Master of Plagues - D. B. Reynolds (superbooks4u TXT) 📗

towards the car. Using trick camera angles and special effects, the actor climbed inside the Mercedes and was quickly replaced on the driver’s side by the stuntman.
The stuntman turned the key to the ignition and the car exploded. The car jumped at least a foot off the ground. The combined mixture of high viscosity of motor oil and diesel oil created huge clouds of black smoke. The plastic explosives near the hinges of the doors had blown the hood and trunk and doors clean off. The explosive pod placed between the steel plate arranged for the car parts to be blown upward.
Strong winds coming off the Pacific Ocean blew around the movie set. Taylor and the film crew thought another major earthquake had hit Los Angeles since the ground under them shook with ultimate force. Ocean water of the saltiest form spilled down Taylor and the others. They looked up in the sky and a school of sharks flew from above. The golden sun and scattered clouds no longer dominated the L.A. skies.
Commodore Mowab and his legion of loyal sharks made their presence known. The entire film crew ran up and down the street inside the gated Beverly Hills community. Desperately, they tried avoiding any attacks. Two shovelhead sharks swooped down and landed blows to the head of a cameraman. A number of angel sharks slapped the crew of make-up artists and hairdressers with their flexible fins.
A team of saw sharks surrounded members of the construction and location crews. They took small bites into their arms and legs. Two sand-tiger sharks swung their fins at the knees of the cinematographer and director of photographer. They leveled them right on their backsides. The sharks shot ocean water out their mouths and completely drenched them.
The sharp teeth went scraping across their faces. Taylor ducked behind one of the film crew trucks. Commodore Mowab, the great white shark who was the largest of them all, pushed the truck until it turned over. The bright fluorescent blue from his body almost blinded Taylor.
“Where’d you come from?” Taylor asked the commodore, scared out of his mind.
“I have been sent by my master,” Commodore Mowab revealed to Taylor, widening his mouth to show the ridges of his large pointed teeth.
“Who’s your master?”
“Taylor, you know my master very well. He’s a part of your past.”
“How do you know my name?” he inquired, shakes going all through him.
“My master has told me all about you.”
“You said that he was a part of my past. How is that so?”
“My master has sent me to be a plague on you.”
“A plague?”
“Yes, a plague that will have you crawling to him on your hands and knees to beg for his forgiveness.”
“Why do I have to ask your master for forgiveness?”
“Taylor, you lost your standards of morality a long time ago.”
“That’s not true at all. I’m a morally-correct man.”
“Your disobedience has caused you to be plagued.”
“This can’t be happening to me. This is one of my worst nightmares.”
“You’re wide awake.”
“But sharks don’t fly on dry land and they don’t talk like humans.”
“This shark does.”
“I hate sharks!” Taylor gurgitated. “Sharks give me the creeps! Your slippery-slimery skin makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Taylor, you and I are going to get acquainted very well with one another.”
“Just go and leave me alone.”
Commodore Mowab lifted Taylor off the ground with his powerful fins. He spread his mouth and growled at him with rows of razor-sharp teeth. The commodore flew high through the sky with him wedged between his fins. He dropped him to the ground. Taylor landed right on his stomach. None of his bones were broken. Swiftly flying towards him, Commodore Mowab clenched a mouthful of Taylor’s pants. Painfully, he sunk those rows of needle-sharp teeth deep into his backside.
The school of other sharks gushed out gallons of water to extinguish the flames around the burning car. The entire film crew had dispersed from the set and left Taylor lying on his stomach with a badly bruised backside. Commodore Mowab felt Taylor had had enough. He and his school faded away into the clear skies. Taylor still wished he knew who Commodore Mowab’s master was.


