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

/> Karen soon noticed the boil-like welts over his body. “Where’d you get all those red marks along your chest and arms?”
“The big rat whipped me with it’s tail.”
“Sir, you might need a serious psychiatric evaluation. You’ve got me believing that you’ve blown a fuse.”
Another plain clothes detective from the Special Victims Unit signaled for Karen to come into the front room. There, Aleksandra and Aleksis sat on the ripped up sofa hugged up with one another. Karen was briefed and introduced to the two sisters. She studied them and could tell there’d been something malicious going on.
“Hello young ladies,” Karen said as her way of warming up to them. “I’m detective Karen Catalina with the NYPD’s Special Victims Unit. I want you to explain to me exactly what happened inside this apartment.”
Aleksandra volunteered to be the spokesperson. “Mr. Sturgis approached my little sister and I and told us that he’d pay us a lot of money if he and his friends could have sex with her.”
“Who’s Mr. Sturgis?”
“The man you were talking to in the bedroom.”
“You mean the pervert I was just talking to in the bedroom. Okay, where did you and your little sister first meet Mr. Sturgis?”
“Down by Times Square. We were just out walking, and then he drove up in a real nice car.”
“He propositioned you all by wanting to have sex with your little sister?”
“Yes, he did.”
“How old is your little sister?”
“Ten.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“How much did he offer to have sex with your little sister?”
“A thousand dollars.”
Karen exhaled a wind of disappointment. Her eyes shifted to a mode of sadness. “And did you accept his offer?”
“Yes, yes I did,” Aleksandra admitted, breaking out into exceptional tears.
“So, you agreed to pimp out your sister?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you arrive here at his apartment?”
“We caught the subway train.”
“Aleksandra, why would you want to sell your sister out to a buncha sickos?” Karen asked in the most straightforward tone.
Aleksandra wiped tears away from her flushed cheeks. “My little sister and I immigrated here to the U.S. with our parents. We left Russia with nothing and we still have nothing. We are so poor until we can barely heat our home and keep food on the table.”
“Don’t you know about social programs that can help you and your family. These programs here in New York can help you find jobs, pay your rent, buy food and clothes, and have access to transportation around the city. Darling, you don’t have to stoop down so low to survive.”
“I wish we would’ve know that when we came to America.”
“Now, tell me how those men were beaten and tied up.”
Aleksandra aggressively shook her head. “An army of monstrous rats that glowed came in here and took over. These rats beat them bad and tied them up until you guys got here.”
“Kent Sturgis told me that these rats could speak good English. Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true. They were real big with muscles everywhere.”
“I want to believe you guys, but it’s just not true. Rats don’t talk, nor do they have big muscles bulging everywhere.”
“You have to believe me,” Aleksandra insisted, embracing Karen over the shoulders. “There was a bright glow around these rats, like they had some type of special powers from another planet.”
“Don’t tell me that you were doing cocaine, too.”
“No, no, I don’t do drugs.”
All the time Karen and Aleksandra discussed the goings on in apartment 1022, Stuart stood anonymously outside the door, listening to every word of their conversation. How pleasant it was to know that he’d used the powers granted to him to stop the potentially violent rape of a juvenile girl. Working through General Rahmaanteen and the soldiers paid off in the biggest way.
Kent Sturgis and his five culprits were handcuffed and read their Miranda rights. Police laboratory personnel from the Forensic Investigation Division had gone around the apartment with rape kits and latent fingerprint kits to collect possible evidence. Before uniformed officers took Kent Sturgis away for booking, Karen stopped him at the door.
“You’re one sick puppy, Kent Sturgis,” Karen said confrontationally. “Though you and your scumbag buddies didn’t follow through with raping her, Aleksis will suffer mental and emotional damage for the rest of her life. It upsets my stomach to know that lowlifes like you exist in our society. But, I do see something good coming out of this.”
“What would that be?” Kent asked, smiling quite perversely.
“When you go to jail, you’re going to see what it’s like to get raped.”
“Oh, how nice of you, detective.”
“I have two daughters around her age. I hope and pray that they’ll never run across creeps like you. Now, get this disgusting puke away from me and book him.”
Kent and his buddies were escorted out of apartment 1022. Stuart waited by the elevators after having slid the envelope under the doorway of Sebastian Plettenberg.
“Hell hasn’t even begun to warm up for you!” Stuart growled out at Kent.
Kent lashed back at Stuart by saying, “Mind your own business!”
Using powers granted by easy access of the Universe, Stuart quickly transformed himself into General Rahmaanteen. Only Kent recognized that he’d been turned into a huge rat in a general’s uniform. He had to play mind games with him before they got him downtown.
“There’s that big rat again!” Kent yelled in the highest octave, jerking and twisting away from the arresting officers.
One of the NYPD officers escorting him to the elevator said, “Once we book him down at the precinct, we should get one of the psychiatric doctors to inject him with a sedative.”
A white SUV truck from the NYPD with blue stripes waited out on the street in front of The Marquis Belvedere. Parked behind the truck were three squad cars. Kent was placed in the first squad car while his underlings were placed in the last two. Too bad they didn’t live by the three words beginning in red letters and continuing in blue letters marked on the side of the SUV. Courtesy. Professionalism. Respect. They were the words that would’ve kept Kent and his buddies from attempting a horrendous crime.


