Savage Rising

by C. Hoyt Caldwell

  Spivey quickly changed his mind about the lack of thuggishness of Dani’s hickbilly hitmen.

  Woodrow lifted his head, removing glass from his face. “Goddamn, Step! What kind of body don’t negotiate for information before he goes straight to violence!”

  “An impatient body,” Step said. “The Gray Rise. Talk.”

  Woodrow put a bourbon-soaked cocktail napkin to his face and immediately regretted it. After hissing through the sting, he said, “It’s a gun club.”

  Step reached out to smash Woodrow’s face to the table again, but Woodrow held up a timid hand to stop him.

  “Let me finish…Let me just finish! They call themselves a gun club, but they get into more than that. They do. Illegal hunting and the like. Got hookers running in and out of there a good bit. Imported ones. From Vegas. They get into some weird religious shit, too. It’s more like a…wha’cha call…a cult, than a club. They live up there 24/7.”

  “Where?” Spivey asked.

  Woodrow hesitated, realizing he’d just backed himself into a corner. “There. The mountains. Somewhere. Don’t know exacts. It’s just an expression.”

  “You’re a Pike, right?”

  “I ain’t…”

  “He is,” Kenny said.

  “I ain’t one of those Pikes is what I’m trying to say. I’m blood, but I ain’t in the business. I got a landscaping company. It’s a hard life, but it’s respectable. Not like the rest of the Pike nonsense. These fellas. They’ll tell you I’m speaking the truth. They all work for me.”

  The less desirables gave glassy-eyed nods in response.

  Spivey reached into his pocket and pulled out a timepiece. “You see this? This is a Royal Rail Man. Costs a little under fifty thousand.”

  Woodrow looked at him with a skeptical eye. “So?”

  “So, I traveled a long way to be here tonight. I don’t want to leave here without at least one piece of information I can use.” Spivey tossed the watch to Woodrow. “It’s yours if you give me something that feels like I didn’t waste my time.”

  “You a cop or a fed or something?”

  “Would I have a fifty-thousand-dollar watch if I was?”

  Woodrow considered his point and offered up the only extra information he had. “I seen a lot more strangers around recently.”

  “What type of strangers?”

  “Pissed-off ones. Military types. Jacked-up motherfuckers. Scary fellas.”

  “How does that help me?”

  “These fellas all got more tattoos than naked skin. Most of them got this special one right square on their neck. A Gray Rise tattoo.”

  Spivey nodded and walked away.

  “I get the watch?” Woodrow asked.

  “It’s yours,” Spivey said without breaking his stride as he headed for the door.

  Kenny caught up to him. “That’s it? You give him a fifty-thousand-dollar watch because he seen some fellas with tattoos?”

  “No,” Spivey said. “I gave him a three-hundred-dollar GPS tracking device.”

  Chapter 70

  Wearing latex gloves, Dani and Nola carefully unboxed the college catalogs on a table in Otis’s office. They were all from different colleges, all of them in the state of Tennessee and all of them within a four-hour radius of Titus Grove. Mac had bundled them neatly.

  First they photographed the bundle, labeled each catalog with a numbered Post-it note in ascending order from top to bottom, and dusted each one for prints.

  After a half-hour, eighty-nine catalogs covered the table.

  “Okay,” Dani said, “this is some kind of message, right?”

  “Yeah, to Spivey,” Nola said. “He should be here.”

  “He said he had something to take care of. He’ll be here soon enough. What I don’t get is if she had a message why not just leave him a fucking note, or send an email?”

  Nola shrugged. “She was being watched. Couldn’t risk it. She had to find a way to get a message out without drawing attention to herself. POWs in Vietnam tapped on pipes in their cells to send messages to their fellow prisoners. Took a while for the Vietnamese to figure out that the banging wasn’t a problem with the plumbing.”

  “So they used what they had to communicate with each other without tipping their captors off about what they were doing, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Old rusty pipes in a POW camp makes sense.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is what are a bunch of dumbass ammo-sexual crackers doing with college catalogs? It don’t make sense.”

