The Devil's Syndicate

by Chris Draper

  “Don't mention it,” Reggie winked and continued drying a beer mug. “See you next time coach.”

  Hawk found the Larabee river 10 minutes South of the town core like Reggie had said. A series of wooden docks jutted out in all directions over the Larabee that flowed East for 100 miles before joining with the Kississmee that connected to the rest of the Everglades. Hawk parked his car near an airboat rental shack loaded with yapping tourists stepping on and off the boats and approached the entrance. The shack was no more than a single room sitting on the edge of the docks that contained a small service desk as well as some souvenirs for sale on a few shelves. Hawk saw a redheaded teenager behind the counter and strode up to him.

  “Hi can you tell me where I can find someone by the name of Clyde?”

  “Clyde's boat isn't back yet.” The kid said. “His tours usually start on the hour and since it's only 12:40 you'll have to wait until 1:00.”

  “Alright, thanks.” Hawk said and left the tiny shack. Since he had time to kill he walked around the dockside gazing around at the vast wilderness that was all around him.

  The day was overcast and the light rain from earlier had subsided but their was a light breeze in the air and Hawk felt exposed in his t-shirt and shorts. He watched the tourists embarking on various airboats and realized he didn't look any different than they did. They probably came from other states like himself to see the famous green kingdom. This was the start of the Florida Everglades after all, a massive area that stretched out for miles around Southern Florida that was often called North America's equivalent to the Amazon rainforest. Hawk wondered what kinds of things lived in that giant green jungle. Maybe Dottie Wagner herself was out there somewhere too, stowed away in a green castle by a bunch of hairy bikers bent on keeping her there as their slave until the end of time. Hawk couldn't say why but he had a feeling that wasn't far from the truth. So far everything had pointed to her being in this direction. From the phonecall the kidnappers had left to the tip from Mr. Choudry in Miami saying that Byron had told him he lived somewhere out here – somehow Hawk knew that Dottie was out there. But where? He could spend an eternity searching for her here and still come up empty handed. He hoped that somehow Clyde would have the answer.

  And it was right at that moment when he heard a distant whizzing sound grow louder and saw an airboat turn into view from behind a row of tall trees. As the boat came closer he saw a large blonde man at the wheel with 4 tourists seated behind and the boat backed slowly into one of the docks and came to a halt.

  Hawk walked over to where the boat had come in and as the four tourists finished disembarking read the crudely painted name on one side of the airboat that said 'Clyde's airboat tours'. The large man with dishwater blonde hair was still on the boat with his back to him, bent over cleaning what looked to be one of the propeller blades on the back. Hawk stepped over so that he was right above him and taped on the side of the boat to get his attention. He looked up at Hawk quizzically.

  “Are you Clyde?”

  The man's expression turned into a wide grin and he pointed to the side of the boat with the name written on it. “Well if I'm not, then I must have stolen his boat!” The man said and let loose a large laugh from the depths of his belly. He was a solidly built man and his belly shook a little when he spoke. Hawk guessed him to be in his late thirties. He stood up and wiped his oily hands on a rag he fished out of his pocket and extended a hand out to Hawk. “Clyde Doucette at your service. How can I help you stranger? You want to buy a ticket for my next run?”

  Hawk shook the big mans hand. He had ash-coloured eyes and a friendly smile.

  “Actually I'm here to find someone and I have it on record that you know most people around these parts. Is that true?”

  “Well yes and no. It's true that I know most people around this area of the state but I wouldn't say I know everybody. Most of the people I see are either tourists or locals.”

  “So if there was someone new to the area, say someone who stuck out then you might remember them?”

  Clyde scratched his chin. “I guess that's true yes, but what would this person look like?”

  “A biker.”

  “A biker?”

  “Yeah, a big guy who rides a motorcycle who might have been with a young woman.”

