Godsend_a gripping, fast-paced thriller

by J. A. Marley

  “Honey chile, it’s coupon day. They get everything ‘too-fer’ up until nine pm. You can print them right off that computer thingy they all got these days. You not got no coupons?”

  “Too-fer?”

  “Sure, sweetie… dontcha know… ‘too-fer’? They don’t do two for one in liddle ole London town, evah?”

  “Oh, I get it… I’m not sure… maybe at the supermarket, Tina. But you sell a different type of service in here.”

  A cackle born of too many Marlboros rose from her throat at that. Her hair was almost all white and looked dry like straw. She reminded Danny of how Bette Davies looked in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? all pancake make-up, vibrant lipstick and more wrinkles than an elephant’s trunk.

  “How’s Morty doing?”

  Danny knew it was always polite to ask Tina about Morty, her Chihuahua dog. She loved that animal, and you didn’t dive right into asking favours with a Southern Belle. Manners were everything with Slow Tina.

  “That dawg… he’ll be the death of me. Keeps thinking he can hear ghosts in the middle of the night. Barking and yellering all over my bed at four in the morning. Still, he’s the only one don’t get scared when he sees me with no make-up on.”

  It was Danny’s turn to laugh. He signalled the bartender, motioning for him to refill whatever it was that Tina was having.

  “It’s called a Blue Marlin, darlin’. They make ’em specially for liddle ole me”

  Danny would never dream of tasting anything that colour.

  “And a Woodford for me please, Sal…” If you can’t beat them… he might as well join them.

  “You’re too kind, my handsome Brit. Is this a social visit, or we looking to talk a liddle turkey?”

  “Oh, now, Tina, it’s always a delight to come and visit you.”

  “You think I just floated my way up the Florida Straits in a bubble? Leave the flim flam for them college boys. They don’t know no better.”

  She playfully slapped his shoulder as she said this. Danny noticed that she left her hand there, beginning to gently stroke him after putting him in his place.

  “I declare, I remember the days when a young man like you would be taking me in those Vee I Pee rooms out back. You are a fine specimen, Danny. You make me feel all pre-menopausal, even in this humidity.”

  “Oh, Tina, that would have been my honour back in the day.”

  “Honour? Screw that, honey, it would have cost you all of five dollars for one song and a little touchy feel. Now, what do you need to know?”

  “Okay. It’s a long shot, but I think I may have had an unwanted visitor last night. So, I was wondering, if you had heard any rumours. Are there some new faces hanging around?”

  “Nobody famous, sweetheart. You know the type I mean, tend to get their photies on the wall of the Sheriff’s office…”

  “The type I’m talking about, Tina, might not be so… careless…”

  “Oh… a talented individual? Now we’re getting a little more specific. But unfortunately for you, I’ve not heard anything… except… maybe…”

  Danny leaned a little closer. The DJ had started to play Cream by Prince just as he and Tina had reached the crux of their chat. On the stage, a dancer flung herself around a pole like a woman possessed.

  “Well… Fat Tony… you know Tony? Sure, you do… on the run for burning his strip mall down in Poughkeepsie. God Bless Florida’s lax attitude to other’s states arrest warrants. Well, now, he manages Porky’s Barbecue joint down the Keys away… tasty conch fritters. Anyhoo, he and I were bitching a liddle about how the tourists don’t tip so well like they used to. He said especially the Europeens, they just don’t know how. So, he tells me about this couple who just came in the other day. They were both English, but arrived separately, her looking a million dollars and him all muscle and sunglasses. They didn’t even leave a nickel behind. But what made Tony pause was that he could have sworn the man was law enforcement or military of some type. Something ’bout the way he carried himself. But those who carry a badge usually do the decent thing with their change.”

  “What did he look like, Tina? Did Tony say?”

  “He didn’t say too much, except he remembered he had a head that looked too big for his body. Oh, and something about a weird eye. One that wasn’t all there.”

  Danny’s mind was racing. Tina’s confidantes had a knack of spotting detail and recognising a lawman or a specialist when they saw one. English? Possible cop or ex-military?

  Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Danny knew he needed to find out more but was probably done for the moment with Tina.

  He pressed a folded up one-hundred-dollar bill into Tina’s hand as she started to gather her drink and her little stripper handbag off the bar.

  “You’re too kind, honey chile. Gotta pay my bills. Have to go now, you should nevah keep your public waiting too long… what should I dance to, Danny? A liddle Aretha? That one she did with your English boy? George Michael? That him?”

  “That was him, and it sounds just perfect, Tina. You’ll keep your ear to the ground for me, won’t you?”

  “I never deny a gennelman… especially when he’s payin’…”

  Tina gave him a lascivious wink that belied her years, and, not for the first time, Danny thought if he had met her when she was younger, it would have been a lot of fun to take her out back to that “Vee I Pee” area.

  But now? He paid his bar bill and stood to leave. He didn’t need to see Tina strut her stuff at three miles per hour. Danny left Woody’s feeling worried. But at least he was in motion. He was on the hunt.