  “So that’s our first clue,” Nola said, writing “college” in her notebook.

  Dani picked up the catalog with the number one Post-it on the cover and flipped through it. “So we’re looking for what?”

  Nola picked up the the number two catalog. “I don’t know. A class maybe, something that says what she’s trying to say without saying it.”

  “That don’t make a lick of sense.”

  “Just look for something that doesn’t belong. Start from the first page and flip through them…”

  “Hey,” Dani said, staring at the bottom of a page.

  “What?” Nola moved around behind her to look over her shoulder.

  “There’s something at the bottom of the page. Written in with ink. You see?” She pointed to an asterisk with two forward slashes in front of it.

  “Yeah,” Nola said, scanning up the page, “and she lightly underlined a letter above it. M.”

  “M? What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s the first letter.” Nola reached over her shoulder and turned to the next page. “Look for more marks at the bottom of a page.”

  Dani took over page-turning duties from Nola. A few pages in, she found something. “Here…No forward slash, just the asterisk.”

  “Is something underlined?”

  “Yes. The letter O.”

  “M-O.”

  “But there’s no slash. Maybe it’s a decoy letter.”

  “No,” Nola said confidently. “The forward slashes, they mark the beginning of whatever Mac is trying to spell. The last letter will have slashes after the asterisk. I’d bet my life on it. Find the next letter.”

  Dani frantically flipped through the next few pages. “Here. T.”

  Nola wrote down the letters as Dani found them. In short order, they got to the asterisk followed by the forward slashes.

  “Mothers Gun Protest,” Nola said, reading the message. “Ring any bells?”

  Dani shook her head and took the catalog with the number two on the cover from Dani. “Nope, but luckily Mac tapped on a whole lot of pipes.”

  Chapter 71

  Spivey, Kenny, and Step waited in the parking lot of a convenience store next to the interstate. Spivey guzzled coffee while Kenny made his way through a six-pack of PBR. Step worked on draining every bit of cancer from his pack of Porter 100s.

  Spivey periodically checked his phone.

  “Anything?” Kenny asked.

  Spivey shook his head. “Nope.”

  “He’s probably took up with a dancer,” Kenny said. “They do extracurriculars for a fee.”

  “Either that or he’s passed out cold,” Step said. “Boy could never hold his liquor, and I smashed his head pretty good.”

  “He’s waiting on a call,” Spivey said.

  “A what?” Kenny asked.

  “A phone call.”

  Step took a deep drag from his cigarette and swallowed the smoke. “How could you know a thing like that?”

  “Because we made him nervous.”

  “So?”

  “So, low man on the totem pole gets nervous, he calls the next man up. Next man up puts a call in to the leadership. Woodrow’s waiting for his marching orders.”

  “But he said he didn’t have dealings with this Gray Rise business,” Kenny said.

  Spivey shrugged. “He probably doesn’t, but that’s not by choice. He just hasn’t been invited to the party. Our
little visit gave him the collateral he’s been looking for to get his foot in the door…” His phone buzzed, and he quickly looked at the display. “He’s on the move.”

  They all piled into Spivey’s Accord. Kenny sat in the passenger seat, sipping the suds off the top of his beer can. Spivey bypassed him and handed his phone to Step in the back. “You’re my navigator. Tell me when and where to turn.”

  Step eyed the display with a cigarette stuck between his lips. “Right on 502.”

  Spivey pulled out of the parking lot and did as Step instructed.

  Step barked out a few more directions before he let out a chuckle and passed the phone back up front.

  “What’re you doing?” Spivey asked. “I need you to navigate.”

  “I don’t need the phone for that. I know where the boy’s headed.”

  Kenny looked at the phone display and said, “Well, shit. Shoulda known that sumbitch was mixed up in this.”

  “Go ’bout five mile,” Step said, “then hang a left on Prophet Tawny Way. About another mile on, you’ll find Woodrow at a piece-of-shit church.”