CHAPTER—13

POWER IN THE TOWER

Not a soul in New York City knew Stuart possessed magical powers. Not a soul in the United States knew he’d been granted special powers over animals and nature. Not a single living soul in the world knew he could speak to the creatures and elements of the Earth and they’d obey him on command. Only the powers of the Universe knew he’d been anointed by The One Most High to engage in such majestical dominion.
Stories about Kent Sturgis conversing with and being subdued by man-sized rats somehow found its way into an editorial column in the New York Times. Surprisingly, people in New York City and around the country took a slight interest. This tickled the most sensitive funnybone of Stuart. Only he knew the goings on behind the scenes. Psychiatrists went into the prison to evaluate Kent. They somehow wanted to see if he’d become certifiably insane.
Stuart tested his first execution of power and was quite proud of it. He now wanted to move on. Five years and some long change had passed since the egomaniacal eight had wronged him. His constitution remained, “From pulling a prank on me, to being plagued by me.”
Yes, he wanted to turn the tables. There had to be some retribution for what they’d done to him. The first name pulled from his list was Anthony Greenstein. The manipulative and pompous socialite had forgotten about the trail of pain he’d left behind after masterminding the prank on Stuart. After receiving his master’s degree in business administration, with a minor in marketing from NYU, he’d gone on to do very well for himself.
The mass Greenstein fortune was created long before Anthony decided to form his mega-powerhouse marketing and advertising firm called A.G.E. The letters A.G.E. were the acronym for: “Anthony Greenstein Enterprises”. His firm occupied every single floor of the Greenstein Towers there in Midtown Manhattan.
The pristine piece of property had been constructed at the sole consent of Anthony’s father, the powerhouse banker and broker, Aldolphus Greenstein. Serious millions continued to swell the coffers of the Greenstein fortune. Scratching on the edges of those big millions were possible billions. Aldolphus’ philosophy remained that no man could ever have too much, as long as others didn’t have as much or more than himself. The shiny silver letters A.G.E. sat high near the top of the sixty-story office building.
A long stretched black limousine pulled up in front of A.G.E. Towers. A light wind from the north end of the Atlantic blew as the chauffer opened the door for Stuart. The skies were partly sunny with a mild late Spring temperature of 73 degrees. Stuart emerged from limousine and the winds blew his pants legs back and forth. The sidewalks grew to its usual shoulder-to-shoulder congestion.
“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Greenstein,” said the chauffer, giving his boss a million-dollar smile.
Anthony returned no reply. Even the man who transported him back and forth to work was beneath him. He rolled his eyes back at the chauffer like a distressed old woman.
The doorman opened the front doors to Greenstein Towers and said, “Good morning, Mr. Greenstein.”
Like the chauffer, Anthony offered no reply. The elevator operator saw him coming and knew what to expect.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Greenstein,” the elevator operator politely spoke, holding the phoniest smile on his face.
A top security personnel from behind a desk looked over at Anthony and said, “Mr. Greenstein, good morning to you. Have a very blessed day, Mr. Greenstein.”
Anthony swung his head up in the air and blatantly ignored his chief of security.