The Romen Society

by Henry Hack

  “Can we trust the motherfucker?” Nick said.

  “Do we have a choice?” McKee responded.

  “This is going down way too fast for us to discover the location of our kids in time to rescue them,” Walt said.

  “And since the kids are our number one priority,” Harry said, “we’d better get going. We’ll try to think of something to save our own asses on the way out to Denver.”

  “There may be one thing,” Danny Boyland said. “When you get on that plane the rest of us will get on another one and pay a visit to the Reverend Alton Phineas in Cody, Wyoming. Maybe the Apostle is there. Maybe your kids are there.”

  “I could get the Denver office to go,” Kobak said.

  “It’s too long a drive,” Lizzy said. “We’ll get there before them. Don’t forget that’s my kid sister that bastard has tied up out there.”

  “Okay, let’s move,” Harry said noting the determination in his older daughter’s voice.

  Peter and Wilt strolled into the windowless room where the four captive children sat bound in their chairs. Peter looked at the two masked men guarding them and said, “The TV feed is off, you can remove your masks and leave the room. I believe lunch is being prepared. When you finish eating would you kindly bring in a plate of food for each of our prisoners?”

  After the two guards left Peter said, “I am the Apostle Peter and this is my Disciple Wilt. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. Let me explain why you’re here and how your release will be accomplished.”

  When Peter finished he went over to the children and said, “I’m going to remove your gags. I’m sure you have questions. However, I want no screaming or cursing at me. That will be non-productive. Can you all be civil?”

  They all nodded their heads and Wilt and Peter carefully removed the gags. Patty Cassidy school teacher, age twenty-four, and college student Kent Kobak, age twenty, were experienced enough to know they were dealing with a fanatic who could never be persuaded to change his views. They wisely said nothing. Roseanne Faliani, age ten, a clone of her tough, fiery mother, Teresa, immediately said, “When my father gets here he’ll take care of you two jerks.”

  Peter and Wilt laughed and Wilt said, “When your father gets here, he’ll be in your seat – at least for a little while.”

  “You probably think our fathers were the bad guys for killing your friend. But the Savior was a murdering psycho and so are you,” said Kevin McKee, a seventeen-year old high school junior.

  “I see your fathers have brainwashed you. You are so misinformed,” Wilt said.

  “What’s your take on this, young Mr. Kobak?” Peter asked.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how it goes,” he said, “but my dad doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “Ah, but he does so deserve it,” Peter said. “And so does your evil father, Miss Cassidy.”

  “Of course I disagree with your opinion of my Dad, but I have a question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “If you’re going to let us go why are you letting us see your faces now?”

  “Excellent question! Who will dare come after the Romens after we accomplish this mission? They’ll all be afraid we’ll do the same thing to their children as we are doing now. But, aside from that, I believe it’s time Wilt and I change our appearance once more – right after we kill all your fathers.”

  Roseanne Faliani almost shouted out in her ingrained New York City vernacular, “Fuck you, asshole!” but thought better of it. The door opened and the two New Viking guards came in with a tray of sandwiches for them. Their chairs were placed around a square table and their hands unfastened, and Peter and Wilt left the room. They ate and drank in silence. When they were finished one of the guards asked, “Does anyone need to use the bathroom?”

  Both Kevin McKee and Roseanne Faliani said, “I do.” The guard unfastened Roseanne from the chair and said, “In there,” pointing at a door in a corner of the room. “Keep the door half-open and be quick about it.”

  When Kevin was allowed to go, one guard stood just outside the door and said, “After you zip up and wash your hands, put them behind your back so I can re-cuff you.”

  As the lunch process unfolded followed by the bathroom process, Kent Kobak opened his mind to take in every possible detail. He had already noticed the two guards and the Apostle and Disciple had a military-style web belt on. On the right side was a holster with a nine millimeter pistol in it; on the left side was a leather scabbard containing a long dagger that had a beautiful chrome and black handle with the New Vikings symbols etched in gold.

