Master of Plagues, D. B. Reynolds [best books to read fiction .txt] 📗

so respected.
Never in his life had he felt in complete control.
Stuart gripped the feet of his newly-appointed general. “General Rahmaanteen, you are to appoint your soliders into positions of lieutenants, colonels, lieutenant colonels, captains, sergeant majors and sergeants. You, of course, are in charge as general.”
“Master, I will serve you as a great general.”
Just like the U.S. Armed Forces, Stuart felt the need to break his army of rats down into troops assigned with different ranks.
“Throughout New York City, you will be assigned certain duties, ones which will entail bringing more peace and unity to this city. Am I understood?”
Every single rat endorsed his words by bowing and nodding their heads.
“Though you’ve come from different boroughs throughout the city, if you are summoned to come into another borough or surrounding areas, like New Jersey and Connecticut, you will absolutely do so. Am I understood?”
Again, the rats nodded in sole accordance.
“Please hear me on this one, my newly-recruited warriors,” Stuart entailed with great emphasis. “For years and years, you’ve been considered a severe plague to this city. You’ve been looked down as nothing but disease-carrying misfit creatures who destroys millions of dollars in property throughout the city. But, I’m here to let you know, that if you have to show up in droves, and if the people of New York look down on you as plagues, then so be it. If we have to plague this city into learning to live with one another, learning to stop committing crimes and hatred towards one another, then so be it. Am I understood?”
“Yes, master.”
The multitude of rats nodded once again.
They moved in closer to Stuart.
“We’ve seen enough madness going on in this city,” Stuart proceeded, speaking facts from the heart. “We’re here to try and stop the murders, the drugs, the rapes, the burglaries, the robberies, the gangs, and all other types of sickness in this city.”
“Master, we are with you all the way to the end,” General Rahmaanteen conceded, a special glow coming from his curved incisors.
“But there is one person in this city that must feel the sting of a true plague. This person must be taught a real good lesson. Yes, General Rahmaanteen, your services will be needed to show this man that he’s not immune from feeling the itch of a plague from a true master like myself.”
“Master, when you require our services, we will be there.”
“Good,” Stuart approved, taking a sharp breath. “Now, I must return to the surface of the Earth. General, I will be summoning you some time in the future.”
Stuart closed his eyes and rubbed the middle of the magical talisman. Within a flash, he’d been returned to the platform level of the subway station. People waiting for their train were quite surprised to see him appear from out of nowhere. How clever of Stuart. He had lots of planning to do since he’d been anointed with special powers over Earthly animals and elements.


