Shake the Trees

by Rod Helmers

  Governor Lord looked to the rest of the members. “Is that the way it’s going to be then?” A few nodded affirmatively. The rest looked away or down at some invisible speck on the table.

  “Very well,” the Governor said glumly. An expression that his usually cheerful countenance carried reluctantly. “There is another matter I need to bring to your attention.”

  Chairman Sterling slyly eyed the Governor. “Is that so.”

  “Yes, Rutherford, it is. As you are all well aware, the Florida Bar is a self-governing organization. We are the judge and jury of ourselves. We decide what is ethical and what isn’t. And we decide on the discipline to be meted out to ourselves. Some people feel that amounts to the fox guarding the chicken coop. I have been asked to support a bill that removes that power from the Bar, and places it with a panel of elected citizenry.”

  “You son of a bitch. You god-damned traitor.” Rutherford Sterling nearly screamed the words; all the while his face continued to redden until it looked as if his head might explode at any moment.

  “I hope you don’t plan on running for re-election, Lord. Or even for goddamned dogcatcher. The Florida Bar can be a valuable source of campaign funds, or it can be a powerful enemy. Governor.” Sterling pronounced the final word with the most scathing tone of pure hatred he could muster.

  Governor Lord looked to the rest of the panel and spoke earnestly. And with a charismatic laser beam of attention that each person thought was directed solely at him or her. “I don’t think any of you truly understand me. But I want to explain myself. You see, none of that is of importance to me.” The Governor nodded at Sterling before continuing.

  “The only thing that is important to me is doing the job I was elected to do; doing it the best way I know how. And part of that job is to speak for those citizens of this great State who are unable to speak for themselves. That’s the best part of the job. And that I will always do. No matter the consequences.”

  Chairman Sterling shook his head, which was now heart attack red and capped with a still perfect white mane. “I always said I could negotiate with anyone. Except for a damn crazy person. When do you make your decision, Lord?”

  “I have a press conference set for Friday morning regarding the American Senior Security matter. At the Gracious Living Retreat in Venice. I will make my decision regarding the bar governance and disciplinary bill by 5:00 p.m. Thursday.”

  “We’ll let you know,” Sterling growled.

  Governor Lord stood and produced his trademark smile. “Please stay seated. Ya’ll have a wonderful day.”

  It was after 1:00 p.m. Tuesday afternoon when Sally arrived at FDLE headquarters in Orlando. Her stomach was growling. She wanted ribs - sweet and smoky ribs at her favorite local hangout. And a cold beer. But she first needed to find out what was going on with the fingerprints. She rushed through the building and into the computer forensics lab, where the supervisor grimaced as she entered.

  “John, do you know what the status is on my prints?

  “The run is complete. No matches.”

  Sally was crestfallen, and began to turn away. But stopped. “What data bases did you compare against?”

  “All the criminal data bases. No matches.”

  “What about the rest! Professional licenses. Passports, for god’s sake. John, I asked for a run against all data bases.”

  “That takes a lot of computing time. You need to get in line. We’ll get to it eventually.” The lab supervisor snapped.

  “What the hell? I told you this was a priority case!” Sally exclaimed.

  “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but you sure have been acting high and mighty. You’re a rookie for god’s sakes. Pretty far down on the totem pole. Live with it. Like I said, we’ll get to it eventually. Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

  Sally turned away. She didn’t trust herself to speak. After leaving the building, she sat in her car drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. It ran against the grain to ask Tillis for his help, but she had no choice. She reached for her cell and stabbed the button.

  “Where are you?” Tillis asked.

  “Sitting in my car in front of FDLE Orlando.”

  “Welcome home.”

  “Bad choice of words.” Sally explained to Tillis what had just happened. “Word on the street is that you might have some pull with the people upstairs.”

  “I’ll have my Ron give your John a call.”

  “That ought to make me popular around here.”

  “You can be popular. Or you can be good. Your choice.” Tillis remarked airily.

  “Make the call.” Sally barked.

  “God, you’re a pushy broad.” Tillis laughed.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “As it was intended.”

  “Thanks. I guess.” Sally grudgingly replied.

  “What are you doing now?” Tillis asked nonchalantly.

  “I’m going to get some lunch. I’m starving.”

  “Then what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Let my parents know I’m still alive. Throw out my dead plants. I’ll think of something.”

  Tillis let a few moments of silence pass before he spoke again. “Don’t make any plans for this evening. And I’m going to need you to pick up a few things later this afternoon.”

  “Like what?” Sally inquired with notes of caution and reluctance.

  “You’re invited to a working dinner at my condo around six. I’d appreciate it if you would pick up a couple of pizzas on your way over. Or whatever sounds good. Oh, but no barbeque. The Mouth doesn’t like barbeque. Can you believe that?”

  “Jefferson Davis Brown is going to be there?” Sally’s tone brightened.

  “Yes.” Tillis’ voice was full of displeasure. “It will just be the three of us.”

  “About that delivery you had me make this morning.” Sally began winding up for the pitch.

