You... You're dead. My old eyes are playing tricks on me."

"It's me, Jim."

"I knew it!" Jim fairly yelled. "I knew you weren't dead. When they didn't find your body, I just knew it."

Niko held up his hands, glancing around.

"Keep it down, will you, Jim?" Niko hissed. "It won't do me any good if anyone finds out I'm here."

"What happened to you, man?" Jim whispered. "They said you got into some trouble, went and got yourself drunk and drove off in the drink."

"It's a long story and I just don't have the time," Niko answered, stepping back into the shadows. "Listen, I'm in trouble and I need your help. We been through a lot together. Can I count on you to keep a secret?"

"Damn it, Niko. You know you can. You were there for me when I almost lost everything. If it wasn't for you, I'd be just another drunk in the gutter. What do you need?"

"Thanks, Jim. You don't know what this means for me. I need to get inside. I have to get something I left in the basement, in the old boiler room. Can you get me down there without anyone seeing me?"

"I can try. Wait a minute. I got Mark's badge in the van. You'll need that to get in. He's out sick this week. You don't look much like him, but if you keep your head down, maybe no one will notice."

Jim ran back to his van, returning a minute later with an id card and a hat. He handed the items to Niko, telling him to pull the hat low over his eyes.

"I don't know if I should tell you this," Jim said when he opened the door to the building, "but something's happened to Camille."

"I know, Jim," Niko said, stepping into the cool interior. "That's why I'm here. Some really bad people have her. I'm trying to get her back."

"Where you been all these years, Niko?" Jim asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "She went through hell after you left. No one could reason with her. She just refused to believe that you'd died."

"Ah, Jim," Niko whispered as they passed one of the guards, "I fell into a mess that I can't tell you about. With any luck at all though, the thing I need downstairs will put an end to it."

"It's Hyde, isn't it?" Jim asked. "I know that son-of-a-bitch is dirty."

"Why do you say that?" Niko asked, glancing sharply at his old friend.

"Hey, you make a living cleaning up after people; you tend to figure things out. What's he into?"

"I can't talk about it, Jim. I really appreciate your...," Niko said, letting his voice trail off when he realized that the guard was following them.

Once he and Jim reached the locked door to the building's underbelly, he kept his head down, waiting for Jim to find the right key. The guard seemed to be hovering, hanging back, sizing him up. Niko felt more than a little uncomfortable under the man's scrutiny, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally moved away.

The door was open at last, allowing the two men to walk down the ancient steps to the dank confines below. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the dim glow of the old lamps that lined the walls and ceiling.

"Where is it?" Jim asked.

"There's an old cabinet in the south end. There used to be, anyways," Niko answered, looking around.

"That old blue closet? It's still there. I keep the winter stuff in there. I don't remember seeing anything in there that don't belong, though."

"That's because it's behind the cabinet," Niko said, leading the way through passages that were once familiar. "There's a loose block in the wall. I just hope I can get it and get out of here before that guard decides to start asking questions."

"Yeah, he's a spooky one, that one is," Jim said. "Used to work for the FBI. The guy thinks everything is a conspiracy. I think you know him."

Niko stopped short of his objective, whirling around to face Jim. Alarm bells went off in his head as he struggled to keep himself calm.

"Not Bob Phelps," he said.

"Yeah, that's him," Jim replied. "He came to work here six or seven years ago. You ask me, the guy's got his own agenda, always poking his nose in everyone's business. He watches everything that happens here."

"Christ. I never even looked at the guy," Niko said, grabbing the side of the large cabinet. "I just kept my head down like an idiot and walked by. I need to get out of here before he catches me."

Jim stepped up to help, infected with Niko's urgency. The two pulled the large cupboard away from the wall enough for Niko to get behind it.

"I thought you two were friends. Don't you trust the guy?" Jim asked.

"He's part of the reason I'm in this mess," Niko replied, scraping his knuckles while prying out the one loose brick. "The fucker set me up."

"You're wrong, Niko," a voice said from several feet away. "I didn't set you up, but I know who did."

Niko let out a string of oaths. He had just put his hands on the slim metal box that had caused so much trouble when he heard the all-too-familiar voice of Bob Phelps. Drawing his weapon, he stepped from behind the cabinet to face the man he had once called friend.

"Nothos!" Niko hissed, pointing the gun at Bob's face while clutching the box in his other hand. "I swore I'd kill you if I ever laid eyes on you again."

Jim took a few steps back, shrinking against the damp wall of the corner. Niko ignored him, concentrating his hatred on the uniformed man in front of him. It took all his willpower to keep from pulling the trigger.

"You haven't changed much," Bob said. "I always knew you were alive."

"Yeah, you son-of-a-bitch, you failed. Next time you drop a dime on someone, make sure he's dead."

"You want to shoot me?" Bob laughed, raising his hands in front of him. "Go ahead. Put me out of my misery. Go on."

"Pull that hog leg," said Niko, his voice soft and menacing. "See how fast I kill you."

"Before you shoot, you should know a thing or two."

"You got nothing I wanna hear."

"Niko," Bob said, lowering his hands, "you were my brother. I didn't do what you think. I knew you'd believe I set you up. When I got there and found a spent shell casing at the boat dock, I knew what happened. I just couldn't prove it. Then they hauled your vehicle out and there was no body. I had no idea what happened to you, but I knew you were alive."

"Don't hand me your bullshit. You set the dogs on me. You were the only one I called and you hung me out to dry."

"No," Bob insisted. "Why? Why would I do that? You were the only real friend I had. Damn it, Niko."

Bob ran a hand through his hair, turning to slump onto a crate.