He started to reply but she hung up on him.
Carol advanced to an ATM and finished securing funds for four round-trip tickets to Kiritimati. Illegal investments and insider trading over the past month had greatly padded her bank account to help pay for her three colleagues’ immediate travel needs.
After boarding the flight, she sat in a row that included Sam, Gary and Rodney. A pleasant-looking business traveler sat next to her, facing the window.
She tried to ignore him, but he spoke up. He introduced himself as Jay, an account manager for a benefits consulting company.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, friendly.
Carol responded in a flat tone. “I’m going to hell.”
He didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the trip.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jake and Emma met for coffee, searching for answers in their mutual state of bewilderment.
“I don’t know her anymore,” said Jake. He stared into his cup, eyes lost. “She’s not the same woman I married.”
Emma sat across from him. “That’s how I could describe Gary. He’s become a different person since we returned home from Kiritimati. Kelly says the same thing about Rodney. And Sam’s not right either. He shaved his head, he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. Kelly thinks he might be behind that church fire, which is crazy on the surface, but not any stranger than the rest of this.”
“I don’t get it,” said Jake. “I keep thinking things will stabilize and return to what they were. But it’s getting worse, not better.”
“I have the name and number of a divorce attorney. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to make the call.”
“As little as I see Carol these days, we might as well be divorced.”
“Kelly has a theory,” said Emma. “I didn’t believe it at first. But now I’m so desperate, I’d believe anything.”
“What is it?”
“She thinks they were poisoned on that fishing trip. Something happened related to radioactive fallout from those old bomb tests.”
“Radiation?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jake. “Radiation produces physical effects, but this is all psychological. It’s attitude, it’s a change of behavior.”
“What if the radiation caused some kind of brain tumor?”
“So quickly?”
“I don’t know.”
“I could ask Carol to see a doctor and get scanned, but she doesn’t listen to me anymore.”
“We need to talk to Kelly,” said Emma. “She was going to research the history of nuclear testing on the island. She’s convinced it has something to do with this.”
Jake shrugged. “At this stage, I’m willing to believe anything.”
Emma spent several days trying to reach Kelly without success. She tried her home and cell phones and texted persistently.
Finally, she grew alarmed and called Jake. His efforts to reach Kelly were equally unsuccessful. Rodney was nowhere to be found either.
They agreed to go to the house.
No one answered the ring of the bell.
Jake moved away from the door. He began looking in windows. Emma followed, walking tenderly with a hand on her hip. As Jake circled the home, he found a lower window well providing a glimpse into the basement.
He knelt down and strained to look inside. He discovered a dark, motionless outline of a person lying on the floor.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Is that her?”
At the hospital, Emma and Jake paced in the waiting room, anxious for updates.
Finally, a doctor appeared, accompanied by a police officer.
The doctor explained that Kelly was in a coma and had suffered multiple serious blows to the head. She was in critical condition.
Emma burst into tears.
After the doctor described Kelly’s condition, he introduced them to police officer Frank Beltane. “We’re investigating this as a potential home invasion,” said the officer. “I’d like to go someplace private where I could speak with the two of you.”
“Yes, of course,” said Jake.
The doctor excused himself and Jake and Emma accompanied Officer Beltane into a small, windowless conference room on another floor. They sat together at a rectangular table.
“Have they found Christina?” asked Emma.
“Christina’s safe,” said Officer Beltane. “She’s been staying with Mrs. Martinez’s parents in downstate Illinois this whole time. A small farm town called Cody. Mrs. Martinez left the child with them a little over a week ago.”
“What about Rodney?” asked Jake.
“Rodney has been on a leave of absence from the force at his own request,” said Officer Beltane. “We have been unable to locate him, and we’re quite worried. It’s possible someone has targeted both of them, perhaps in retaliation.”
“Retaliation for what?” asked Emma.
“Officer Martinez is one of our finest policemen, ma’am,” said Beltane. “Unfortunately, that comes with a price. There are gang bangers, drug dealers, local mafia and other scum who would like to do him harm. He has been a major force in reducing crime in the city of Chicago. That doesn’t make him very popular with the criminals.”