  “Tawny’s a loathsome fella,” Kenny said. “He’d sell his momma for a blow job and a kick of hooch. He’s about as familiar with God as a politician is with the truth.” He took a swig of beer before adding, “Guess I’d do the same deal. ’Cept my momma was a loathsome creature, too, so it don’t come off near as bad if I was to take a blow job for her.”

  Spivey took a hard left onto Prophet Tawny Way and sped down the dirt road. The leaning steeple came into view as he rounded a bend, as did the red taillights of Woodrow’s Cadillac. By the time Spivey pulled the car to a stop and threw it into park, three men stood on the front stoop of the church, the double doors open wide behind them. Woodrow walked nervously toward them, spinning around in his tracks to see who had screeched to a halt behind him.

  “Welcome, gentlemen,” Tawny said, flanked by two soldiers with biceps the size of cantaloupes.

  “What the fuck?” Woodrow said.

  “Language,” Tawny said coolly. “This is the Lord’s house for Christ’s sake.”

  Spivey led the way as he, Kenny, and Step walked slowly toward the church.

  “You fellas armed?” Tawny asked.

  “No,” Spivey answered. “Do we need to be?”

  Kenny whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Me and Step’s armed. A couple of different ways.”

  Spivey waved him off. “We don’t want trouble.”

  “Good,” Tawny said with a phony smile, “because a church isn’t a place for trouble. How can we help you?”

  “We’re interested in joining your club.”

  Woodrow turned to Tawny. “I didn’t say nothing about it. If he says I did, he’s lying.”

  Tawny raised his hand to quiet Woodrow down. “What’s this about a club?”

  “The Gray Rise,” Spivey said. “I hear good things.”

  Tawny squinted through the darkness. “Step Crawford? That you?”

  “It is,” Step said.

  “And that round fella, that must be Kenny.”

  Kenny patted his belly. “I drunk a beer or two or six tonight. I’m a might bloated. No need to draw attention to it.”

  “And your name, stranger?”

  “Jack Spivey.”

  Tawny clapped his hands together and laughed. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard about you. Vinton Pike had some not-so-nice things to say about you.”

  “That makes sense, since I wasn’t very nice to him.”

  “Now, what’s this about a club? A Gray…what was that again?”

  “Rise. Gray Rise. My friend Mac told me about it. You know her? Patricia McElhenney?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Tawny stepped off the stoop. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know nothing about a Gray Rise or this Mac. You’re welcome to come inside and worship with us, but I can’t help you join no club or find your friend.”

  Spivey smiled. “Who said my friend was lost?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You said you can’t help me find my friend. No one said anything about looking for my friend.”

  Tawny shrugged. “My mistake.”

  “Where is she?” Spivey asked, dropping his tone an octave or two below sinister.

  “He’s a fucking fed,” Woodrow said. “I told you. I told you on the phone this motherfucker was a fed.”

  “Shut up,” Tawny said.

  “These two steroid junkies talk?” Spivey asked, motioning toward the men standing on either side of Tawny.

  Both men set their jaws and furrowed their thick brow ridges.

  “Men of God use words sparingly, Mr. Spivey.”

  Spivey laughed. “Doesn’t sound like any men of God I’ve ever heard of. Most of them have bigger mouths than brains. You know? Like you.”

  Tawny let a frown set in before saying, “Well, now you’re just being rude and testing my patience, Mr. Spivey. I think it’d be better for us all if you just turn around and go.”

  Spivey shook his head. “No, I don’t think we’ll do that. I think we’ll come inside and have a chat…” A red dot appeared on his chest. A quick scan of Step and Kenny revealed a number of other red dots. Spivey chuckled. “I guess I should have asked if you’re armed.”

  “I’m not,” Tawny said. “My friends are.”

  “I’m guessing your friends out there are snake eaters like your two friends next to you.”

  One of the muscle-heads cracked a smile.

  Tawny looked at the two men standing beside him. “You ain’t gotta insult my friends.”

  “It’s not an insult.” Spivey directed his attention to the man who smiled. “What were you, 5th SFG?”