  “Gotta go, Sally. I need to call Ron.” Tillis interrupted.

  “Hold on.” Sally interjected. “I maxed out my card on the South Beach expedition and the plane ticket back to Tampa. Until I get reimbursed, I won’t be buying dog food, much less pizza.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave my card with the doorman downstairs. See you at six.” Tillis ended the call.

  Sally looked out the window of her car and smiled. “That was a very silly thing to do, Elmer.”

  Tillis ended his call with Sally and punched up the Governor.

  “Are you calling to gloat?” Governor Lord answered.

  “I was going to ask how it went with the Board of Governors, but I guess it went as I predicted.”

  “Exactly. But I still prefer to expect the best out of my fellow man. Until I’m proven wrong.”

  “Really?” Tillis replied skeptically. “Cynicism and low expectations have always worked well for me. Did you play the trump card?”

  “I was left with no choice.”

  “And how do you really feel about the proposed legislation?”

  “I think it’s a terrible bill. The Bar does a tremendous job of disciplining its members. First of all, they’re harder on their own than anyone else would be. Secondly, the issues are often complex and require legal training. And, finally, no taxpayer money is expended on the process. It’s a good system.” Governor Lord explained.

  “So, it was a bluff?” Tillis chuckled.

  “Totally. And it’s bothering me. I hate being disingenuous. It’s not my nature.”

  “That reminds me of the story about the frog and the scorpion.” Tillis replied thoughtfully.

  “What?”

  “The frog and the scorpion. You see, the scorpion couldn’t swim and asked the frog for a ride across the pond. The frog declined, pointing out that the scorpion might sting him and then he would die. The scorpion responded that the frog’s concern was ridiculous, because then the frog would drown and they would both die. The frog thought about it and recognized the sc
orpion’s logic, and told the scorpion to hop on. Halfway across the pond the scorpion stung the frog. Before he died, the frog turned to the scorpion and asked him why he’d stung him, because now they were both going to die. The scorpion replied that he couldn’t help it. It was his nature.”

  “What’s your point, Tillis?” Lord asked gruffly.

  “Sometimes we must act contrary to our nature. To survive. In this case, so that others may survive.”

  “You compared me to a scorpion.” Lord replied without emotion.

  “Well, you are a politician. And a lawyer.”

  CHAPTER 35

  James Mason sat in the car he’d rented in Miami and then driven to The Lakes in West Palm Beach. The GPS tracking device he’d purchased was installed and well hidden under the dash, and he was now waiting for the 5:00 p.m. shift change, when hurried confusion would cloud employee memories of his visit.

  Hopefully Marc would check himself out of the facility after his visit, and leave a trail he could follow to the money. James knew that his plan depended on tact and emotional manipulation. As had always been the case with Marc, force and intimidation would be counterproductive and produce a backlash of anger and resentment.

  After he adjusted the seatback of the small sedan to a more comfortable position, James opened the sunroof and took in the intense but pleasant perfume of the lush subtropical jungle that surrounded the parking lot. It reminded him of his own backyard, and he let his mind wander to a time when his children were young.

  His daughters so obviously had Mason blood flowing through their veins, but Marc, or Jimmy as everyone called him then, was different. He’d suspected Lorna of having affairs, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this difficult child was his own. While he’d tried to push those suspicions to the deep corners of his mind, they were always there, and he knew that he’d treated Jimmy differently because of them.

  After mail-in paternity tests became available, and after Jimmy had become an adult, after he’d become Marc, James had surreptitiously obtained the requisite DNA sample. Twice. The first test was inconclusive, showing only some common genetic markers. The results of the second test confirmed what he’d always known. Jimmy was not his son. Not a Mason. He was not entitled to the fruit of the legacy created by his grandfather. Not by virtue of his blood, and certainly not by virtue of his ability or character.

  When the phone buzzed, Marc was on top of the housekeeper, pounding her deep into the mattress with more vigor and energy than he’d had in years. He ignored the sound. Soon there was a tapping at his door.

  Marc didn’t slacken his frenzied pace as he shouted. “What?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Mason, but your father is here to see you,” the young orderly replied.

  “Later,” Marc yelled breathlessly as he continued to slam his pelvis into the young Guatemalan girl lying beneath him.

  “It’s a family emergency, sir. Your father is waiting for you in Conference Retreat C.”

  “Goddamn it, what are you talking about?” Marc snarled as he teetered on the edge of achieving his goal.

  “A family friend has passed, sir.” The orderly offered tentatively.

  Marc paused in mid-stroke as his brain processed the words.

  “No pare,” the frustrated young girl panted, oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place.

  “Shut up,” Marc snapped as he rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed catching his breath.

  Marc stood statue-like in his father’s unexpected embrace and spoke without apparent emotion. “Dr. Bob’s dead?”

  “Yes, Marc. He’s dead.”

  “What happened?”

  James grabbed Marc by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. “He was murdered. He was tortured and maimed. And then murdered. He suffered a horrible death, Marc. Horrible.” James struggled to maintain control.