  Kent had listened carefully to the Apostle’s plan and could find no flaws in it. The first-string middle linebacker from Penn State, with a straight A average in psychology, knew that all four fathers would exchange themselves for their children and then be killed. Kent Kobak would live and his Dad would die. This was unacceptable and Kent knew only he and the other children could stop it from happening. But how? He had not figured that out yet, but he would. He had to. And he knew he had to figure it out soon.

  30

  They didn’t know who would be called first, so they were forced to wait in their individual rooms at the Denver Downtown Marriott. At 1:30 p.m. the phone in Harry’s room rang and a voice said, “Meet Kobak downstairs in the lobby, then both of you leave the front door of the hotel and make a left. Halfway down the block you will see a four-door black SUV. Both of you get in the back seat. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Harry said. As soon as he hung up, he dialed John McKee’s room and told him what was up.

  “Good luck, partner,” he said. “I’ll tell Nick. I guess we’ll be next.”

  When Harry and Walt entered the back seat of the SUV a New Viking slid in next to them. Two more Vikings occupied the driver’s and front passenger seat. The passenger turned around as the driver started the vehicle. He said, “I know you’re coming with us because you have to, but my friend in the back with you is going to handcuff you two just to be on the safe side. Okay?”

  “We’re not planning to escape,” Walt said.

  “As I said – a precaution. He’ll put them on loosely in the front. Your two other buddies will follow us in fifteen minutes.”

  “Where are we going? Harry asked.

  “To a location to await word from the Apostle, Commissioner.”

  “Commissioner?”

  “Yeah,” the Viking said. “I got a cousin on the NYMPD who remembers you when you were the PC there. Says you were a pretty decent boss.”

  Seizing on this small compliment Harry said, “Tell your cousin thanks for the kind words. Would his opinion of me change your mind with what you’re doing for the Apostle? He is a murdering bastard you know. Maybe you can help us out here.”

  “Not a chance, Cassidy,” the driver replied. “We don’t care what the Apostle is up to. He pays us well. We never had it so good, and we ain’t changing a thing.”

  “But he’s got our kids,” Walt said. “Even you guys must know that’s way over the line.”

  “He’s going to let them go,” the passenger said. “He only wants to settle the score with you guys, and that’s fine with me. Now let’s cut the chatter. It ain’t gonna help.”

  They headed north on I-25 and crossed out of Colorado into Wyoming. Halfway through the state they stopped around Casper for some cheeseburgers and fries. The passenger went into the Burger King and came out with two big bags of food and drinks which they ate in the parking lot. Both Harry and Walt didn’t have much of an appetite, but decided to take the nourishment offered just in case some unforeseen opportunity might later arise. One by one the three New Vikings entered the restaurant to use the restroom. When they were all back and ready to move out, the driver said, “If you guys gotta pee we’ll stop off the highway somewhere. Just let me know when, okay?”

  Walt and Harry nodded and Walt said, “I think we can pay you guys a lot more dough than the Apostle is giving you.”

  “Yeah?” the driver asked
. “How much, and what do you want us to do for it?”

  “There are three more of you bringing our other two guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fifty-thousand each after the six of you join forces with us four to take down everybody at the place where our kids are being held.”

  “Tempting, Kobak, but no deal. All the six of us have in the way of firearms is a nine millimeter each. The guys at the place where we are going have automatic weapons and shotguns.”

  Speaking for the first time the Viking in the back seat with them said, “And we would never turn on our fellow warriors and leaders no matter how much money you dangle in front of our noses. Now why don’t we all just shut the fuck up for the rest of the trip?”

  The SUV crossed out of Wyoming into Montana and got off the interstate after an hour. Forty minutes later they pulled onto a dirt road and ten minutes after that pulled up in front of a small mountain cabin. “Let’s go,” the driver said and they all followed him inside. Twenty minutes later a second black SUV arrived and John and Nick entered the cabin with their Viking escorts.

  One of the Vikings took a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. When the call was answered he said, “Peter, we are all here.”

