Chapter 11 Zahra
ZAHRA
Apiercing screech rings through my head as soon as I place the earpiece in my ear.
“Dammit, Azula. If I don’t die on this mission, my ears may bleed to death if you keep messing around with the microphone.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Plus, I told you we should practice before I used this. Just because you’re tech savvy doesn’t mean I am,” she sasses.
“I did offer to practice. You were the one who insisted you were fine,” I grit through my teeth, adjusting the collar of my trench coat and the scarf around my neck to ensure a majority of my face is covered.
“Mmmm, that’s not how I remember it, but we’ll agree to disagree. Now let me get a better view of where you’re at.” Leaning against a cold red brick wall, waiting for her confirmation, I hear Azula typing away furiously.
My meeting with Declan in the garden had proven incredibly fruitful, though at times I found myself unwittingly getting lost in his…
aura. I try not to beat myself up about that irritating fact too much.
Declan is clearly a mastermind when it comes to deception and manipulation.
Using stories about my father, feigning interest in my childhood, playing the role of a mourning son — he truly deserves an Academy Award for the facade he’s keeping up.
Annoyingly, I had to admit that Declan made for good conversations.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so…
light. The last time I was able to talk about the happier moments of my life without having to deal with looks or words of pity.
With Declan, or at least with the fake-nice Declan, I felt a sense of security and understanding I hadn’t felt before.
Because under the right circumstances, in a world where he didn’t murder my father in cold blood, I could actually see us being friends.
Which only manages to irritate me even more.
It’s hard to find people who understand you in this line of work.
Even harder to find someone you can trust. And Declan could have been both of those things if he weren’t a massive liar.
The only positive of this situation is gaining sound evidence that confirms all of my suspicions about his deceit, thanks to my bug that worked without a hitch.
Immediately after our encounter in the garden, I went straight to work.
Combing through years of GPS data was going to take time, so I started with the day that changed my life forever.
Declan had sworn he was in Maine when our fathers were shot, but his cell phone placed him right at the scene of the crime.
I nearly threw up when I unraveled the truth.
Despite my suspicions, I suppose a part of me hoped I was wrong. A part of me that wants to believe there’s no way Declan could have taken my father’s life, taken his own father’s life, and continued on like it was nothing.
Once I exposed that truth, I kept digging.
Most of his movements following the murder showed no clear patterns, except for one building he kept visiting.
Last week, I had followed him all the way to the site, but was unable to find a secure way to get inside without tipping him off.
So, I consulted with Azula, and we decided the best method of action would be to secure the block and nearby streets, and try to speak to the shop owner one on one.
From tracking the shop’s patterns, they rarely received any visitors prior to ten am, so I made sure to get there right at nine am.
“Do you need me to help you?” I check in with Azula, tapping my foot impatiently. Though I appreciate her diligence, time is definitely of the essence here.
She clicks her tongue in annoyance. “I got it. You’re a block across from Dedham and Tremont. Based on our surveillance cameras and the thermal readers we installed outside, only the shop owner should be inside.”
“Perfect. And Declan’s still occupied?” I confirm. Based on his calendar, he’s supposed to have a phone call with his uncle today.
“Yup. His uncle has been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes. Something about Declan not treating him like his second, and how he’ll start waving his dick around to claim his dominance if that doesn’t happen,” Azula grunts.
“Charming.”
“That’s certainly a word for it. Regardless, he shouldn’t be a problem currently so you’re good to go.”
I take off immediately, giving a quick glance to my surroundings before crossing the street and opening the large wooden door to the unsuspecting brownstone building.
From the surveillance I’ve gathered, this business, like many in the city, has a front-facing facade.
In this instance, I entered an apothecary.
The scent of a variety of herbs, supplements, and essential oils hits my nose immediately.
Contrary to my expectations, this place has an incredibly cozy atmosphere.
To the untrained eye, I could easily see a family shopping here for special oddities, teas, and seasonal candles.
But I know better. Given the vast range of natural and synthesized supplements stocked on the shelves, one could easily assume that combining certain chemicals could lead to killing someone just as easily as it could heal another.
“Let me know if I can help you with anything.” The old man standing behind the counter shoots me a soft smile that reminds me of my dad. Especially the way both of their eyes would crinkle along with their lips. My hands start to shake slightly as my heart picks up, beating erratically.
Breathe, Zahra, breathe. Remember why you’re here. Remember who you’re fighting for.
I take a moment to ground myself, noticing the multicolored vials on the cabinets, the extensive array of lavender soaps, and the locally sourced spices.
When I feel my composure return, I approach the man. “There is something you can help me with. A colleague at Savenor's Butchery said you could help me.”
Pausing, I send out a silent prayer that the code phrase is correct.
