The Exile: Episode 58

“The Calypso Club,” I read. “Any connection to this Calypso the sisters mentioned?”

“Don’t know, man, but I want a gig at this place. Major sweetness,” Cazonetti smiled, fingering an imaginary guitar.

“We better get moving,” I laughed. “Don’t forget your guitar.”

Taking care to avoid a direct route, Cazonetti and I hurried back to the warehouse. We took a few cabs in the wrong direction then hiked a little. The ten-minute trip stretched into half an hour, but we couldn’t risk being followed. When we turned the corner at the warehouse front, I spotted Heckle lounging outside disguised as a bum. As we walked up, Cazonetti reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“Hey, boss,” he greeted as we stepped in the door.

Heckle stood up and hurried in behind us.

“How’d you know it was me? I was in disguise,” Heckle pointed out.

“What disguise?” Cazonetti asked.

Before Heckle could protest, I asked,

“How’s it going with our unwilling guest? Is he talking?”

Heckle pushed past and said with a smirk,

“You’re going to love this. He’s not just talking, he’s asking for help.”

“What?” I asked.


“Yep,” Heckle replied excitedly. “Come on.”

Heckle lead us to the interrogation room where Jeckle and Lorelei were talking to Colin Summers. The hotel manager was wringing his hands.

When they saw that we were back, they told Summers,

“All right. One more time now that our team has arrived.”

Summers wiped his forehead and twisted the handkerchief in his hand.

“I don’t want to be part of the agency you’re after. This isn’t a gag. At first it was a good team run by three people. But after a while, they turned on each another. Now only one is alive, and she’s threatening to destroy everything if we don’t find the guy you call the exile and bring him in. I don’t even know why she wants him dead, but it’s all she ever talks about. It’s driving me crazy! I have a very delicate constitution, and my heart can’t take this anymore. I’ll help you find the head of the agency, and you can do whatever you have to. Just keep me safe! Please! That’s all I ask.”

He stopped to take a breath then his eyes grew large as though he had an idea.

“I-I-I own the hotel outright! I’ll give it to you! Whatever it takes! Please help me!” he pleaded.

“All right,” Jeckle said, motioning for Cazonetti and me to enter. “I think we can help.”

When Cazonetti and I entered the room, Summers’ face turned pasty white.

He let out a scream then fell backwards over the chair and scrambled into the corner whimpering,

“Please, don’t hurt me!”

Lorelei walked over to the terrified Summers and talked to him in a voice we could not hear. After a few minutes, Summers began to calm down. He reached into his pocket and handed her something. She took it and studied it for a minute before walking over to Jeckle.

“Look at this,” she said.

“What is it?” Jeckle asked.

“Summers says it’s the last photo taken of all three heads of the agency before they turned on one another,” she explained.

Jeckle took the picture, looked at it then glanced up at me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You’d better see for yourself.”

I stepped forward and took the photo from his hand.

Three people stood together. One was a beautiful brunette with the angular, balanced features of a high-fashion model. To her right was Jackson, the man who had pursued me before his death. And to her left was me.


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