  Clyde shook his head. “No I can't think of anyone around here who fits that description. I would have remembered them if I'd seen them. We don't get too many bikers through here anymore. Most of them just take the 41 interstate to get to the North of Florida rather than going this way, the roads around here are usually dirt roads and the rocks would eat away at their tires not too mention be a pain in the ass to ride over.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe they moved somewhere in the area and you were away on a tour or something.”

  “Not a chance.” Clyde said with affirmation. “I've been in this area since I was born and know almost everyone here. The invisible man himself couldn't move in without someone finding out about it. The dude you're looking for isn't here.”

  “I believe his name is Byron.”

  “Byron? No I would have remembered if someone came here with a name like that. It's pretty unique.”

  “I see.” Hawk said and tried to think of what to ask next. He was getting worried that maybe his leads were wrong and was trying to think of another angle, another method that could help with finding the enigma known as Byron. “Well let me ask you this then. Say I was an outlaw and I wanted to hide out somewhere in the area, where would I go to hide?”

  “An outlaw? You mean like a gangster?”

  “Sure, something like that.”

  “Well now,” Clyde said. “You're talking about an area larger than Manhattan. I reckon someone could hide out just about anywhere here. The park rangers only cover so much ground in a given month and a lot of the Glades is overgrown with bush. If I was gonna hide out though, I'd probably stick to the Big Cypress area up North. Not a lot of people go up there and it's a maze of swampland and miles of wilderness. If you were gonna hide out somewhere I'd say that would be your best bet. People around these parts are nosey and anywhere else would draw suspicion. If you don't mind me asking, why are you trying to find this Byron guy?”

  “I'm afraid I can't tell you too much. All I can say is that it's important and that it could be a matter of life and death.”

  “Life and death?” Clyde's tone went serious. “Have you contacted the park rangers?”

  “I can't contact them about it.” Hawk said. “Because they would contact the police which I can't have. If this guy's out there somewhere I need to find him on my own. No police involved. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Are you some sort of criminal?” Clyde asked with concern and Hawk waved his hand with a laugh.

  “No, I'm not a criminal. Let's just say I have a vested interest in finding this guy since he has something very important I want.” Hawk looked around to make sure no one was closeby and leaned in to Clyde. “Look Clyde, do you think you can keep a secret?”

  “As long as it's within the law I can.”

  “It's within the law.” Hawk said then told Clyde that he was searching for a man's daughter but didn't tell him any names. He also told him a bit of the backstory on how he got involved in the case. Clyde listened intently then stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking.

  “Jesus that sounds like a movie or something.” He said with a smirk. “Are you sure about all of this?”

  “Why else would I risk my life?” Hawk said. “And risk telling a complete stranger about why I'm here. Do you think you can help me?”

  “Well what would you need me to do?”

  “I need you to take me to this area you mentioned, the Big Cypress. You also seem like you know a lot of people in the area which means I also need you to check around with your friends to see if they've seen anybody who fits the description of this biker.”

  “Okay, but what do I tell them if they ask why I wanna know?”
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br />   “Tell them it's an old friend of yours you're looking for.” Hawk said. “They should believe that.”

  “I have a buddy deeper in the glades we could speak too, if anyone fitting the description of that guy has been around this area he would know. But how do you know you can trust me not to say anything else?”

  “Because if you do you could be getting an innocent girl killed. Is that what you want?”

  “God no, you're right.” Clyde said. “I just have one last question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What's in it for me?” Clyde asked. “I mean it's great to help someone in distress and all, but I got a family to support and you're talking about a trip that could take a few days depending on the weather. My kid's belly isn't gonna fill itself you know.”

  “I understand.” Hawk said and fished out his wallet. He held up a stack of hundred dollar bills in front of Clyde. “I can pay you $5000 for the trip, and I can give you half now.”

  Clyde sat back considering the proposition for a moment, then saw some more tourists coming and went over and put the chain link in front of the airboat's entrance. “Sorry I'm on lunch,” he told the disappointed tourists then came back and sat down again. “No deal.” He said. “I want $10,000. What you're asking me to do could be very dangerous and there's no one else around here crazy enough to do it besides myself.”

