Chapter 35: The Jackal
The Golden Jackal occupied a corner lot in Southeast Portland's industrial fringe—a converted warehouse that had been turned into a bar sometime in the nineties and hadn't been updated since. The exterior was weathered brick and faded neon, the kind of establishment that attracted people who didn't want to be noticed.
Cole spent two days learning its secrets.
The bar operated from 4 PM to 2 AM, serving cheap drinks to a clientele that ranged from blue-collar workers to obvious criminals. Marcus Raines kept an office on the second floor, accessible only through a stairway behind the bar. He lived in an apartment on the third floor and rarely descended before evening.
[TARGET ASSESSMENT REQUESTED]
[MARCUS RAINES]
[SPECIES: SCHAKAL]
[CLASSIFICATION: CLASS B THREAT]
[CRIMES: EXTORTION (47 DOCUMENTED CASES), DRUG DISTRIBUTION, PROTECTION RACKETEERING, ACCESSORY TO MURDER (3 CONFIRMED)]
[VERRAT AFFILIATION: UNOFFICIAL — SELLS SERVICES, NO FORMAL MEMBERSHIP]
[VALIDATION STATUS: CONFIRMED EVIL — VALID TARGET]
Six employees confirmed. Four armed—two Wesen, two human. The Wesen are Hundjäger, probably hired muscle.
The operation's security was professional but predictable. Guards rotated positions every four hours. The back entrance was alarmed but not monitored by camera. The second-floor office had one entrance and no windows large enough for escape.
A fortress. But everyone has to leave sometime.
Except Raines didn't leave. Three days of surveillance confirmed what Adalind had warned—the Schakal conducted all his business from inside the building, meeting clients and associates in the office rather than exposing himself to outside risk.
He knows he's made enemies. He's being careful.
Cole needed a different approach.
The fake buyer identity took two days to construct.
Cole created a paper trail for "Michael Warren"—a wealthy out-of-towner interested in certain specialty products that Catherine Schade was known to provide. The cover included a temporary email address, a burner phone, and enough digital history to survive casual scrutiny.
Warren's approach was simple: he'd heard about Catherine's products from a mutual acquaintance, but she wasn't taking new clients. Could Raines facilitate an introduction? For triple the usual broker's fee, of course.
The message went out on December 9th. Raines responded within four hours.
Interested. Meeting to discuss terms. Tomorrow night, 10 PM. Come alone.
Cole smiled at the screen. Greed was the most reliable weakness—Raines couldn't resist the prospect of triple fees, even if it meant exposing himself to an unknown contact.
The meeting location was a warehouse in the Southeast industrial district—neutral ground, theoretically, but Cole had time to prepare.
"You've been distracted."
Adalind's observation came halfway through a terrible action movie they'd agreed to watch together. She was curled against his side on her couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap, the television casting flickering light across her features.
"Working on something."
"The Raines situation?"
"Yeah."
She was quiet for a moment, then: "I don't want to know details, do I?"
"Probably not."
"Okay." She snuggled closer, her hand finding his under the blanket. "Just... be careful. Please."
The movie continued, something involving improbable car chases and physics-defying explosions. Adalind critiqued the fight choreography—"No one holds a gun like that"—and Cole laughed genuinely at her observations. She fell asleep against his shoulder somewhere around the climactic third act.
He didn't move for an hour.
The warmth of her body against his, the soft sound of her breathing, the simple intimacy of the moment—it was almost enough to make him forget what he was planning for tomorrow night.
Almost.
December 10th brought final preparations.
Cole cleaned his weapons, loaded fresh magazines, and ran scenarios until every contingency was mapped. The warehouse meeting would be controlled territory by the time Raines arrived—Cole planned to scout the location at 6 PM, four hours before the scheduled rendezvous.
The tremor-sense would help. He could detect approaching vehicles through the building's foundation, feel footsteps through concrete floors, track movement patterns without line of sight.
Five targets. Maybe six if Raines brings extra security. I've faced worse odds.
The Volk operation had been larger, but Cole had been weaker then—only two absorptions, still learning his capabilities. Now he had five essences working in concert: Skalenzahne strength, Blutbad speed and senses, Hundjäger tracking and combat reflexes, Skalengeck agility, and Spinnetod patience and tremor-sense.
I'm not the same person who walked into that warehouse in October. I'm something new.
He checked his phone one last time. No messages from Adalind—she was giving him space, understanding without understanding what he was doing.
After tomorrow, she'll owe me. After tomorrow, the relationship changes.
Cole locked his apartment and headed for the warehouse.
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