from musicians, authors, television and radio networks. Almost all of
them asked for more information. The only negative ones suggested that she
contact them later to see if they’d had an opening.
Jake pounded his fist against the table. Someone had
intercepted these e-mails and kept them from her.
Bastard. Dagger kept his people like serfs. He made them
dependent on him for the drugs they were hooked on. Then, if one of them
managed to get off the drugs as Lauren had, he convinced them the rest of the
world didn’t want them. Who knew how many of his staff could live happy and
productive lives somewhere else? Lauren would, starting today. Then, when she’d
gotten away from him and had a chance to clear her mind, the two of them would
figure out what to do about the others. Dagger would not get away with
this forever.
He clicked through a few more e-mails. As the talent agency
got more and more frantic to talk to Lauren, they mentioned letters they’d sent
through the regular mail. She’d had paper correspondence she’d never seen.
He swiveled away from the computer and looked around for a
place Dagger’s people might have hidden those letters. His gaze fell on a side
room. Little more than a huge closet, it had no windows, but it did have file
cabinets in it. The storage room. If they’d saved Lauren’s letters, he might
find them in there.
He walked in and switched on the overhead lamp for a better
view. The first several drawers he opened held what one would expect. Sheet
music with various arrangements for Dagger’s songs. Contracts. Directories.
Calendars. Nothing very interesting.
One drawer was unlabeled except for a symbol -- a skull and
bones. Humor, perhaps, but also a clear warning. Of course, that drawer was
locked.
He went back into the main room. If he couldn’t find the
keys to the cabinets here, he might find some other way to get into that
drawer. No keys appeared, but a toolbox sat on the floor in one corner. He
knelt by it, lifted the top, and found a heavy screwdriver and a hammer. With
those in hand, he went back into the file room and began to work on the locked
drawer.
After a few minutes and quite a bit of work, he managed to
force it open and looked inside. Sure enough, it held lots of letters to
various members of staff. Dagger hadn’t singled Lauren out for mistreatment.
None of his people got all their mail. Included in the pile, he found the
letters from the talent agency, but he found another one too. The return
address had the name Tim King. Timmy? Lauren’s little brother.
He took the letter from the opened envelope and read.
Dear Ms. King,
I found your name on Kid
Dagger’s website. I’m writing in hopes that you’re my sister who disappeared a
few years ago.
A picture slipped from the
envelope. It showed a teenage girl and a younger boy. Lauren -- his Lauren --
and her brother, the author of the letter. He turned the letter over and read
the end.
If you are my sister, I want
you to know that your family loves you and misses you. Please get in contact
with us so that we can patch things up and be a family again.
Love, Timmy
Verdammter Scheisskopf . Dagger had kept Lauren away
from her own family. She thought they hated her. Losing the world was bad
enough, but it didn’t come close to losing the people who loved her.
Now, at least, he’d be able to convince her to leave. If he
took the rest of the letters, maybe he’d be able to get the whole crew to quit.
He scooped all the paper up into his arms and only then
noticed a plastic bag in the bottom of the drawer. When he put the letters
inside, his hand hit something else. A leather binder. He scooped that out -- a
ledger of some sort. Inside was page after page of entries. Some kind of
transactions with weights in grams and kilos and sums of money. Huge sums of
money. Whatever these weights were, they cost a lot per gram. Like caviar or
white truffles. Or cocaine. Lieber Gott
them asked for more information. The only negative ones suggested that she
contact them later to see if they’d had an opening.
Jake pounded his fist against the table. Someone had
intercepted these e-mails and kept them from her.
Bastard. Dagger kept his people like serfs. He made them
dependent on him for the drugs they were hooked on. Then, if one of them
managed to get off the drugs as Lauren had, he convinced them the rest of the
world didn’t want them. Who knew how many of his staff could live happy and
productive lives somewhere else? Lauren would, starting today. Then, when she’d
gotten away from him and had a chance to clear her mind, the two of them would
figure out what to do about the others. Dagger would not get away with
this forever.
He clicked through a few more e-mails. As the talent agency
got more and more frantic to talk to Lauren, they mentioned letters they’d sent
through the regular mail. She’d had paper correspondence she’d never seen.
He swiveled away from the computer and looked around for a
place Dagger’s people might have hidden those letters. His gaze fell on a side
room. Little more than a huge closet, it had no windows, but it did have file
cabinets in it. The storage room. If they’d saved Lauren’s letters, he might
find them in there.
He walked in and switched on the overhead lamp for a better
view. The first several drawers he opened held what one would expect. Sheet
music with various arrangements for Dagger’s songs. Contracts. Directories.
Calendars. Nothing very interesting.
One drawer was unlabeled except for a symbol -- a skull and
bones. Humor, perhaps, but also a clear warning. Of course, that drawer was
locked.
He went back into the main room. If he couldn’t find the
keys to the cabinets here, he might find some other way to get into that
drawer. No keys appeared, but a toolbox sat on the floor in one corner. He
knelt by it, lifted the top, and found a heavy screwdriver and a hammer. With
those in hand, he went back into the file room and began to work on the locked
drawer.
After a few minutes and quite a bit of work, he managed to
force it open and looked inside. Sure enough, it held lots of letters to
various members of staff. Dagger hadn’t singled Lauren out for mistreatment.
None of his people got all their mail. Included in the pile, he found the
letters from the talent agency, but he found another one too. The return
address had the name Tim King. Timmy? Lauren’s little brother.
He took the letter from the opened envelope and read.
Dear Ms. King,
I found your name on Kid
Dagger’s website. I’m writing in hopes that you’re my sister who disappeared a
few years ago.
A picture slipped from the
envelope. It showed a teenage girl and a younger boy. Lauren -- his Lauren --
and her brother, the author of the letter. He turned the letter over and read
the end.
If you are my sister, I want
you to know that your family loves you and misses you. Please get in contact
with us so that we can patch things up and be a family again.
Love, Timmy
Verdammter Scheisskopf . Dagger had kept Lauren away
from her own family. She thought they hated her. Losing the world was bad
enough, but it didn’t come close to losing the people who loved her.
Now, at least, he’d be able to convince her to leave. If he
took the rest of the letters, maybe he’d be able to get the whole crew to quit.
He scooped all the paper up into his arms and only then
noticed a plastic bag in the bottom of the drawer. When he put the letters
inside, his hand hit something else. A leather binder. He scooped that out -- a
ledger of some sort. Inside was page after page of entries. Some kind of
transactions with weights in grams and kilos and sums of money. Huge sums of
money. Whatever these weights were, they cost a lot per gram. Like caviar or
white truffles. Or cocaine. Lieber Gott
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