and
killing them; worthless creatures, they existed for his pleasure and he would
indulge whenever he desired.
The Big Indian moved into the
shadows of an adjacent alley and felt under his shirt for the stake taped to
his ribs. The strike had been fast, unbelievably fast even by Vampire
standards and bold, hunting on the streets of Seattle during rush hour. Taking
this one would require all his skill and courage. Closing his eyes to
center himself he breathed deeply into his lungs remembering the thick clean
smell of the forest. Behind him a door opened from a kitchen and a worker
hoisting a garbage pail clanged the dumpster as he emptied the refuse.
The hunt for this one would be challenging.
CHAPTER 9
Arabella sat in her apartment
waiting for a murder. Far beneath her, piers like fingers reached
into Elliot Bay snaring fat ferries scuttling across the sea. Bright sun
shone through where sleet grey clouds improbably broke, splashing huge swaths
of summer across the waves so that here it was green and there blue. In the far
distance the grey of the sky merged with the sea, promising another blow out of
the Northwest but for now, at least, the monotony was broken with a hint of the
summer to come.
Perched 500 feet in the air, she
had the perfect mixture of downtown life, the best view in the city and, most
important, anonymity. The building was an office tower built a
hundred years ago with a single apartment at the apex. The best part about the
building was that the elevators still had uniformed operators, a vestigial past
she appreciated.
Protected by a very long-term lease
executed years ago in the name of one of her shadow corporations, the apartment
provided the privacy her lifestyle required. The rent was paid yearly in
advance and she had never had a single communication with the building
owner. If anything needed repair she took care of it herself, and her
periodic remodels had been accomplished quickly and quietly, due to her
willingness to pay whatever it cost to get the job done at night, quietly and,
most importantly, her way.
A succession of investment
companies had bought and sold the building throughout the real estate bubble
and at each transfer, the purchaser’s lawyers had communicated with her
lawyers, and estopple certificates were signed, and lease amendments executed
until no one in present ownership had any idea who actually occupied the
premises, nor did they really care as the rent was on time and there had never
been a tenant complaint.
At the most recent closing, an
alarm rang faintly in the brain of the junior associate employed at the buyer’s
law firm as he reviewed the lease and noticed the singular absence of a
landlord inspection clause or even any evidence in the file that anyone had
been inside the leased premises. Dutifully raising the point and having
it reviewed by both the junior partner and senior partner assigned to the sale
transaction, a letter was sent certified mail return receipt requested to the
tenant’s attorneys, a small but prestigious old line firm located in
Philadelphia, PA, requesting an inspection of the premises forthwith and demanding
execution of the enclosed amendment to the lease correcting what must have been
an oversight by previous counsel. In addition, the letter noted a lack of
information with respect to the identity of the person or persons currently
occupying the leased premises and requested that they be informed forthwith of
the occupant’s identity.
Needless to say, the firm was
shocked to receive a prompt response by lowly first class mail threatening to
retain local counsel and bring immediate action against the landlord if anyone
attempted in any way to access their client’s leasehold premises and, further,
that the lease would not be amended and to stop communicating with them as they
had no desire to incur legal bills on behalf of their client for such nonsense.
The firm received and reviewed
killing them; worthless creatures, they existed for his pleasure and he would
indulge whenever he desired.
The Big Indian moved into the
shadows of an adjacent alley and felt under his shirt for the stake taped to
his ribs. The strike had been fast, unbelievably fast even by Vampire
standards and bold, hunting on the streets of Seattle during rush hour. Taking
this one would require all his skill and courage. Closing his eyes to
center himself he breathed deeply into his lungs remembering the thick clean
smell of the forest. Behind him a door opened from a kitchen and a worker
hoisting a garbage pail clanged the dumpster as he emptied the refuse.
The hunt for this one would be challenging.
CHAPTER 9
Arabella sat in her apartment
waiting for a murder. Far beneath her, piers like fingers reached
into Elliot Bay snaring fat ferries scuttling across the sea. Bright sun
shone through where sleet grey clouds improbably broke, splashing huge swaths
of summer across the waves so that here it was green and there blue. In the far
distance the grey of the sky merged with the sea, promising another blow out of
the Northwest but for now, at least, the monotony was broken with a hint of the
summer to come.
Perched 500 feet in the air, she
had the perfect mixture of downtown life, the best view in the city and, most
important, anonymity. The building was an office tower built a
hundred years ago with a single apartment at the apex. The best part about the
building was that the elevators still had uniformed operators, a vestigial past
she appreciated.
Protected by a very long-term lease
executed years ago in the name of one of her shadow corporations, the apartment
provided the privacy her lifestyle required. The rent was paid yearly in
advance and she had never had a single communication with the building
owner. If anything needed repair she took care of it herself, and her
periodic remodels had been accomplished quickly and quietly, due to her
willingness to pay whatever it cost to get the job done at night, quietly and,
most importantly, her way.
A succession of investment
companies had bought and sold the building throughout the real estate bubble
and at each transfer, the purchaser’s lawyers had communicated with her
lawyers, and estopple certificates were signed, and lease amendments executed
until no one in present ownership had any idea who actually occupied the
premises, nor did they really care as the rent was on time and there had never
been a tenant complaint.
At the most recent closing, an
alarm rang faintly in the brain of the junior associate employed at the buyer’s
law firm as he reviewed the lease and noticed the singular absence of a
landlord inspection clause or even any evidence in the file that anyone had
been inside the leased premises. Dutifully raising the point and having
it reviewed by both the junior partner and senior partner assigned to the sale
transaction, a letter was sent certified mail return receipt requested to the
tenant’s attorneys, a small but prestigious old line firm located in
Philadelphia, PA, requesting an inspection of the premises forthwith and demanding
execution of the enclosed amendment to the lease correcting what must have been
an oversight by previous counsel. In addition, the letter noted a lack of
information with respect to the identity of the person or persons currently
occupying the leased premises and requested that they be informed forthwith of
the occupant’s identity.
Needless to say, the firm was
shocked to receive a prompt response by lowly first class mail threatening to
retain local counsel and bring immediate action against the landlord if anyone
attempted in any way to access their client’s leasehold premises and, further,
that the lease would not be amended and to stop communicating with them as they
had no desire to incur legal bills on behalf of their client for such nonsense.
The firm received and reviewed
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