  “Okay, okay.” Hawk said smiling. “$10,000 it is but I don't have that much with me. I can give you half now and the rest tomorrow. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Clyde stuck out his hand and shook Hawk's then Hawk gave him a wad of 100-dollar bills tied together with an elastic band. Clyde counted the money and when he was satisfied it was all there looked up again. “Pleasure doing business with you. I just realized that I don't even know your name.”

  “Simon Hawk.”

  “Hawk...now that's an interesting name. If you don't mind me asking, who told you to come to me?”

  “Reggie, the guy who runs the deli in town.”

  Clyde chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah good 'ol Reg, always sending folks my way. I swear I get more business from that guy than I do from my own radio ads. One more thing though, how do you know we'll find anything out there in that giant green yonder? You do realize that the chances are slim don't you?”

  “I'm aware of that.” Hawk said. “But this is my only solid lead and I need to pursue it. Call it a large hunch but I have a feeling what I'm after is out there somewhere. Everything points to it. And if I'm wrong or we don't find anything then it's not your problem anyway.”

  Clyde's face turned serious for a second. “I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into mister.”

  “I gotta good idea it ain't gonna be no pleasure cruise if that's what you mean.”

  “Far from it. We're going into one of the most inhospitable places in America. I'm talking places so overgrown with sawgrass and palmetto that you'd need a lifetime to hack through it all. And if the Burmese python don't get you, then a thousand crocodiles will want to make you their lunch.”

  Hawk suddenly remembered Wagner mentioning crocodiles. “Are their crocodiles in the Big Cypress area as well? Like a lot of them?”

  “Well yeah, some of the crocs come up from there. And gators too. Crocodiles sometimes like brackish water - or fresh water - and a large chunk of fresh water in the Glades is in Big Cypress. The area's one of the hardest to reach though. I would bring plenty of water and a raincoat if I were you.”

  “And you said Python as well?”

  “Yeah those suckers have been breeding like cockroaches in the Glades for awhile now. Not trying to scare you, just trying to give you an idea what we'll be up against.”

  Hawk looked out at the sawgrass spreading out for miles into the horizon and felt his shirt sticking to his skin like a thick wet blanket. He realized he'd been unconsciously swatting mosquitoes from his face the entire time he'd been talking to Clyde.

  Clyde noticed this and said, “You'd also best get yourself some good bug spray too. The mosquitoes around here will eat you alive, they can smell sweat 50 metres away.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.” Hawk said, scratching at a fresh red bite on his elbow. “So when do we leave?”

  Clyde looked at the sky again, took a breath of the river air into his nostrils. “I'd say we better leave first thing tomorrow morning at 7 am before the crowds start. I need to pick up some supplies for the journey and it looks like we're in for a rainfall soon. You best prepare yourself too, it'll take us the good part of a day to reach Big Cypress if the weather stays clear.” Clyde gestured toward the surrounding swamp with his hand, “and out there it can get pretty rough. Especially in wet season. Be ready.”

  “I'll be ready.” Hawk said and went to leave the boat. “See you tomorrow.”

  9

  Two of the Devil's Syndicate had overturned a wooden crate and were arm wrestling on top. A fat Syndicate with a black cowlick stuck to his sweaty forehead seemed to have the momentum of the match. He held a skinny Syndicate's arm millimetres away from hitting the table. The rest of the Syndicate were gathered around, taking gulps of beer and yelling at the match whenever it seemed to go the other way.

  After a few seconds the skinny Syndicate seemed to recover and with his face all contorted, moved his hand up over the fat man's for a top roll, gaining some ground. After a few more pulls on the fat man's arm, he managed to bring his hand back towards his side of the table, and with a last ounce of strength slammed down the fat man's hand for a victory. He got up, showboated a little and the Syndicate cheered. The fat man was angry though, stood up, shoved the smaller Syndicate into a box of explosives sitting behind them.