  Stone-faced, the man replied, “You’re about to have a soup sandwich on your hands, sir.”

  Spivey grinned. “Understood.” Without another word, he returned to the car. Kenny and Step reluctantly followed.

  Once they were turning off of Prophet Tawny Way, Kenny said, “Well, that was a waste of a good night.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “We didn’t do nothing but get chased off.”

  “It’s who we got chased off by that matters,” Spivey said.

  “And who would that be?” Step asked.

  “Not sure about the ones pointing long guns at us, but the two on the steps were special ops. Snake eaters. Former, anyway.”

  “That’s nice and all,” Kenny said. “But how in the hell does that add up to anything worthwhile?”

  “It tells us,” Spivey said, “that the Gray Rise aren’t messing around. They’ve gone long ball with their recruiting efforts. Things are about to get very, very serious, and we’ve gotta find out where and when.”

  “They seemed nice enough,” Kenny said. “The one fella offered us soup and sandwiches.”

  Spivey laughed. “He wasn’t offering us a snack. He was threatening us. A soup sandwich is the military’s way of saying things are about to get messy.”

  Step gazed out of the window and asked, “So, what’re you, some kind of ex-soldier yourself?”

  Spivey let the question linger unanswered for a while before saying, “Some kind of, yeah.”

  Chapter 72

  Dani and Nola were huddled over one of the catalogs from Mac’s box when Spivey strolled past Otis’s office looking for them. He doubled back and stood in the doorway, watching them. They were so focused on decoding Mac’s message they didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat.

  “Deciding on a major?” he asked.

  “Mac,” Dani said. “She’s fucking brilliant.”

  Spivey felt his cheeks flush. For whatever reason, he was embarrassed by the compliment. It felt like Dani had complimented his own daughter.

  Dani held up one of the catalogs. “Everything she knew, she spelled out in these catalogs.”

  “What did she know?”

  “For starters, your boss, Nolen, he’s in some deep shit.”

  “W
hat kind of shit?”

  Dani shrugged. “We don’t know. We’re still digging through the catalogs.”

  “Whatever it is,” Nola said, “has put Harley Pike in a major power position. He has Nolen by the short hairs.”

  Spivey shook his head. “I’ve worked for Nolen for a while now. No one gets one over on him. Trust me. He’s smarter than anyone I know and that damn sure counts all the Pikes I’ve met to date.”

  “Well, he fucked up somehow,” Dani said. “Because that money he’s been passing through to Luna is a payoff. Harley’s got something your boss wants, and whatever it is, Harley is holding it hostage.”

  “He’s blackmailing Nolen?”

  “And not just for money,” Nola said. “Harley’s using Nolen to get in tight with other members of the billionaire class. The rich and stinking rich have poured tons of cash into Harley’s pocket through an elaborate web of consultants, nonprofits, and super PACs.”

  “And I’m guessing he’s not using the money and connections just to finance his gun fetish.”

  Dani tossed Spivey the notebook they’d been using to decipher Mac’s coded message. “He’s using it to finance the next fucking civil war.”

  Chapter 73

  Tawny stood on the altar dressed in his battle-gray clergy cassock. It was a bit too form-fitting for a man of his round physique, but this was the attire the master general wanted his spiritual counsel to wear when blessing a battle.

  The invocation spoke of God’s holy wrath and swords of the righteous. It focused heavily on the honor of dying for freedom and God’s Word. He assured the men of the Gray Rise that they were all ordained to fight for America, the only country in the history of man that had been anointed by the spirit of the Holy Father and His exalted Son.

  The men’s minds were torn apart by the training and the wanton debauchery. They easily fell under the spell of Tawny’s Southern drawl and melodic tones.

  The pudgy preacher had every man come to the altar with their rifles, where he blessed each weapon and prayed that each life taken with it would find salvation in the Kingdom of God.

  Harley didn’t speak. This was Tawny’s show. He kept a watchful eye from the back of the church and looked for disbelievers in the pews. He expected to find a handful, but he found none.