Basement Man (A Jack Ryan Mystery Thriller) Read online

  Basement Man

  By

  Jack Ryan

  © 2015 Jack Ryan. All rights reserved.

  Kindle Edition

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  Adults only.

  Not for sensitive readers.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Want a FREE review copy of The Mystery Directive? You know you do! Simply click on the link below

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  Note from the Storyteller

  Dear Reader,

  I'm a storyteller, not an author. I can't write for shit, but that's okay, I've come to live with that fact. If you want a brilliant piece of writing that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, then steer clear from my stuff. But if you want a good story, one that has explosions from the first sentence that is packed with high octane action, then who knows? You might just enjoy this short thriller.

  Jack

  Other Books by Jack Ryan

  The Mystery Caller

  Subway

  The Puppet Master

  The Mystery Directive

  An hour ago I fucked her. It was spectacular. Animalistic.

  Now she pleaded for her life.

  An hour ago she screamed my name in ecstasy.

  Now she sobbed uncontrollably. Just the way I liked it.

  What a difference one hour can make.

  I am sure she bemoaned meeting me. Eventually they all do.

  “This will hurt,” I said and watched the white of her eyes grow. She shook her head. Struggled against the ropes. She screamed. The knife came down fast as she yelped underneath the brown cloth around her mouth.

  One stab was all I needed.

  Slowly her fight started to subdue.

  I watched the life drain from her beautiful body. I became aroused. As always. I will fuck her again. But she must die first.

  Just the way I liked it.

  * * *

  “It is done,” I said and pressed the mobile between my ear and shoulder. My hand tightened my belt. I glanced around and looked at her naked bloodied body. She was stunning. Even now in death. The mistress of Senator Henry Franklin. The very bored mistress of Senator Henry Franklin. Now the very dead one.

  “Good.” The Master paused. He was always calm. “Very Good Randal. Did you make sure it will give the correct message? Will he know this was from his enemies?”

  I went over to the window of the small motel room. It was a clear day outside. “Yes, the Senator will get the message.”

  “If he don’t? If he still wants to pass the bill?”

  I smiled, “Master, then I will pay his family a visit. But this and the phone call will ensure he never passes that bill. He has two sons. Enough pressure points.”

  There was another pause. “Good. Very Good. I will be in touch Randal. Your money is being wired as we speak. In the meantime lay low. If you can?”

  “I will try,” I said and already felt the urge to kill once more. It was a hunger that consumed me. I scanned the room one last time. Double checked everything. Sloppiness will get you caught. The Puppet Master won’t approve that.

  I looked at the woman. My only regret was I could not fuck her once more. Something about the dead and sex. Gets me wild.

  Saddened with the thought I left the room. It was time to go home.

  * * *

  “Is that him? God he is something! Would not mind…”

  “Sshhhh Nance…he is our tenant.”

  I heard the soft whispers as I stepped out of my pickup. The old yellow truck with paint cans, a ladder and tools were my cover. It worked. Especially, if you needed to rent some furnished unit for a few weeks before moving on.

  “Yes, it is Randal our basement apartment tenant.” Megan said and smiled at me and nudged the hand of her friend away.

  “You want something?” I asked and grabbed my toolbox from the pickup. The two girls were quiet. Both were sexy as hell. My type. Eighteen and full of life.

  “My parents and younger sister left this morning for a weekend at the lake,” Meghan said and tucked a streak of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “I know. Saw them pack. And?” I glanced at her friend. She smiled and looked desirable in her white tank top and short jeans. Long golden tanned legs. There was something familiar in her eyes. I could not decide who was prettier.

  “And I am going to throw a party for my friends tonight,” Meghan said and looked shy, holding her hands together.

  I smiled and walked past them, “I presume you do not have the permission to throw this party?”

  “Yes,” Her voice was hopeful.

  “Don’t bother me. I won’t say a word.”

  “You are the best! Thank you so much. We won’t bother you! Promise,” Meghan said.

  I strolled away. Felt their eyes on me. Nothing new. Most woman found me desirable. In my line of work it was a must. Forget the stereotype of a fat killer slurping iced fizzy drinks all day, lurking in some bush or online. They won’t make many kills. To do what I do and do it well – and not get caught - you need a body woman desired and men envied. Period.

  My basement apartment had a separate entrance. Just before I descended a few stairs to the wooden door, I glanced back at the two girls. There were simply something spectacular about a youthful high school senior. Lust for life. Firm in all the right places. Perky. Fun. All the normal things men would find desirable.

  But I was not normal. For me there was one thing more spectacular locked inside their youth.

  They died the best.

  I felt the sweat before the heat of desire ripped through my body. If only I can…

  I shook my head and moved my led feet down the stairs. I needed to get inside and lock the door. I cannot disappoint the master. I cannot slip up. Cannot shit where I ate. Not after what he had done for me. Not after he gave me a chance to make a living from my gift. Killing.