CHAPTER—27

SINCERITY IN SIN CITY

Too bad members of what Stuart dubbed as the egomaniacal eight underestimated his powers. Too bad they didn’t believe him when he said how their heartless prank on him at the impoverished South Bronx motel would come back to bite them in the backside. Literally, he meant just that. Las Vegas would be the next city he’d skip over to. Bright lights, the big city, pretty women, fast cars, big cashflow, they were surely the epitome of Las Vegas high living.
The drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas was expeditious and relaxing. Stuart decided to go with the hallmarks of contentment and opulence the Bellagio luxury hotel and casino had to offer. Feeling like a king on his throne, he almost got the wind knocked out of him when he stepped inside the lobby of the AAA Five Diamond Award-winning Las Vegas hotel. He opened the doors to his rented expansive penthouse suite and his heart pounded against his chest.
Rich Jewish guys like him could afford such privileges that the Duffelmeyer wealth bolstered. Why not be good to yourself? Those were his exact sentiments. You only lived once and the world had so much to offer. The penthouse suite he’d pumped out big dollars for covered a total of two-thousand square feet of space. The two bedroom suite connected to a tower deluxe guestroom for an additional bedroom.
Stuart looked around and felt like he’d died and found Heaven on Earth. He stepped into the master bedroom and toyed around with the climate control buttons. How nice it would’ve been for him to share the open living and dining areas with someone of the opposite sex. The bathroom sent icy vibrations up his spine. There were his and hers baths equipped with steam showers, soaking whirlpool tubs, deluxe spa products, robes and slippers, illuminated makeup and shaving mirrors, and a wet bar with a refrigerator.
The Bellagio-themed art décor aroused his taste for fine culture. Stuart looked out the windows and witnessed the most alluring scene in all of Las Vegas. Nighttime had arrived and the strip was lit up with the most panoramic view. The penthouse suite made him feel more than at home. Refined indulgences gave him a sense of having arrived. Up and down the busy strip went cars and tourists.
Stuart hesitated not one bit of taking advantage of the superior amenities afforded to him by the penthouse suite. For him, it was like being on top of the world. He dove into the whirlpool tub and soaked with a lavender and peach bubble bath. How relaxing it was to forget about all his troubles. He nursed a lime soda while slipping into his own never-never world. A staggering transformation had taken place with Stuart. Gone were the thick, coke bottle glasses. Gone were the nerdy clothing and goofy hairstyle. Gone was the awkward demeanor which turned women away.
Stuart took on a new look that was absolutely irresistible. He looked good. He smelled good. He felt good. Not only was he in the “Entertainment Capital of the World”, but he was also in the “City of Sin”. Why not dress up and treat yourself to the finer things in life?
Inside the Bellagio Hotel’s Le Cirque French Restaurant, Stuart had been seated in a dining section with plush Italian sofas. He sipped on a tall glass of chilled wine while he waited for his meal. The young Jewish man came to Las Vegas to not only settle some unfinished business, but to basically spoil himself. Stuart believed that once you were dead, you weren’t coming back no more. But Rabbi Wedemeyer proved you could come back in the spiritual form.
On one of their slower nights, Le Cirque Restaurant had only a few customers dining there. Halfway across the restaurant, a beautiful woman with long flowing black hair and café ole skin, kept giving Stuart the eye. Far from looking like one of those high-priced Vegas women, she smiled at him with perfect straight white teeth. Stuart smiled right back. Surprisingly, she also occupied a table by herself. Who would make the first move?
Stuart mustered up enough courage to wave at her. She waved back with a feministic hand gesture. Taking his courage to another level, he signaled for her to come over to his table. He abruptly shed the shyness he’d experienced all through high school and college. A new image and demeanor he’d taken on. She stood up and the designer red dress she wore hugged every toned curve she had.
The strange woman stepped up to the table and said, “I’d like to know, why is a handsome fella like yourself sitting here all by yourself?”
“Gosh!” Stuart loosened up, hooked right in by her stunning beauty. “I was going to leave my table and come over to ask you the exact same thing.”
“Mind if I have a seat?”
“No, no, no,” Stuart accepted, jumping up and pulling her chair out.
She looked him up and down with a warm smile. “Your wife or girlfriend won’t mind, will she?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question?”
“What?”
“About your husband or boyfriend.”
“Don’t have neither one of them.”
Stuart extended his hand across the table. “By the way, I’m Stuart Duffelmeyer.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she obliged, flirtatiously caressing his hand. “I’m Laura Rivenburg.”
“Rivenburg’s your last name?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Maiden or married name?”
“Maiden, since I’ve never been married.”
“You Jewish?”
“Full-blooded, all day long, twenty-four/seven.”
“So am I.”
“Duffelmeyer is Jewish, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“So, where are you from?”
“New York.”
“What part?”
“Staten Island. And yourself?”
“I’m from New