The Devil's Syndicate

by Chris Draper

  When they got to the incline, Hawk shone his flashlight in the bushes, noticed a clearing they could walk through and called Clyde over.

  “How about this way? Looks like someone might have cleared a path here at some point.”

  “Good plan.” Clyde said and they made there way through the clearing deeper into the interior of the glades. Once they were undercover of the trees the wind and rain became less intense, and they focused on finding a spot to pitch a tent and start a fire. Hawk was looking around but saw only greenery. His eyes started playing tricks on him and twice he thought he saw a python coiled up on the ground, only to look again and see it was just a tree branch being blown by the wind.

  They walked a bit further and Clyde pointed toward a rocky hill and said, “I think I see something up there in those bushes,” so they made their way in that direction. When they got to the hill Hawk saw what Clyde had been pointing at: a small cave was cut into the side of the hill partly overgrown with thick vines.

  “Good eye.” He said to Clyde. “I never would have noticed that.”

  “I almost didn't myself.” He said. “Better let me check it out first. Never know what could be living in these caves this far out.”

  Clyde ducked into the cave and Hawk waited outside a minute, two minutes, thought about going in after him when he heard something move and saw Clyde emerge from the cave.

  “Looks clear to me.” He said gesturing for Hawk to follow him inside. “Wanted to check the plants in there first, the glades have a plant called Machineel that's one of the most dangerous in the world. Wouldn't want us to stumble into some of that.”

  Hawk followed Clyde inside, shining his flashlight around. “Home sweet home.” He said with a smile.

  The cave was small and clammy but was relatively clear of vegetation. Clyde said it might have been a nesting ground for the Florida bonneted bat at one point but that it looked to be vacant for some time. He took out a small can of paraffin from a bag in his hand and with a match and some dry branches struck up a small fire in the centre of the cave. The warmth felt good and Hawk moved in closer, drying his wet hair and face.

  They brought over some large rocks that were scattered around and sat down across the fire. Hawk was anxious to keep going but heard thunderclaps outside and knew it wouldn't be safe to continue searching for Dottie in this weather. He'd have to chance it and hope the storm would clear out before tomorrow. He knew it would be better than trying to drive through it and maybe not reach her at all. He took out a sandwich from his pack and started eating it with a bottle of water. Clyde took out a thermos of coffee and sipped from it while staring blankly into the flames. Hawk looked at Clyde, almost felt sorry for bringing him along. He looked like a drowned sewer rat in his drenched coveralls and white t-shirt that clung to his body. He looked over at Hawk and took a sip from his thermos.

  “So these guys you think took that girl, how dangerous are they you figure?”

  “I think they're professionals.” Hawk said. “Everything points that way. Why else would they hide out in this part of the world?”

  “That's true.” Clyde said and stared into the fire. His eyes had a distant look like he was thinking about something intently. Hawk had seen that look before. It was the worried look he used to see in the faces of prisoners whenever he visited a penitentiary to question a convict. Years ago back when he still did that sort of thing. But out here it seemed out of place, sort of like a look that couldn't exist anywhere outside of 10-foot thick concrete wall.

  “Something wrong?” Hawk asked. “You know it's not too late to back out now if you want, I'd completely understand. I would only ask you to leave me the airboat for which I'd pay you for as well as some directions to follow. I know you have a family to care for back there and this is a tall order to ask of anyone.”

  Clyde finished the last drop of liquid from his thermos then wiped his mouth on his arm and put the thermos back in his bag. He looked over at Hawk and the worried expression had faded, replaced with that wide grin. “Yeah and what kind of tour guide would I be if I just got up and left you out here on your own? I'm okay. Guess it all just hit me for a second, the fact that we could be facing something serious when we find these guys. But that's alright, I always had a soft spot for adventure which is why I guess I got into this business in the first place. I just need you to understand one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “If at any point along this journey I feel I have to turn back, I'd need you to understand it'd be no hard feelings. I'd give you your money back and everything, but I just don't know how far I can take this yet.”

  “You gotta do what you gotta do.” Hawk said appreciably. “And the money's yours, regardless of how far you take me.”

  Clyde nodded. “Thanks for understanding. Lord knows I need it. That house I got back there, the power goes out half the time and the missus and I, well we've got in more than a few fights about us getting a better place. Money's tight in these parts you know, 'specially after tourist season ends.”

  “No need to explain, we all gotta earn a living somehow.”

  Clyde agreed then asked, “You got a family as well?”

  The question caught Hawk off guard. It always did. He knew that people meant well when they asked the question but for some reason he felt others couldn't truly empathize with what he had been through. He never liked bringing up the family thing as it was such a complex issue and he didn't like putting people in the awkward situation of hearing his past. So it was usually better to acknowledge that he did indeed have a family and leave it at that. If people wanted more specifics than he would cut the conversation short. It was only with those in his immediate circle that he would grant any additional bits of information and even then he was usually less than totally forthright.

  “Yeah I got a family, back in California,” Hawk said changing the subject. “Look when I spoke with Harvey Wagner on the phone today he said that the kidnappers wanted to meet at an abandoned air field. Do you know anything about this place?”