  I had never met him. But he bailed me out of a bad situation.

  He allowed me the freedom to still pick my own targets. But that freedom was never above his orders. The only thing I respected. And the Master ordered me to not harm the Deacon family. Pity. Meghan was hot. Her sixteen year old sister was hot. Their mother was hot. The dad an idiot. I liked killing and fucking hot and killing idiots. In no particular order.

  Of course there was the bonus of the equal hot best friend. I shook my head. Sweat flew from my brow.

  Once inside the open plan basement apartment, I locked the door and took a deep breath. Knocked my head a few times against the wooden door. Then turned away to face the room.

  The apartment was modest in size and furniture. I did not care for both. I took a carton milk from the small freezer and made my way to the double bed. Sat down. Took a few long gulps. Forced my mind away from the girls. It went slowly. But I managed to suppress the urge to lure them downstairs. To work my magic
. And what magic that would be?

  Soon I fell asleep with empty dreams.

  * * *

  I had no idea what the time was. It was not the muffled voices that woke me up. Nor the laughter or boom-boom music. No, it was the soft knock on my door.

  “Fuck.” I said and got up. I waited a moment on the edge of the bed. Hoped whomever decided to bother me would disappear.

  No such luck. Another knock. Another silent curse.

  “Coming!” I shouted and heaved open the door. “Thought I told you I was not to be bothered?”

  She smiled. It was the raven haired friend of Meghan.

  “And?” I asked.

  “Want a drink?” she said and held out a bottle bourbon.

  I did not move, “I think you should get back to the party.”

  “Nope. Don’t like the boys. Boring drunk frat dudes and high school kids. Want to have a drink with a real man. You are a real man Randal?” Her voice dripped with seduction as she wiggled the bottle once more.

  I got the hint. “Last time I looked yes.”

  “Good, then let me in.”

  I moved to the side. She smelled of peaches and jasmine as she strolled past me. Still wearing the tank top and shorts. Barefoot.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Big brown eyes smouldering. “Glasses?”

  “Don’t have any.” I closed the door. Already knew how this one was going to play out. “What is your name?” I liked to know the names of my victims.

  She faced me with a smile and took a gulp from the bottle, “No glasses needed. The bottle will do fine. Nancy.” Her eyes caught sight of my chest. “Interesting tattoo on your chest. What type of bird is it?”

  “A Shrike,” I said.

  “A what?” Nancy asked and took another sip.

  “A Shrike. A bird that kills other birds.” I moved closer. Took the bottle from her hand. Took a drink. By the time the liquid past my throat her hand was on the tattoo.

  “Interesting,” she said and looked up.

  I cocked my neck to the side. “You have no idea.”

  “And the hearts on your arm? All the woman you loved?”

  I pulled her closer. Her firm body pressed against mine. Warmth. Life. “Something like that,” I said and went in for the kiss.

  We fucked like animals. Nancy gave a dramatic performance. Screamed for me to do her hard. I did her hard. Screamed more. Moaned more. Recon it was all fake. All show. I did not care. For me it was heaven as I exploded inside her.

  “God, you are good,” she said and snuggled her head on my chest. “So much better than the boys upstairs. Fancy another round?”

  The second time was better. This time she did not fake anything.

  By the time I turned her beautiful body around and took her from behind, I knew there was something different about her. Don’t get me wrong. I was not falling in love or some bullshit. But she spread some mystical aura. It was in her eyes. Instant recognition. I had seen that look every time I stared into the mirror.

  Breathless we stayed in bed.

  “Are you a killer?” Nancy asked after a while.

  I did not answer.

  “That is why you have the bird on your heart and the hearts on your arm. All your kills?”

  “No. Only those I got paid for. There are many more.” I got up and looked at the hearts. “It need one more.”

  “Me?” There was no fear in her voice. She stretched out on the bed.

  I had no urge to kill her. “No, from earlier today.”

  “Who?”

  “Some woman. A high profile target. A senator’s mistress.”

  “Did you fuck her before you killed her?” Nancy asked her voice void of judgement.

  I nodded, “Yes and after I killed her.”

  My confession had no effect on her. “I always wondered about that.”

  I smiled, “You should try it someday.”

  Nancy nodded, “Teach me?”

  “Teach you what?” I asked and took the bottle bourbon. I moved towards the window. It was high against the wall and allowed me to see a part of the front yard. There were people everywhere. Fun times. Giggles. Girls in bikini-tops. Guys ready for some late night fun.

  The picture of the world I hate.

  “Teach me?” Nancy asked again.

  I hoped ignoring the question will make it go away. “Teach you what?”

  “To do what you do. To kill.”

  “You do not have the stomach to kill,” I said and observed a two young men chatting with Meghan. A third man join. All dressed in college blazers. I figured Meghan was some sort of magnet because soon she was surrounded by college guys. Wolves in blazers.

