Judgement and Wrath Read Online Free

world famous Miami Beach could be found. The Mildred and Claude Pepper Fountain was just visible through the trees, and to his left he could make out the Miami Queen at its permanent berth, allegedly Miami’s most unforgettable attraction. Dodge Island was a low-slung beast hunkering in the water. Pale against the turquoise sea, it was like a great white whale aground in the shallow bay. Industrial units and storage containers made up the barnacles on this creature’s back.
    He wasn’t there to appreciate the sights, not a tourist. But that was how he would appear to anyone walking by. His pale skin was at risk from the sun, so he’d be forgiven the wide-brimmed hat and dark glasses. His billowing white coat, like the cassock of a medieval monk, was a little strange when taken at face value, but not compared to the garb of some visitors.
    Behind his sunglasses his pale blue eyes were watchful. The stark light pained him, but it was necessary that he be vigilant. Sometimes certain people wished he was dead, too.
    Three men were walking towards him from the mall area next to La Marina de Miami. One, dark-haired and perma-tanned in a cream linen suit, headed directly towards Dantalion. The other two, men with guns concealed under their jackets, stood kicking their heels as though admiring the bronze statue commemorating Christopher Columbus. But their eyes never left the man on the bench.
    Scanning right, Dantalion saw a further two men on the parking lot of the Bayside Park amphitheatre. Not interested in the band stand, they too were watching him. There could be yet more, but it was enough to be getting on with. Discreetly Dantalion slipped a hand beneath the tail of his voluminous coat, as though scratching an itch on his thigh. He unsnapped the holster holding his 90-two Beretta semi-automatic. It had the capacity to fire off seventeen 9 mm rounds as rapidly as he could caress the trigger. Enough for the five men and then some.
    The tanned man sat down on the bench next to him. There was no preamble. No checking of identities; each man knew who he was there to see.
    ‘I’ll take care of your instructions personally. The information you need is already where you asked,’ said the client. He brushed a speck of lint off his suit. ‘In return I need something from you.’
    ‘I know what you want from me.’ Dantalion’s voice came out in a whisper. It wasn’t practised, merely an effect of his feeble genes. His words were lilting; not effete, but androgynous, as though spoken by a pre-pubescent child. There was no trace of his Cajun heritage in its inflection. ‘Confirmation of death. One target has been eliminated. The others will soon follow.’
    ‘Sooner rather than later would be appreciated.’
    ‘You have a choice,’ Dantalion pointed out. ‘If you simply wish these people dead, you could send your dogs around—’ he nodded at the two nearest the amphitheatre, just to let his client know that he was aware of them – ‘or you can be patient and allow me to do what I do best. ‘
    ‘The killings can’t be traced back to me,’ said the man.
    ‘So you choose me?’ Dantalion nodded slowly. He placed a hand on the man’s wrist. He saw the cringe worm its way up the man’s arm and into his face. Dantalion smiled faintly and slowly drew back his fingers. His touch caused that reaction in most; they were repulsed by the scaly look of his skin, the thick yellowing nails.
    ‘You know my terms?’ Dantalion asked.
    ‘You will be paid half the sum up front. The remainder on confirmation that the targets are dead. You are trusted to do the job … I have no problem with that.’
    Dantalion’s chuckle was like the whisper of bats’ wings through the night. ‘Those are not the terms I’m referring to.’
    A pale flush crept over the man’s features. He looked across at the two men keeping Columbus company. ‘Along with the targets you have the right to choose how many others die. Yes, I understand.