  9

  Old Timey Gospel

  When Vincent Cardell felt troubled or off centre, he always returned to what he knew best. He made a few phone calls and soon he was on his way to a little revivalist tent that was touring around the upper half of Florida State. A preacher he knew had been taking the message of the bible to communities across northern Florida and into Georgia for the last three years. The small operation was run by family, literally pitching a tent in a local farmer’s field and proselytising to whoever showed up.

  It was Old Timey Gospel. The kind of blood and thunder Christianity that talked of the serpent Satan, the Book of Revelations and the second Coming. Would y’all be prepared when Jesus calls again?

  The car journey up may have taken three hours, but, to Vincent, it was more than worth it. He was here to proclaim the precious word of The Lord. The service was in a marquee on the outskirts of White Springs. This tiny town lived in the shadow of Jacksonville but didn’t share any of its more liberal attitudes to life.

  The tent was stiflingly hot. Mosquitoes buzzed in the air. A smattering of faithful sat on plastic folding chairs waiting to be given the keys to the pearly gates, which many of them were not too far away from seeing.

  As he took to the platform that was made out of hay bales and old wooden pallets, Vincent could feel his crisp white shirt sticking to his back. He surveyed the thirty or so audience and took a deep breath. There was no microphone or lectern to hide behind. He had his red leather bible and his own convictions. They were enough.

  He spoke and wanted to talk about his true passion. He needed to hear it himself as well as for the glory of God. He needed to re-affirm his mission in life before his God, before these sinners… before his own soul.

  “Pilgrims… Fellow Sinners… Fellow Penitents… I am truly blessed to be here tonight with you. Preacher Lucas was very kind to extend his hospitality and blessings to me tonight. I’d like to thank him for that.”

  A few half-hearted hallelujahs welcomed him.

  “But let’s talk, you and I, about being thankful. What is it we have in our lives to be thankful for every day? We have our families? We have our faith? It is the love of God, Jesus our saviour and the Holy Ghost. We have that every day, every time we take a breath…”

  Vincent looked up from his red bible, feeling the attention of the congregation on him. They knew he was about to
begin in earnest.

  “But what have we got to be thankful for beyond that? Pilgrims, we live in a time of sinfulness that makes Sodom and Gomorrah look like a July fourth picnic. Men begat with men. Women with women. We have lawmakers, who we pay our hard-earned tax dollars for, sitting in their ivory towers, talking about bathrooms for tran-sex-u-al people. Abominations in the face of Adam, Eve and all that God created. We have television and the media pushing messages of tolerance for heathen religions and portraying sexual congress and drug taking as glamorous. Young minds are exposed to the in-ter-net. If ever the devil wanted to write his own script, he would surely do it on a laptop computer.”

  The smattering of hallelujahs was beginning to gather pace. Vincent felt his righteousness build in his chest.

  “Satan’s serpent moves amongst us, slithering amongst our schools, allowing the teaching of beliefs that question the Lord’s Bible. The world is millions of years old? That’s not what God wants us to know. A different message says we should stand side by side with other, supposed, holy books that deny our Christian rights, our heritage, the sacrifice of the Crucifixion, and the very fact that Jesus died on the cross for our souls! High and mighty charlatans teach of science with no role for divinity. They deny God’s hand in our beautiful country, our beautiful America!”

  The congregation was truly warmed up, their fervour growing to keep pace with Vincent’s own.

  “And they do all of this, safe in the knowledge that they believe they are right. Not God. But they don’t know their Bible! They don’t know God saw them coming. On ho-mo-sex-u-ality: If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them. That’s Leviticus twenty chapter twenty and verse thirteen. Abomination!

  “On false idols and religions: The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply; their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out or take their names on my lips. That’s Psalms sixteen four. Their sorrows multiply! On God and our beautiful America: But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? That is the book of Job. Chapter twelve, I do declare. The hand of The Lord! God knew… he knew where our vanity and our soullessness would lead us.”

  Each bible quote was greeted with shouts of “Praise be” and “Praise Jesus”, Vincent building towards his final message, his eyes burning bright, sweat beading on his brow.

  “Jesus himself said it, Pilgrims, he said it with his own mouth, the wisdom falling from his sacred lips, for us to hear, not to turn a deaf ear towards. He said: and then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold. Lawlessness will be increased! We see this every day. Jihad. Suicide bombers. All trying to wipe away our Christianity. But our Divine Saviour will prevail. And we can help. It is our duty… our mission to help. We must take up the positions that will prevent lawlessness. We must put Christianity back into the hearts our leadership! Jesus commands it… he demands it!”

  At that point, Vincent lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. He knew they were with him in the room. He had them.

  “So, the next time you’re in that voting booth, be it to elect a sheriff, a congressman, a senator or a president, take a moment. Are they Christian? Do they hold the blessed hand of Christ in theirs? Will they lead from the bible and not from the sinful, latter day Sodom our country has created? Will they put Jesus to the fore? Will they serve us as we serve our Lord? For, as it says in the second book of Peter, The heavens and earth that now exist are stored up for fire, being kept until the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly.”