  “Place has been abandoned for decades.” Clyde said. “Ain't nothing there now but a bunch of grown in towers and a cracked old landing strip. But I guess if privacy is what they're after then you won't find much better around the area.”

  “Do you think they could be hiding Dottie somewhere around there?”

  Clyde shook his head. “No, I don't think so. That area's patrolled sometimes during the day by rangers and there's a highway not too far from there. You mentioned that one of the kidnappers told Wagner that if he didn't get the money soon enough he'd feed Dottie to some crocodiles, I find that pretty specific to the Big Cypress area. I think that's still our best bet.”

  “Okay just wanted to be sure.” Hawk said. “Thanks again for doing this Clyde.”

  “Anytime.”

  They each settled back and listened to the rain pounding the trees outside. Hawk was tired from the ride and eventually dozed off for a bit, then came to with a start and saw it was dark around him. He was confused for a second about where he was, then remembered about the cave and relaxed a little. He took out his flashlight and shone it around: the fire had gone out and Clyde had fallen asleep on the ground nearby, his loud snores the only sound Hawk could hear. He got up, went to the opening of the cave and peered outside. The rain had died down and was now just a drizzle pit patting gently against the trees like small footsteps.

  Hawk checked his wrist watch: 11 PM. He had slept for 7 hours and felt wide awake. He stretched out and stepped outside the cave, walked face first into a large spider web and slashed it away with his hand. Outside the impenetrable darkness made him feel like he was trapped inside a black hole. The forest was alive at night with the sounds of creatures scurrying underfoot and the cacophony of insects rustling unseen in the darkness. He heard something shuffle past the ground near his feet and saw a frog hop past and disappear into the undergrowth.

  He walked a little further to a clearing of trees and lo
oked up at the sky. In the Northern Hemisphere, the centre of the Milky Way was low and the glowing band swept upward in an arch across the East. There was a half moon partly obscured by clouds and it cast a glow over the trees around him. He heard an owl call somewhere closeby but couldn't see where it was. The forest had a scent of freshly fallen rain that reminded him of home and his early morning jogs along the pier. He felt mosquitoes landing on his arm and went back in to retrieve his bug spray, quickly covering it all over his arms and legs. It felt sticky as it blended with the sweat and Hawk found himself wishing he had access to a shower.

  He smiled to himself, wondering what Helen would say to him now if she could see where he was. He remembered the last time he'd been like this, out in the wild exposed to the elements. It had been on a camping trip to the Adirondacks 5 years ago with some pals where they'd spent a weekend fishing and drinking under the stars. He laid back down on the ground remembering, closed his eyes and eventually sleep came to him. He had a peaceful rest and didn't wake up again until morning when he heard a man's voice yelling from outside.

  11

  Three of the Syndicate were in downtown Fort Lauderdale.

  Randall was there with two of the younger Syndicate, Rafael and Chuck. It was after midnight and they were out on the street riding around, making sure the Syndicate supply was good. Making sure their dealers were getting enough of their product out to the masses. Making sure everything was running smoothly to report back to Byron.

  The Syndicate had agreements made with several small-time dealers around the state that they would each get a generous monthly cut if they helped sell off the product to the public. Byron didn't want himself or any of the Syndicate directly involved in case a deal went sour and police got involved. No, he knew it was much safer to be in the background delivering the product and receiving the rewards rather than being out there himself. And so far the arrangement had worked out nicely to the mutual benefit of all parties involved.

  They stopped at a strip club on 4th street and East Broward, checked in with a dealer there named Leonard who worked the area – business was good he said as he handed Randall a bag stuffed full of cash. Then they drove a bit further East to a pawn shop that acted as a front for a drug running operation in the back. Randall asked if things had been good and the old man behind the counter said things had been very good as he handed him an envelope packed with a hundred dollar bills. Cocaine had been hitting the streets like they had never seen and the demand for a good product had been growing. Byron had no problem pushing the stuff so long as none of the Syndicate members got hooked on it, then there would be problems. But so far every member of the Syndicate had stayed true to their word and hadn't touched an ounce.

  They revved up their Harleys, pulled off onto East Sunrise Blvd passing all of the clubs, late night diners and movie theatres, heading West to the highway when Randall remembered they had to check one last spot. They made a detour and within a few minutes were parking their bikes in front of a closed drug store. Underneath the drug store was an after hours known as the Pharmacy that was run by three street members of the Syndicate. The place was also a Syndicate hangout and a funnel for Syndicate supply going out to the customer. If you wanted something, all you had to do was be in the know. You would show up at the after hours, ask for the right person at the right time, and you'd be able to buy drugs, guns, or Syndicate services including murder-for-hire, robbery, and extortion.