  “Excellent! The Apostle said. “Bring Cassidy here now.”

  As one SUV carrying Harry Cassidy and two New Vikings proceeded to the Slate Hills chalet, the remaining seven Task Force members were speeding in a rented van toward Cody, Wyoming. When they pulled up in front of the main church, Danny Boyland and Mike Morra got out to attempt to locate the Reverend Alton Phineas. The group had chosen these two figuring it would not be wise to send an African-American - George, Spider or Alicia – or a Latino – Joe Ramos. Lizzy Cassidy was ruled out – despite her loud protest – because of her personal involvement in the situation.

  Mike and Danny were received cordially and within ten minutes were seated in a room that appeared to be a conference center. The Reverend Alton Phineas accompanied by two well-dressed men, obviously his bodyguards, entered the room and introduced himself. He then said, “What can I do for you fine officers? I hope none of my flock has transgressed the law.”

  “We’ll get right to the point, Reverend,” Mike Morra said. Time is not on our side.”

  The Reverend raised his eyebrows and said, “Go on.”

  They explained the whole kidnapping situation leaving nothing out. Danny concluded saying, “So, Reverend, what we have to do is locate the Apostle before he starts killing our fellow Task Force members.”

  “And we need your help in doing so,” Mike said.

  “But how can I possibly help you? What makes you think I know of this Apostle?”

  “We believe the Apostle and his Disciple live inside your compound, specifically in the building with the satellite dishes on it,” Danny said.

  “Will you help us, Reverend?” Mike asked. “Will you allow us to search that house in the hope we may find out the location of the Apostle?”

  Alton Phineas was momentarily stunned and at a loss for words, not knowing what to do. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Do you have a search warrant?”

  “No,” Danny said. “We don’t have sufficient proof he lives there.”

  “And you don’t have sufficient proof because the Apostle does not live there. I do not know the Apostle and would never associate myself with a murderer such as him. That building only serves as my church’s communications center.”

  “Then you wouldn’t mind if we took a look then?” Mike asked.

  “There would be nothing for you to find. Of course, if you return with a warrant, I’ll be happy to provide you with access. Is there anything else gentlemen?”

  “No, Reverend,” Danny said. “We’ll be on our way now.”

  “I’m happy you are not associated with the Apostle,” Mike said. “If that partnership became public, I believe your church and all you worked for, and you personally, would go up in flames.”

  After the two agents left, the Reverend Alton Phineas went back to his home and poured himself a glass of scotch. Peter had abducted four children and was now about to kill their fathers? Could this possibly be true? He had been upset over the twelve agents killed in the cabin explosion, but Peter for the most part, had justified it to him. But this? The Reverend drank down the rest of the scotch and headed out the door toward the Apostle’s house. Mike Morra’s parting words repeated themselves in his brain. Maybe it was time to cut the cord with the Apostle Peter and the Disciple Wilt.

  Kent Kobak knew the time for action was getting close – close to the clichéd now or never time. Earlier in the day there had been much activity and he had heard a few cars start up and leave. Their two guards for this day had not worn masks and addressed each other as Ron and Ed. At one point, a comment by the Disciple led Kent to conclude Ron and Ed were the leaders of the New Vikings.

  At a few minutes after six, the Apostle and his Disciple came into the room and said to Ron and Ed, “We just finished a nice meatloaf dinner and yours is ready. When you finish will you kindly bring a portion in for our four friends here? Make it a good-sized portion – this will be their last meal with us.”

  During their long hours of captivity Kent had also sized-up his fellow prisoners, evaluating them on their physical strength and mental preparedness. Do they have the guts to kill their captives? Patty Cassidy was a young, pretty woman and the model of the prim and proper school teacher. He remembered her from a Task Force party several years back. He was about fourteen and was smitten by the eighteen year old beauty, but of course, the age difference precluded anything beyond a teenage fantasy. Pretty and proper, and no doubt totally useless in a physical confrontation.