  The room had fallen silent. Heads nodded to replace the shouts and cries of devotion.

  “Elect leaders who will bring that fire. Become leaders who will bring that fire. Unleash the Fire on the scientists who tell us climate change will rob us of the land and water that God gives us. Our God would not abandon us in such a way. Bring fire upon the gays, the transsexuals, the deviants who promote sodomy and subversion of God’s way. Bring fire unto the false prophets, the Jihadis, those who would deny our great saviour’s light! Bring Fire! Rain fire down on them so that our America can be a beacon of Christ’s way and Christ’s love for us. That is our calling! Bring fire, pilgrims, fire that can cleanse and return the righteous to the very heart of our nation and our families. Rise up for Jesus… it can be our only salvation! Bring fire! Bring that holy fire!”

  Vincent was shouting, his passion making his voice crack and lips spit. The congregation joined in with him, leaving their plastic seats, pleading for the destruction of fellow human beings, shouting the deadly mix of fundamentalist Christianity and patriotism into the air. Just as he wanted. Just as Vincent Cardell wanted for himself. For some day, he hoped to be the name on that ballot, the name against which these souls could put their tick. And that was why he wanted all that money. Politics, he knew, was an expensive game, one that required risk. He was prepared to take those risks, and if that meant using sleight of hand, or more, to fool the likes of Ines Zedillo and her masters, then he would take it. He would be as Christ’s champion on earth. He wanted this more than anything, because he knew it was what God wanted.

  The journey back to Tampa was long, Vincent felt exhausted as he always did after preaching, whether it be to thousands at one of his big rallies or a tent in the middle of nowhere to a handful of souls.

  The air conditioning of the car was a welcome relief after the muggy air in the tent earlier. But despite his fatigue and need for a shower, Vincent’s work for the night was not yet done. His driver steered down the I-75. The three-hour drive home would be lengthened by a detour into the city of Tampa to meet with the head of security for Vincent’s operation.

  Staring out of the car window, watching the night fly by, Vincent was struck by how far he had journeyed. He had never suspected that he would need a head of security. But his ferocious ambition had propelled him to places, alliances and situations he could never have foreseen. And as his attempts to realise his ambitions grew, they brought him into ever murkier waters.

  They met regularly, once every two weeks, and that night was the night. He would have various updates for Vincent, but on this occasion, there would be an extra element to the usually straight forward proceedings.

  They pulled into the car park at Riverfront Park. The soccer pitches and tennis courts were long empty after the evening sports fans had gone home. Vincent’s limo drew level with a black four-door Mercedes, decked out in privacy glass. A driver stepped out to open the rear door. The security manager made the switch from the Merc to the limo, joining his boss for their update meeting.

  “Good evening, Pastor Cardell.”

  Vincent regarded the tall, greying man. They had been working together for over two years, and it was only now that he truly felt he could trust him. Mind you, recent events had increased the need for trust.

  “Mr Norby… good to see you. Do you have what I asked for?”

  “Yes, sir, as requested.”

  “Good man. Shall we do the update first, before other business?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m due to meet with the guys at the Miami Conference Centre this coming week to finalise plans for our upcoming mission. But everything seems to be in place. There is not much to adjust from last time.”

  “Excellent. Now, what about that journalist?”

  “The lady in question has been told, again, that her requests for an interview will continue to be ignored. We have identified a fellow believer in the higher management of the Miami Sun Times. He will be apprised of the situation later this week. That should be the end of it.”

  “I want to know the moment that happens. We can’t let a hack trying to
dig up anti-Christian dialogue disrupt our work.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “And… my wife?”

  “Nothing much to report this week. With the exception of one thing. She made an un-diarised stop at a barbecue joint one lunchtime in the Keys.”

  “A barbecue joint? My wife?”

  “We weren’t there to witness it, sir. It stood out when I reviewed the log from the tracker on her car.”

  This piqued Vincent’s curiosity. Norby did not know June that well. A barbecue joint? She was more likely to stab herself in the eye than to eat somewhere with anything less than a Michelin star on the menu.

  “And nowhere unusual before or after?”

  “No, sir. Straight there, straight home.”

  “Are we still tapping her phone?”

  “Not since she lost her handset a month ago.”

  Vincent remembered it. The big fuss she made of having misplaced it. The handset never showing up, despite having a tracking app activated on it. It was as if the damned thing had just vanished off the face of the planet. She had acted considerably upset, lamenting the loss of her contacts and photos, telling him her last back-up had failed.

  “We’ll try and get back into her new phone this coming week, sir. Perhaps while you are both on an engagement or a TV appearance.”

  “Okay, good. Keep a close eye on that tracker… And now, more delicate business.”

  “I’ll just get him…”

  Norby exited the limo, leaving Cardell to briefly puzzle over his wife’s lunch habits. Cardell had ordered the tracker for June’s car as soon as Norby had started working for him. It wasn’t that Vincent suspected anything, but he liked the idea of being sure. He felt that way about most people he kept close, the numbers of which could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

  The door of the limo opened, and Norby ushered in a bulky man dressed casually, an uncomfortable expression on his face.