  Marc seemed uneasy with the minimal distance between himself and his father, and pulled away. He looked out the window at something far in the distance, contemplating the implications of what he’d just learned.

  “I should check myself out. The company is going to need me now.”

  “We don’t need to do this, Marc. What’s done is done. I’m here to help. Before it’s too late. You’re my son, for god’s sake.” James words were full of compassion.

  Marc bristled with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m not sure about what you know, and what you don’t know, Marc. About what’s happened since you checked in here.”

  “I don’t know a damn thing about anything. This place doesn’t even get a freaking newspaper.” Marc answered testily.

  James looked at Marc with an expression of compassion and a little disappointment as well. “Some of it went as you’d planned, Marc. Sam Norden was arrested. First Appearance is on Friday morning.”

  Marc attempted to hide behind a veil of anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The torture and murder of Dr. Bob. And, of course, the money. The loss of all that money. It was too much for her.”

  “What?”

  “Elizabeth told me everything, Marc.”

  “She did?” Marc blurted.

  “Yes, she did. But don’t worry, Marc. I’ve sent her to a safe place. Where the authorities won’t find her.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, Marc, I did.”

  “Why?” Marc stood motionless in numb disbelief.

  “Because you’re my son. You’re my own flesh and blood, Marc. No matter what you and Elizabeth did. Right or wrong. Good or bad. That comes first. That will never change.”

  Marc was confused. Confused by what he’d just heard, and confused by his emotions.

  James continued, “Marc, I need to apologize to you.”

  “You need to apologize? To me?”

  James again placed both of his hands on Marc’s shoulders. ”I lied to you.”

  “You lied?”

  “Oh, I may not have said anything that was untrue. But I lied just the same.”

  “About what?” Marc was lost in a fog of confusion.

  “About the company, Marc. About Rebel Life. I mean American Senior Security.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Marc made a pitiful attempt to reclaim some of his earlier anger.

  “I own it, Marc.”

  “Own what?” Marc answered meekly as everything he thought he knew - everything he thought he was - slowly disintegrated under the weight of his father’s words.

  “I own American Senior Security. I owned Rebel Life. Grandfather gave it to me. A long time ago. He started the company, along with others.”

  “A Cayman holding company owns it,” Marc replied in half-hearted defiance.

  “Yes, and I am the sole shareholder of that company. Your great-grandfather was involved in many things, Marc. And he wanted his interest in Rebel Life to remain confidential. So he formed the Cayman holding company, and then gave it to me shortly before he died.”

  “You lied to me.” Marc replied with the weak words of a child.

  “Yes, Marc, I know. I should have told you, but then I thought you wouldn’t help me. I knew you could turn that company around and make it successful again. I saw my grandfather in you, Marc.”

  “You did?”

  James nodded. “I was going to tell you. After . . . I wanted to give you the company after you saved it. Hell, it doesn’t matter now.”

  Marc abruptly turned away from James and furtively brushed a tear from one eye. As if shooing way a fly. “I need to go now. I need to check out of here.”

  “I understand, Marc, but there’s something else. Something I didn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t want to alarm you before we talked. The authorities were following Elizabeth, Marc. Before I sent her away. They’ve photographed her.”

  For the first time that day Marc looked truly frightened. James reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “I need to get you away from here, Ma
rc. Out of the country. That’s why I came.”

  Marc looked out the window and set his jaw. “I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I need to do first.”

  “All right, Marc. I’m not going to try and force you to do anything. But I want to help.”

  “You do?”

  James smiled. “You’re my son, Marc. That’s all that matters now. If the authorities come looking for you, they’ll flag your tag. Just leave your car sitting where it is. I’ve rented a car.” James handed Marc the keys. “I’ll catch a cab and fly home. And here - take this disposable phone. I bought one for myself as well. I’ve programmed the number for yours into mine, and visa versa. If you need anything, I want you to call me. Please?”

  Marc began to fidget. “Are you sure? You’re putting yourself at risk. For me.”

  “We’re blood, Marc. It’s not a choice, is it? I’ll make arrangements to get you out of the country. Under the radar. You let me know when you’re ready. But hurry, Marc. Please hurry with whatever it is that you need to do.”

  Marc looked at the floor for a long moment, and then abruptly walked toward the door. James studied the back of the man he’d called his son. He knew nearly everything he’d just said was a lie. But this much was true. Marc bore an eerie resemblance to the photographs he had seen of his grandfather as a young man.

  CHAPTER 36

  Sally arrived at Tillis’ door shortly before 6 p.m. Tuesday evening with the doorman in tow. Both carried several aluminum foil containers that smelled heavenly.

  “That doesn’t look like pizza,” Tillis observed suspiciously as he opened the door.

  “Doesn’t smell like pizza either,” Sally offered with a smile.

  “I thought I asked you to pick up some pizza.”

  “I distinctly remember you asking me to pick up pizza ‘or whatever sounds good’.”

  Tillis tipped the doorman and then surveyed the containers lined up on his kitchen bar. “What sounded good?”

  “Le Petite Bistro.”

  “That snooty overpriced French place downtown?” Tillis grumbled.