CHAPTER—11

JUVENILE IN JEOPARDY

Patience became the one virtue Stuart instituted faithfully into his own life. Five years passed before he decided to make a move on either of the egomaniacal eight. Let the smoke clear. Let things settle. Let the pranksters forget about what they’d done to him that one formidable night at the sleazy motel in the Bronx. Those were his exact sentiments. In the meantime, Stuart decided to open up several businesses which catered to the care and purchasing of animals.
Having wealth provided by the Duffelmeyer real estate fortune, along with a degree in veterinary medicine, Stuart knew it’d be a shame to let the money and education go to waste. The Greenwich Village Veterinary Clinic, The Chelsea Animal Hospital, and Manhattan Animal Specialists, were some he owned and operated. It took a while, but he found employees faithful and honest enough to run his businesses, the ones who kept their hands out of the cash register.
For the past two weeks he rented a room at The Gershwin Hotel there on East 27th Street in Manhattan. The price of a $150.00 dollars a night was no match for his deep pockets. To begin his day, Stuart showered with a green apple gel with steaming hot water pounding onto his slender body. Emerging from the smoky bathroom, he threw the thirsty white towel around his waist while drying off with another one. A larger-than-life portrait of Richard Bernstein hanging above the bed stared at him as though they’d been friends for life.
The Gershwin Hotel decorated its rooms with Andy Warhol and Picasso paintings from one spectrum of the building to the next. Stuart got dressed and walked down the four flight of stairs. Guests of the hotel occupied the lounges which catered to the eclectic taste of all backgrounds. Portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, James Dean and Humphrey Bogart hung with pride across a long stretch of wall.
“There’s my guy,” Stuart spoke softly under his voice. “Sinatra’s the man, baby. Always have been, and always will be. Yes, Mr. Sinatra, the best revenge is success.”
One of the desk clerks looked over at him with suspicion. “Mr. Duffelmeyer, is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Don’t worry, I’m constantly talking to myself.”
“Don’t we all.”
Stuart walked out on 27th Street. A long row of yellow cabs lined the semi-wide street cluttered with bags and bags of old trash. The Flatiron District of Manhattan was busier than ever. The sun had faded more into the late afternoon hours. Manhattanites crammed every inch of sidewalk space. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of beige paper. The address to one of his father’s business associates was scribbled on it. The residence he needed to find happened to be closeby on East 29th Street. Like other upscale streets, it represented big money.
Stuart found himself going in circles around Midtown Manhattan. New Yorkers like himself were prone to getting lost around the occluded borough. He passed the Fifth Avenue shopping district and beautiful Madison Square Park and still hadn’t found the address. He took a stroll past Macy’s, Penn Station, the Chelsea Art Galleries, and on past The Empire State Building. Not finding the right address brought on a slight headache. He ended up on 29th Street and closely scanned the addresses to the buildings.
There it stood. A beautiful piece of architecture. Stuart glanced to and from the paper to the apartments. The address to the building matched the one on the paper. The Marquis Belvedere at 30 East 29th Street screamed out wealth from the architectural cosmetics. But wealth weren’t the only screams coming from inside the exclusive Manhattan high rise. Screams of potential injustice would soon take place. On the tenth floor of The Marquis, inside apartment 1022, a sinister plot would be hatched. A wild party was financed by one of Wall Street’s most cunning investment bankers.
Sixty-Four year old Kent Sturgis provided dope and booze to five of his lowlife friends who used their wealth and influence for evil purposes. Kent maintained a lean figure from using the property’s fitness center. He kept his thinning white hair trimmed close while he dressed immaculately in Saks Fifth Avenue threads. Botox treatments here and there kept his skin from looking like an old white prune. As a group of six dirty old men, their sick, perverted fetish was for young girls. Teenagers or young and old women were out of the question.
Girls at least twelve or younger were suited more towards their taste. A delicate knock sounded at the door of apartment 1022. Kent peeped into the hole and opened the door with a devious smile on his face. Walking through the door was sixteen year old Aleksandra Morozov and her ten year old younger sister, Aleksis Morozov. Both were Russian girls who’d recently immigrated to the United States from the poorest section of Russia with their parents. Too bad neither of their parents knew what was about to take place. Aleksandra had a slender face accented by her long feathery brunette hair. Aleksis sported more of a round face set off by her strawberry blonde hair. Both girls had developing, eye-catching bodies. Kent invited them in and introduced them to his five immoral friends. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged among the group.
Kent called Aleksandra to the side. The pair ventured into the kitchen to do business. “Wasn’t your price a thousand dollars?”
“A thousand dollars, it was, sir,” Aleksandra answered in strongly broken English.
“And that includes everything?”
“Yes, everything, sir.”
“Can my friends and I have her anyway we want her?”
“Anyway you want her, sir.”
Kent penetrated her estranged eyes. “Now, if the police comes asking, what’re you going to tell them?”
“That……uh…….some drunk homeless men raped and beat her.”
“Good, sweetheart, very good.”
In the front room of the elaborate apartment, all five of Kent’s friends guzzled liquor down their throats and vacuumed cocaine up their noses. Only sickos like them would have to be doped up and boozed up to do what they’d planned to do to ten year old Aleksis. How shameful to be sold as a sex slave by her older sister. From where they’d come from, only the fittest survived. Doing things beyond sinful was a way of life. The perverted men fondled the innocent
little girl. Kent handed over ten crispy one-hundred dollar bills to Aleksandra. Never had she even touched such a large amount of cash.
Stuart walked up to the front entrance of The Marquis Belvedere. He stopped when he came before the six-foot-six frame of the doorman. The doorman’s services could’ve been used more towards being a bodyguard for Hollywood celebrities.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the barritoned voice of the doorman.
“I’m here to see Sebastain Plettenberg,” Stuart announced, partially intimidated by his huge frame.
“Is Mr. Plettenberg expecting you?”
“Yes, he is.”
“And you are?”
“Stuart Duffelmeyer from Duffelmeyer Realtors and Associates. Mr. Plettenberg is an associate of my father’s real estate firm.”
Stuart was granted access to the front lobby. A clerk from behind a desk phoned upstairs to verify his identity. He was cleared and got on the elevator. A push of the number ten button and he began his journey upstairs. Stepping off the elevator, he heard the cries of