  “You cheating bastard!”

  “Bullshit! I won fair and square.”

  Then they got at it, throwing fists left and right and shoving each other against the crates. Byron had been away on an errand with Randall and pulled up outside, heard the commotion going on and rushed in. He saw the fracas, noticed the men were inches away from knocking over a crate of explosives.

  “Everyone shut up!” He yelled over the shouting, his deep voice resonating against the walls like canon-fire. The room went silent and the two men stopped their quarrel. Byron went over, punched the fat man upside the head, then slugged the skinny man in the stomach. Both men recoiled from the sudden assault but made no attempt to defend themselves.

  “You bunch of idiots!” Byron said to the entire room. “Look what you almost did.” He said, placing a hand on the box of explosives sitting precariously on the edge of another crate. “All it would take is this box to fall and then everything we have would have been blown to bits. Next guy who fights gets thrown in the swamp – I'm serious. You guys were supposed to be guarding this stuff. From now on we'll keep everything in the rooms. I want it all moved back there now!”

  The two men nodded and quickly picked up the crates of explosives, began hauling them back to a room in the back. The room stayed quiet and Randall came in with a large cardboard box then Byron said, “Anyways everyone chill out, I got a surprise for you.”

  Byron went over, opened up the box and yanked out a black leather jacket that had the name Devil's Syndicate emblazoned on the back in large red letters. There was another red symbol beneath it of a circle with a line passing through the middle at a slight angle, the same symbol he'd branded into each member of the Syndicate. He had the jackets made by a friend who ran a shop in Miami. “These are our new jackets.” Byron said and everyone in the room lit up. “Put them on.” He flung two at the men who had been fighting as they came back to grab more crates and they both smiled, putting them on.

  “Hey, not bad!” Said the skinny Syndicate looking at the jacket's fit around his shoulders. “Fit's perfect!”

  “I want everyone to wear these from now on when we're here. There's enough for everybody.” He looked over at Stacey Defleur, the sole female member of the group. “I even got an extra small for you as well.”

&n
bsp; “Aww you were thinking of me, how sweet.” She said and puckered her lips jokingly.

  “I did it for the Syndicate.” He said flinging the jacket her way. “I want everyone to be wearing these when I get back.”

  Byron had been considering having custom jackets made for the Syndicate for awhile. At first he was concerned that it would draw extra attention to the members when out in public which was why he decided that the jackets would only be worn when they were here – unless of course it was a special occasion. What that occasion would be hadn't crossed his mind yet although he was sure something would come about eventually.

  They still had to call Harvey Wagner back to set the time and place for the exchange for his daughter and he had decided they would do the exchange at an abandoned runway in the Everglades – a planned airport that was supposed to be the biggest in Florida, but never saw the light of day after the funding fell through. Byron knew the area well, knew that it would be the perfect spot to exchange Dottie for the cash. He had planned on doing the exchange the week before but had deliberated several times until he was sure of the specifics. And now he was. He called his cousin Larry to grab Dottie, told Randall and Travis to get in the van, then they left and headed back to the payphone by the abandoned laundromat on the highway.

  When they got there Byron dialed Harvey Wagner's office line again and Wagner heard the voice on the other line and felt his throat tighten.

  “Yes this is Harvey Wagner speaking.”

  Byron could hear the nervousness in Wagner's voice and it made him feel good. “I guess you know why we're calling don't you."

  “I expect...I expect you want to let me know where to meet you.”

  “You got it old man. We meet in two days, that's Wednesday at 8 in the morning sharp at the old airfield in the Everglades. Drive for an hour West on Interstate 41 until you see a turnoff for 91. Right before the turnoff there's an old road covered with some fallen trees on the right-hand side of the road. Turn in there and drive North for another 20 minutes until the road ends. When you get to where the road ends you'll have to get out and walk in the same direction for another half an hour before you come across the air field. You'll need a flashlight as it'll still be pretty dark. When you get there walk out to the middle of the air field and wait.”