Read Grimm - The Icy Touch for Free Online Page B

Yeah, okay. You were there for me, going back, man. Where you want to meet?”
    “How about... Marine Terminal 2—on Northwest Front. Right outside the main gate to the docks.”
    “Out in all that industrial stuff? Sure, okay. Will I be able to find you, out there?”
    “I know your truck, man. I’ll see you.”
    “When?”
    “Soon as possible. I’m in trouble, Monroe. So... soon as possible. Thanks, man. I owe you.”
    And he hung up.
    * * *
    Hank walked up to the desk with the take-out.
    “They didn’t have the sweet and sour chicken,” he said, sitting in the chair across from Nick. “I got you that prawn thing you like instead.”
    “It’s all good,” Nick said distractedly, turning the page on the report. He glanced at his watch as Hank pushed the cartons of Chinese food over to him.
    “Almost seven p.m,” Hank said. “Another dinner at the precinct. Hell, you shouldn’t be here, you got someone prettier to have dinner with.”
    “Prettier than you? Come to think of it, she is.” Nick hadn’t heard from Juliette that evening. But they hadn’t had a date for dinner. He’d just been kind of hoping she’d invite him over. She worked late at the veterinary clinic, sometimes. Maybe that was it. Or maybe she was just brooding about whether or not she could trust him. They were back together—and then again, they weren’t.
    “So, to review...” Hank prompted, as he spooned broccoli beef from his carton.
    “To review,” Nick said, “the cartel’s based in France, Marseilles.”
    “Ah. Good old Marseilles. Happy home to many a criminal concern.”
    “Yeah. Maybe they figure that’s protective coloration. The Wesen organization is camouflaged by the human ones. Around there they call it La Caresse Glacée. Meaning touch of ice, or the icy touch. Rumor has a guy named Denswoz running it. Another rumor here says he’s just the American boss. Just rumors.”
    Denswoz.
    Something about the name made the hair stand up on the back of Nick’s neck. Had he heard his mother mention the name, once?
    “What other places they known to get down and dirty?” Hank asked, reaching for his coffee.
    “Uh... Germany, Argentina, Russia, Mexico... America. More rumors say they’ve chosen Portland as their West Coast headquarters.”
    “Why Portland?”
    “No one knows. Shipping, maybe?”
    “Any local names?”
    “One guy arrested. Died in jail. Found slashed up.”
    “Slashed up. Like, with a knife?”
    “Coroner says more like...” Nick read the report aloud. “‘Possible weapon: multi-pronged gardening implement.’”
    “Garden implement. In prison?”
    Nick shrugged. “Or maybe... claws.”
    Hank stopped eating, and looked at him.
    “Claws. Wesen again.”
    “Could be. Fits with other reports of Icy Touch victims—people who didn’t want to be extorted, didn’t want to pay up—didn’t want to work for them. Bodies slashed, multiple wounds. Some found burned same way as Buddy Clement. One with his guts melted out of him...”
    “Like that thing, what was it...” Hank glanced around to see if anyone else in the office were listening. No one was nearby.
    “Spinnetod. Spider people.”
    Hank grimaced. “I hate that one.”
    “Lot of people with bite marks attributed to attack dogs. But...”
    “Could be Blutbad.”
    Nick nodded. “Or Schakal. Jackal people.”
    “Sounds like they’re using Wesen to terrorize people. Scarier than a thug with a gun.”
    “Using Wesen... maybe. But there’s so much of it— could be they are Wesen.”
    “Yeah. You want to check out that warehouse Buddy was supposed to be digging up?”
    “Oh—sorry, should’ve shown you this.” He handed Hank a two-page report. “Renard sent a team over there. Some indication that a tunnel was begun, and abandoned. Like they found out the department was interested. What’s interesting is the place doesn’t warehouse finished pills. It’s only ingredients—chemicals, hormones, enzymes, everything that goes