Chapter 84: Codename: Aconite Chapter Thirty-Four
I reach into my purse, withdraw the syringe I have tucked away, and slip it into my sleeve. Since Silas and I need Haruspex alive to question him, I brought one of my favourite little cocktails. The mixture is a chemically altered combination of botulinum toxin and hyoscyamus niger, also known as henbane. Botulinum toxin is a highly potent neurotoxin protein produced by the bacterium clostridium botulinum. The same protein that is responsible for both botulism and botox. That’s right, the same neurotoxin that can kill you helps fight the signs of aging.
Henbane, on the other hand, has anaesthetic properties while also being a psychoactive drug. I managed to separate the paralytic qualities in botulinum toxin and the anaesthetic properties in hyscyamus niger to create the ultimate knock-out drug. The correct dose renders a person immobile while giving them a high sensation and leaving the respiratory system unharmed. Just need to inject him in a nice meaty part of his body and the effects will be instantaneous.
Soon Laurant – aka Haruspex – enters the room and hands me a freshly brewed cup of tea.
“Thank you very much,” I say appreciatively as I take the tea from him.
“It’s a bit hot, you may want to blow on it,” he warns while casually plopping himself onto a sofa.
I raise the cup to my nose and briefly inhale and must immediately resist the urge to burst out laughing. I take another whiff and sure enough, I detect the subtle smell of bitter almonds, something commonly detected in the presence of cyanide. The irony of trying to poison the Queen of Poisons is not lost on me. In fact, I find it incredibly amusing.
With a smile on my face, I place the cup down on a nearby surface and turn to face Haruspex.
“Something wrong?” he asks suspiciously.
“Much. Honestly, I find your lack of effort insulting. I’ve seen many staged crime scenes, but this might be one of the worst. It’s clumsy and haphazard and an insult to my skills,” I say disappointedly. Not to mention Camille’s skills.
His face slips into one of aggression. “And what makes you think this is staged?”
“Firstly, the mantel is far too small to house a Roman vessel like the one you described. I’m sure something sat there, but it wasn’t a vessel or urn. Secondly, you say the burglar,” I say with air quotes for emphasis. “Broke into the château, yet the broken glass from the patio door is on the outside. Indicating that when the door was closed someone broke it from the inside. Also, since you claim this all happened at 3 in the morning, I’m going to assume that you, in fact, staged this scene shortly before I arrived, due to the fact you claimed to not have disturbed the scene and yet, there is broken glass embedded into the soles of your shoes,” I point out as I discreetly let the syringe slip into my palm as he glances down at the soles of his shoes to discover the bits of glass I was referring to.
“You’re very perceptive,” he says in a disgruntled tone, his false persona slowly dropping.
“And cyanide? Really? What is this, the forties?” I scoff.
His eyes widen in shock and anger and in a single second, he’s up on his feet lunging at me with a deranged look in his eyes. The performance is dropped, and the killer has now been unleashed. I flick the cap off the syringe and rush at him aiming the syringe for his arm, but he manages to grab my wrist just before the needle can reach him. He looks from the needle to me with surprise, and then grabs me by my jacket with his free arm, pushing me back and shoving me against the patio door with enough force to make the glass shatter on impact.
I let out a groan as he slams my hand repeatedly against the frame until I unwillingly release my hold on the syringe. Now disarmed, I ram my head into his doing my best to block out the throbbing ache in my skull. He briefly lets me go and stumbles back slightly, and I take the opeing. I wrap my arm around his neck and swing onto his back, wrapping my legs around him as I put him in a headlock and begin to apply pressure. My sunglasses fall off my face as he endeavours to throw me off his back, but I maintain my hold. He reaches back gripping the back of my head and yanks hard, but instead of yanking my hair, all he does is remove the wig from my head.
He looks at the wig, momentarily stunned, but snaps out of it and grabs a hold of my forearm as he throws us backwards with his full body weight. I let out a cry as I feel my back hit the mantle with extreme force, and while it makes my hold slacken a fraction, it’s not enough to make me let go. Suddenly I hear the sound of something cutting through the air at high velocity just as Haruspex lets out an agonised cry of pain. He lets go of my forearm as he drops to the ground, clutching his thigh. I roll off him only to notice the blood seeping through his hands. I look through the patio glass expecting to see Silas hidden amongst the tree line, but I can’t see him. But I don’t have to see him to know he’s there. The bullet in Haruspex’s thigh tells me all I need to know.
I crawl across the floor and grasp the syringe just as I feel Haruspex grab a hold of my ankle.
“Get back here you bitch!” he spits in anger. He yanks me across the floor, climbing on top of me, and just as he’s about to wrap his bloody hands around my throat, I jam the syringe into his neck and push down on the plunger. His eyes widen and he clasps his neck as I withdraw the syringe. He crawls off me just as I see the veins in his neck become pronounced. I slowly sit up, my entire back aching in protest from the action just as Haruspex begins to claw at his throat while gasping for air. I begin to panic when I see his jugular vein become distended.
“Shit.” I slide over to him and grasp his face, but he tries to push me away. “I’m trying to fucking help you!” I snap. I get behind him and force him to lie down on the floor as he begins clutching his chest and struggling to take in breath. I race over to the sofa and grab a pillow, then return and place it under his head, elevating his head to a thirty-degree angle, but it doesn’t seem to be improving his condition. “I’ve never said this to someone before, but don’t you dare fucking die,” I grit in frustration.
He begins to thrash around in a panic, now unable to breath. He needs desperate medical attention, but no ambulance will arrive in time and even if one could, I couldn’t risk calling them and alerting authorities. With nothing that can be done, I scoot back and watch as he spasms and convulses until, finally, his body goes still. He lays there, his eyes bloodshot and open wide staring up at the ceiling frozen in fear. The capillaries around his eyes have burst and I’m unsure if it was the asphyxiation or cardiac episode that took him out. I rest my arms on my knees and hang my head in defeat just as Silas bursts in through the open patio door with a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder.
He looks from Haruspex to me as he catches his breath. He walks over and kneels down, checking Haruspex’s pulse, no doubt finding nothing.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks.
“He attacked me, and shit got out of control.”
“Yeah, that I fucking saw for myself. We needed him alive, why the fuck is he dead?” he snaps.
“He was about to choke me, and I am getting seriously sick of men choking me outside of the bedroom. I grabbed my syringe, and I plunged it into his neck, okay?” I say belligerently.
“You said that cocktail was only supposed to knock him out!”
“It was! But I reacted on impulse and shot him in the neck. The cocktail needs to be injected somewhere fatty; he just got a shot practically in his heart. He went into a cardiac episode and there was nothing I could do,” I explain in frustration.
“For fuck sake, Dasha!” he shouts, getting to his feet. “This is why I shot him in the leg and not the head,” he says in aggravation, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. “Why did he attack you anyway?”
“He gave me tea which I realised was laced with cyanide. Obviously, I wasn’t going to drink it and he was already getting impatient with having to continue his charade, so I just called out his bullshit. He didn’t deny it, he just went into attack mode,” I say, getting to my feet with a groan, rubbing my back to soothe the ache. I’m definitely going to have some new bruises.
Silas sighs and walks over cupping my face in his hands. I look up at him as his thumbs tenderly brush against my cheeks. “Are you okay?”
“You’ve done worse,” I say with a smirk.
He smirks in response and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. He then wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest, enveloping me in his warm embrace. I’ve never been in this situation before. I never work with a partner, and I’ve never had someone there to comfort me when a job goes south, but I could definitely get used to it. I wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek against his chest, instantly being lulled into relaxation by the sound of his rapidly beating heart.