  At 1 am on a weeknight in the summer the place was jammed with tourists, gangbangers, corporate snobs and just about anyone else who wanted to get drugs that time of night. The place was dark, smokey, and drinks were always double the regular bar price. A poker game was going on at a table nearby as Randall entered with Rafael and Chuck and a large man with a handlebar moustache and shifty eyes nodded at him when he came in, stood up from the poker game and disappeared into a back room. Randall and company followed him into the back where they were embraced by the large man and two of his friends that were sitting at a table chugging from a pitcher of beer. They clasped hands and patted backs and asked if things were good with each other and after the brief formality got down to business and Randall asked of any news. The large man gave him an envelope that contained some of the earnings from the club the past month as well as the earnings from the drugs and guns sold. Randall then asked if anyone had come in to ask about services, and the large man gave him a list of names and contacts. After 10 minutes of discussing other current affairs the Syndicate left and went back out to fetch their motorcycles parked on the street.

  They headed back in the direction of the highway and drove a few minutes when Randall passed a man on the street he recognized. He was a member of the Syndicate rival gang El Hombrez in an area of the city where he didn't belong: a neighborhood in Syndicate territory. The man's name was Anthony Morello and he was selling something to some teenagers. Randall nodded to the others and they pulled off to the curb near Morello, parked their bikes, and walked over. When the teenagers saw them coming they bolted off.

  Anthony Morello was leaned against the side of a brown brick apartment complex next to a dark alleyway and casually lit a cigarette. He had a small build with short spikey dark hair and a slight scar on the side of his face.

  Randall got up close to him, said, “You know you're not supposed to be here dude. Tell you what, I'll give you a head start. Get on your bike and get the hell out of here while you still can.”

  Morello coolly took a drag of the cigarette between his fingers. “Hey you don't own the entire city hombre. If I want to hang out on this corner then I don't see the problem okay. After all, one corner's as good as the next right?”

  Something fell over in the dark alleyway behind them and Randall looked over, tried to see back there but could only see more darkness.

  “You got company?” Randall asked nodding his head toward the dark alley. “Anybody else back there we should know about?”

  “No I'm here all alone man.” Morello said smiling. “You're just being paranoid bro.”

  And that was when Randall could tell it was a setup. Maybe it was something about the way Morello looked back into the dark alley for a second, or maybe it was the sound of some garbage cans falling over somewhere, but a second later four other El Hombrez came out of the alleyway holding shotguns and baseball bats. They had got the message Byron had sent a few days earlier when he'd shown up and destroyed the school bus and were now giving them an answer. Randall could see it in their faces, the collective anger and thirst for blood. He had seen it before riding with other gangs, could feel the energy flowing from the El Hombrez.

  “So who's corner is it now?” Morello said grinning. “I think you overstepped your territory bro. You better leave now or we gonna give you some real trouble.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Randall said. “When Byron finds out about this he'll string you guys up by the balls.”

  “No this is how it's gonna be,” Morello stood up to Randall who was a foot taller than him, pointing his finger in his face. “You guys have been taking away one too many neighbourhoods for too long. From now on we fight for what is ours.”

  “So be it then.” Randall said taking a step back and feeling behind him for a garbage can he'd seen earlier. When he felt it there he quickly threw it down in front of him distracting the El Hombrez, then pulled out a handgun from his jacket and fired off a few rounds. The El Hombrez scattered backwards and let off a few rounds as well and Chuck and Rafael from the Syndicate ran in opposite directions.

  The skirmish was quick and brutal and lights went in in the apartment complex nearby. After a minute of exchanging gunfire Rafael lay dead as was Morello and two other El Hombrez. Chuck had been hit with a bullet in his lung and lay on the street dying, clutching his chest in agony, writhing on the cold ground. Someone had called the police and sirens were heard in the distance. Randall knew he had to get going or he'd be trapped. He clasped one of Chuck's hands, said “Keep the dirty side down br
other” and they both knew he was a goner, then hopped on his bike and kicked up a cloud of dust as he roared off down the street toward the highway. The remaining two El Hombrez fled back into the alleyway and in another 30 seconds roared out on their bikes and disappeared in a different direction. When the police arrived, witnesses came out of the building and told them what they'd seen and heard. Some paramedics arrived and wrote Chuck off, covering his body as well as the rest of the dead, and then the news teams swarmed in. The area was punctured with flashing lights, forensic vans and frenzied activity.

  Randall flashed down the highway in the darkness and got back to the Syndicate compound in the early hours of the morning. He burst in and the place was silent – everyone was asleep. He woke up Byron first, told him what had happened, and Byron woke up everyone else in the compound and ordered them to meet him in the main room. Several Syndicate asked each other what was going on as they rushed into the main room and saw Byron standing with his arms crossed, looking pissed. After the room had quieted down a bit, he spoke slowly but seriously. Making eye contact with all of them.

  “Listen up everyone.” He said. “As you know Randall went out earlier tonight with Chuck and Rafael to scope out our monthly earnings from the clubs and dealers. Well, some shit went down and Chuck and Rafael were killed.” A few gasps were heard from the room and everyone started talking again at once. Byron waited a second then cut in and his loud voice boomed across the room.

  “That's enough!” Byron bellowed and the room got quiet again. “The El Hombrez ambushed them in one of our areas in Fort Lauderdale. Randall said they were selling drugs on one of our corners and when he told the guy to get lost, some other Hombrez came out and started shooting.”