  Nancy sat up, her voice a pitch higher, “I do. Let me prove it to you.”

  “Pick a target. Kill the target,” I said.

  Nancy paused a moment. “How do I do it? Don’t want to get caught before you can teach me.”

  “Do what you have to do. You are a pretty girl. I am sure you can figure it out.”

  “And after?” Nancy asked.

  “My employer are always on the lookout for new people.” I said.

  “But will you teach me?”

  I said nothing.

  * * *

  Was it the need to leave behind a legacy? Or just some twisted test? Or was it my need to pass down my knowledge?

  I did not know.

  She was a good fuck. And her question saved her life. See, every single woman I had ever fucked - from my first high school romp to the senator’s mistress - never saw another day in their lives.

  If I fucked you, you were as good as dead.

  There was another knock on the door.

  Almost frantic. I immediately thought it was Nancy. Maybe she messed up. Maybe the police was already on her trail.

  “Who is it?” I shouted.

  “Randal it’s me.” There was panic in her voice.

  Surprised I stood up and left the pistol underneath my pillow. Made my way towards the door. Her vanilla scent entered the basements I opened the door.

  “Meghan?” I asked and looked at the stunning young woman. She was that one notch higher in the beauty stakes than Nancy. Maybe two notches. “What is wrong? Who did that to you?”

  Megan looked up. Both eyes swollen purple. Lip busted. And she clung onto her torn top. She stumbled forward. I caught her light frame and carried her towards my bed. Her body shook as I put her down.

  By the blood between her thighs I knew what happened.

  “Who did this?”

  Megan started to cry and shook her head.

  “Who did this?”

  “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  I shook my head, “I won’t. But I need to know who did this.”

  Megan glanced past me. Her eyes full of tears. “The frat boys.”

  The wolves. I stood up and walked over towards the bottle of bourbon. I grabbed it and took a quaff, then marched over to a compact cupboard in the corner. It resembled a small pharmacy. I searched through a few options and found a plastic bottler. I took two small pills out. “Take these,” I said and held the bourbon and pills out towards Meghan.

  “What is it?” she asked, her voice on the brink of cracking.

  “Pills. It will help you relax,” I said. “Will take away the pain. Make you sleep for a while.”

  Megan nodded and took the pills. “Please don’t tell my parents?”

  I waited a few moments. Megan lay back. Her breathing became deeper.

  “Please don’t…”she said.

  “I won’t. But I will take care of this.” Megan did not hear my last words as she fell into a deep sleep.

  I took the gun from under the pillow and secured it behind my back. Soon I was dressed.

  Ready to go to college.

  * * *

  It was dark in the shadow of the large oak tree. The house was still alight. Two of the frat boys sat on the porch. They already boasted.

  “Man she struggled!”<
br />
  I calculated the few yards towards the porch. Sprinted silently forward. Stopped behind a small bush. They did not see me.

  “Yeah the bitch sure put up a fight.”

  That was his last words.

  While his brains painted his bewildered frat brother’s face, his lifeless body limped back into the rocking chair. Before brain face could scream, two slugs opened his chest and then a third blasted through his skull.

  I pulled out a second gun. The one I hid in my truck. I fastened on a silencer. It was time to clean house.

  I opened the door. It shrieked. Felt one recoil in my hand. Then in both hands. The men were mowed down on the stairs they came from. Still no screams. No-one knew I was here.

  The fresh spray of blood numbed my nostrils with sweet delight. My heartbeat normalized as I inhaled and slowly moved towards the kitchen. There was voices. Not for long. A young man died by the fridge. His overweight girlfriend on the table. Again I was fast enough.

  I swept the kitchen and basement and then moved towards a large TV room. Someone slept on the couch. He would never wake again.

  Satisfied that the downstairs rooms were clear, I went outside and dragged the first two bodies inside. Shut the door. Locked it. Then I made sure the kitchen door was locked. As I passed the dead girl a familiar urge came over me. But it had to wait. There was more business to take care of.

  I heard the sound of sex halfway up the stairs. It came from the first door. I moved past it and took care of two sleeping brothers and one half naked girl. The rest of the frat house was empty. Only two more kills.

  No one to warn them.

  I no longer needed the guns. Had never been my style.

  They were still enjoying their naked session. I slowly opened the door. In the semi darkness I saw the girl’s back. A small tattoo just above her buttocks as she rode the lucky bastard like a porn star.

  I hunched down, half covered by the door and took my knife from my ankle holster. I rushed them. The man saw me first. Wide eyed he tried to push the girl away from him.

  Coward.

  But I was too fast. Caught her light frame and pushed her back on top of him. She was struck down with fear. Sat like a salt pillar as my hand tightened around her mouth. I smelled sweat and sex from her curly amber hair. She cringed as the cold blade gently touched her neck.