Azula and I had tried our best to do our due diligence, but the audio we collected from an outside camera was gargled and difficult to clean, even when running it through our best technology.
If my suspicions are correct this building likely contains devices that hinder any planted bugs or recorders from catching full conversations.
The old man’s shoulders stiffen, and I swear he grows an extra six inches in the process. “Lock the entry door. Let’s make this quick.”
I follow his instructions, turning over the ‘We’re Open’ sign to say ‘Sorry We’re Closed’ and heading closer to the counter.
“So, what is it? Found your lover cheating on you and now you’re hoping to keep him on the toilet for the next few days, maybe a week?
Or maybe it's the mistress you want payback on? I can give you a tasteless concoction to pour in her drink. All her hair will shed off by next Tuesday.” His nonchalant attitude sends a chill down my spine.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given he did make a living off this, and I know better than most how exposure to cruelty certainly numbs you over time.
Still, I doubt giving someone the runs or making them bald was something Declan would waste his time with. He has his own means of administering humiliation and torture, which means he must have come here for something more. Something bigger.
It all clicks into place. “What if I’m looking for something more permanent?”
The once soft smile on the man’s face turns leery. “Ah, is there a relative who overstayed their welcome on this planet? Perhaps one that has named you in a large share of their will?”
I school my expression, refusing to give anything away, including my repulsion at his assumption, and the fact that he likely has had several customers come to him for that reason. “Are my intentions necessary for your response?”
“No, but they do make for good small talk, don’t you think?” He laughs to himself.
“I’ll take your deflection as a response that this is a service you offer? Or should I take my business elsewhere?” I threaten, my patience wearing thin.
The old man slams his jaw shut. Clearly, I’ve struck a nerve. “How fast do you want it to be? And how much pain do you want them to experience?”
It becomes hard to swallow as my throat dries. “I’m not sure. What options do you have?”
He taps a finger on his grey bushy beard before unlocking various cabinets and removing a series of vials.
Laying them all out on the counter, he points to one on the far left.
“All of these poisons range in terms of duration, how long they take to kill, and suffering, how much pain they cause. If you’re looking for a quick and relatively painless…
I’d recommend this one. It’s tasteless and relatively odorless when mixed into a drink. ”
I reach for the tube and bring it up to the light, assessing it as if I have plans to purchase it. “What’s it made of?” It’s a direct question I doubt he’ll actually answer, so I correct myself, “Or rather, how does it…handle the problem?”
“Clever girl, you know I can’t give away all my secrets. If I did, I’d be out of business. It’s a concoction of different elements, one of which is tetrodotoxin. Enough to kill within a few minutes if not faster, but not so much that it would tip off any toxicology reports.”
Tetrodotoxin. The same chemical that was found in the poison I nearly drank. The same poison that killed the waiter, fairly quick and, while I would beg to differ, one could say relatively painless. “Is tetrodotoxin found in all of your poisons?”
He shakes his head. “No. Only this one. Each batch I make has its own special formula.”
“And which one of these is your best seller?”
“The one right in your hand. It takes me a while to create, which makes it an even hotter commodity.”
“Any recent buyers?” I decide to cut to the chase.
“Now you know an answer to a question like that will cost you. But from your get-up and line of questioning, I can assume you work for the Persian Empire. It was their new boss who was nearly killed recently. Yes?”
My entire body stiffens as he identifies me. So much for trying to keep a low profile. At least he didn’t know who I really was.
He flashes his teeth. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I’d much rather we work together than have you as my enemy.”
“State your terms,” I grumble, irritated that I had somehow fallen into this man’s trap.
“A piece of information for the same. A few of my regulars are seeking services elsewhere, but I haven’t been able to figure out where. I suspect I wasn’t the first herbalist you sought out.”
“I’m happy to be of service. Though I must insist you go first.” I stand firm.
A glimmer of respect flashes in his eyes. “Very well, my last purchase of the tetrodoxin came from a gentleman a few weeks ago. He was equally tight-lipped as to why he needed such a concoction.”
My racing heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest. “A gentleman? What did he look like?”
“Now, now, my dear. You know I can’t tell you that. Even revealing that it was a man in the first place could get me killed. I’ll blame the slip-up on being distracted by your beautiful face.” He licks his lips, taking me in. Great, now my stomach is also turning.
“I recommend you check Salem. It’s easy to hide in plain sight.” I huff, completing my end of the bargain. The man strokes his beard, contemplating, as I reach into my purse, I pull out a wad of cash and drop it on the counter. “I’ll take the vial. And your discretion.”
“At this price, you can have the whole building if you want it.” He gives me a wink as he runs his fingers through the money, and I tuck the vial away into my pocket and head toward the exit. My hand is on the doorknob when the old man sends me his final parting words,
“A word of caution, my dear? Better to believe your own truth than that of others. It makes the killing all the easier.”