We were back in the morgue. Xavier was looking over the bodies of the new victims. Carefully, he removed the head cages.
“Now, tell us about the Brazen Bull.” Lucas got comfortable on one of the empty tables.
“The legs are filled with metal. The top opens from the outside; occasionally the ass end does as well. It works on a hinge system with a lock. The legs keep it balanced even while the person inside is fighting to get out.”
“Ignore that part; tell us about the uses, the specifications.” Lucas interrupted.
“Ok, well, there’s a fire under it. The flames control the pace at which the victim dies. Large flames heat the metal quickly, small flames heat it gradually. The big thing though is the air inside. The speed at which it heats up has a lot to do with how long the victim lives. If the air stays cool on the inside, this means the victims that are on all four limbs, suffer from third degree burns long before they die. Most victims probably die of shock. There is usually an air hole through the nostrils. It provides air that can come and go, keeps the interior cooler than the exterior. It also allows the bull to make ‘noise’. The skin will begin to peel away as it burns from touching the metal. The part that kills you though, is when the air inside gets hot. You breathe it in; it begins to cook your throat and lungs.”
“How long does it take?” Xavier asked.
“Hours upon hours, depending on how long you want it to take. There is one described as taking days because they kept the flames minimal, so it’d be like being in an oven at 100 to 150 degrees. There are others though where the victim died in less than four hours because the flames were stoked.”
“Four hours is still a long time, three hours is a long time, when you have ten victims. If we can get the specs, can you tell how many will fit inside of them?” Lucas asked.
“Yes,” I frowned at him.
“What?” He asked.
“That’s the complicated part. The more people inside, the less stable, which means a stabilization mechanism would have to be attached. Also, it means they are going to die a lot slower unless they don’t have air holes or the air holes are small. The largest one ever made, would allow a human hand to come out the nostril. The seams where the metal met at the hatches were left with tiny gaps to allow more air circulation.”
“They were getting their money’s worth,” Xavier said as he turned on a small drill. I looked to see him working on a rat.
“What are you doing?”
“I think the girls were sprinkled with the cyanide after they died. Probably to kill the rats. Rats have a different absorption ratio than humans when it comes to lethal doses. I need to know how many absorbed it and how many ate it.”
“Why will that be helpful?”
“Because if I can figure that out, I might be able to more accurately pinpoint how much we missed him by.” Xavier spoke as if it should be self-evident why he was doing a necropsy on the rats.
“I see.”
“Since there were rats still alive, but covered in cyanide,” Xavier looked up at me and shrugged.
“We didn’t miss him by much.” I finished his thought.
“Exactly.”
“Back to the upcoming horror,” Lucas brought my focus back to him, “if you were going to do this and wanted it to be as easy as possible, how many bulls?”
“Two, you would never be able to create one that would hold ten. Six is the most I’ve ever heard of.” A light was starting to dawn.
“Where do you store two bulls large enough to hold five people apiece?”
“A storage facility, but you’d need two rooms and the likelihood of someone seeing you move in two very large metal bull sculptures would be high.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.” Lucas stood up and looked around the room.
“Michael is with Alejandro,” I reminded him.
“Then I suggest we join him, because without his computer skills, I’m not sure I can find him.”
“Good idea,” we left the morgue and the stench of death behind us. The smell didn’t leave us behind though. Even nurses moved out of our way as we trekked to the ER. The waiting room was crowded. Lucas showed his badge and while a petite brunette behind the desk tried not to gag, she hit the button to let us in.
We were definitely in a hospital. The back rooms smelled of bleach and ammonia. Most curtains were closed. The few open ones revealed people, trying to go about their life and curtailed by the whims of the human condition. One room had a girl of about nine years old in it; she was getting a cast put on.
“Lucas,” Michael stuck his head out of a door and motioned us over.
We followed Michael through the filmy curtain. His face was dark and set.
“That bad?” Lucas asked him.
“They don’t think he’ll make it. The doctor is calling it a double dose. He got some in the rat bite that went straight to his blood and you were right, he ingested it. One without the other and he might be fine. Together and the antidote isn’t working very well. We’ve called his sister. She wasn’t all that keen on coming, but she’ll be here within a day. Pretty sure he won’t last that long though.” Michael told him.
“Did they tell you the type of cyanide?”
“No, it’s still a mystery. Xavier figure anything out?”
“Not yet. We did though,” Lucas hooked a finger at me.
“What?”
“We want you to search storage units for the name of the company that orders the torture devices. If you find none, find double units and see if anyone noticed someone moving in two very large bull statues. We also need the dimensions for the bulls ordered. Ace thinks the skill required would put the maker of the Iron Maidens at the top of the list.”
“Now that you mention it, he did say something about some odd bull sculptures. Different company, but he said they were massive and bronze.”
“Sounds like the ones. What was the company name?” I asked.
“Alexandra’s Dream Salon.” Michael told me.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” I sighed.
“What?” Michael asked.
“My middle name is Alexandra and my first name means ‘dreams’.”
“Wow, why don’t they make it more obvious.” Michael thought for a minute.
“I bet when we find out who ordered the head cages, it will have something to do with Nyleena. What was the name of the other company?”
“Mala’s Custom Home Interiors,” Michael answered.
“Mala? C-H-I? CHI? I should have asked earlier. Malachi.”
“Huh,” Michael pursed his lips. “The invoice was addressed to a Blake McCain.”
“Son of a bitch, it was there all the time.” Lucas bowed his head. “From now on, we need to do a better job of sharing all information.”
“Alejandro wasn’t an information sharer,” Michael said.
“Well, even if he recovers, he won’t be coming back to work, so we’ll have to train our new liaison on info sharing,” Lucas looked at that bed, “I always expected him to die. But, I figured someone would exact revenge with a machete.”
Chapter 52