  Roseanne Faliani seemed feisty and tough, but she was only a kid. No help there at all. He pinned his hopes on the other male, Kevin McKee. He was lean and wiry, but could he fight? The bottom line, he concluded, was if they were going to get out this and save their father’s lives, it was mainly up to him.

  The Apostle took off their gags in preparation for the forthcoming meal. He said, “It won't be long now children. I anticipate the first of your fathers will be here in an hour or two. That would be your father, Patty. I am looking forward to killing him first.”

  “You bastard,” Patty said. “He’s a good man.”

  “No, Patty, as I told you before, he’s a bad man. I’m still pondering how I will kill him, and what kind of torture I will employ first.”

  “At least give them a quick death,” Kent Kobak said. “They didn’t torture the Savior, did they?”

  “No, they didn’t, but they tortured me with their attacks on the Romens. I will shortly return the favor.”

  If any doubts remained in Kent Kobak’s mind as to his ability to kill this maniac, the last words by Peter erased those doubts. Kent said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  The Disciple Wilt, who had been handed an automatic weapon by Ed as Ed and Ron left for the kitchen, slung it over his shoulder and walked over to Kent’s chair and freed him from his handcuffs and leg restraints. Walking to the bathroom with the Disciple behind him, Kent’s mind raced furiously trying to figure out how to take out both the Disciple and the Apostle without them yelling for help or with him getting killed in the process.

  As they approached the bathroom, the door of the room opened and Ed said, “Peter, the guys from the cabin are on the phone.”

  The Apostle left and Kent entered the bathroom and began to unbuckle his pants. The Disciple said, “You have to take a dump?”

  “Yes,” Kent said, dropping his pants and sitting on the toilet bowl.

  “Make it fast,” Wilt said, turning away and closing the door almost all the way.

  Now or never. Kent stood up and buckled his pants. He took a deep breath, and visualizing a tackling dummy on the Nittany Lions’ practice field, he hit bathroom door in one violent burst. Wilt fell to the ground, stunned. Kent was on him immediately. He put his knee on the Disciple
’s back and grabbed his head in his muscular arms. He twisted hard and heard the Disciple’s neck snap. To make sure, he applied a choke hold to his neck and squeezed until he was certain not an ounce of breath remained in the Disciple’s body.

  Kent removed the knife and gun from Wilt’s belt and dragged him, and the automatic weapon, into the bathroom. He propped the body on the toilet bowl and closed the door. With his finger to his lips he cut the others free, but then had to go back into the bathroom to retrieve the handcuff keys from Wilt’s pocket. After uncuffing them all he just about got back to his chair when the Apostle returned. “That phone call was good news, children,” he said. “Your daddy’s on the way, pretty Patty. Soon you will be free, and he will be dead.”

  Kent knew they would have to take out the Apostle quietly. Even though he had the Disciple’s pistol, a gunshot would bring Ron and Ed running and they would lose the element of surprise. And he had no idea how to use the Uzi-type weapon he had left in the bathroom, figuring he’d probably kill all of them with that thing.

  “Hey,” Peter said, “where’s my Disciple?”

  “In the bathroom,” Kent said.

  As the Apostle walked toward the bathroom they all leaped out of their chairs and went for him. Peter hit the floor with all of them punching and kicking at his body. Kent had the Disciple’s knife out and was trying to expose the Apostle’s throat when an arm swung by him. In the hand of that arm, belonging to Patty Cassidy, was a shoe with a three-inch stiletto heel attached to it. “You motherfucker,” she whispered. “Kill my father? I don’t think so.”

  Patty struck the bald head of the Apostle repeatedly leaving several deep punctures in his brain, any one of which could have killed him. As she prepared to swing once more, Kent caught her arm and said, “Enough, Patty. Save some of that for the two Vikings.”

  Kent put the knife under his chair with the Disciple’s gun. He gave the Apostle’s knife to Patty and his gun to Kevin. “It’s cocked and un-locked.” he said. “All you have to do is point and pull the trigger. I’ll shoot the first one through the door, you shoot the second.”