Emma and Jake looked at one another. Then Jake faced Officer Beltane.
“Officer, we believe it is possible that Mrs. Martinez was attacked by her husband.”
Beltane stared at him long and hard before saying, “Rodney?”
“Yes, sir. I have seen—we have seen a change in his behavior. I believe he is capable of this kind of—”
Beltane cut him off, face reddening. He rose from his chair. “Let me get this straight. You are accusing Rodney Martinez of this brutal attack? Do you know Rodney Martinez?”
“Yes, sir, I—”
“No, I don’t think you do. But let me tell you something. I have known that man for 20 years. Rodney Martinez is a man of peace. He abhors violence and has dedicated his life to preventing it. He loves his wife more than anything in the world. He is one of the most honorable, most decorated officers we have on the force, ask anybody in the CPD. That man did not commit this crime. It’s ludicrous.”
“Do you have proof he didn’t do it?” asked Emma. “Tell me that. How can you know?”
Beltane looked back and forth between the two of them. Then he folded his arms across his chest. “This is very interesting to me. The two of you sailing this story… It’s such an outrageous concoction that I can’t help but think that maybe I should be suspicious of the two of you.”
“This is bullshit!” shouted Jake, starting to rise.
“Sit back down,” said Officer Beltane, forcefully. “I’m not done here. And neither are you.”
Part Five
Go to Hell
Chapter Twenty-Five
The plane landed with a hard thump on the runway, arriving on schedule in Kiritimati. Most of the passengers came alive with joyful chatter, excited to begin an exotic tropical vacation. Four remained stoic and silent, displaying no emotion, headed on a mission.
Carol, Rodney, Gary and Sam spoke little during the long flight. When they did address one another, they used the names on their fake identification cards. Rodney had secured aliases with the assistance of an expert hacker who owed him favors.
Stepping off the plane into the hot sunshine, the foursome collectively pulled out hats and sunglasses in nearly identical movements and put them on to obscure any similarity with a previous group of travelers from Chicago. They paid a scraggly local man with a rusty jeep to drive them from the airport to the beach, avoiding the bus service offered by the hotel. That bus service included Simon, the tour guide who had no reason to know about their return, unless he wished a swift and silent demise.
After a short drive on dusty roads lined with palm t
rees, the ocean came into view. The waves crashed in a steady rhythm, sparkling with sunlight. The group climbed out of the jeep. Carol paid the driver and told him to get lost. Gary led the way through the sand, a purposeful march to the boat harbor operated by Jamarqui.
Brown-skinned Jamarqui emerged from the small tin shed, shirtless and ready to do business. He squinted at his visitors.
He recognized them.
“We need a boat,” said Gary.
Jamarqui studied their faces. His expression did not welcome them. His mouth formed a frown.
“No,” he said.
“No?” replied Rodney with a firm tone demanding reconsideration.
“I know what happened last time,” said Jamarqui, and his voice wavered with barely suppressed panic. “I told you not to go there and you go. You know what I mean.”
Carol stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. She smiled, batting her blue eyes at him. “Jamarqui, honey, you must be mistaken. We did everything you told us. We just want to go fishing.”
Jamarqui pulled away, breaking the contact. “No! I don’t believe you. You want to go…go back.”
Sam said, “I really don’t see how you have any say in this. You are a lowlife nobody in some barely recognized Third World country, and you’re not going to tell us what we can or can’t do.”
Carol attempted to get closer to him again. She licked her lips. “How about if I make it worth your while? How good is your English? Do you understand the term blowjob?”
He stared at her, puzzled.
“Listen, you’re wasting our time,” said Gary to Jamarqui. “We’re going to take one of your boats. I’d like to see you try to stop us. I used to take down 270 pound defensive linemen, so believe me, I can twist an undernourished, 95-pound island boy into a fucking pretzel. That’s your choice.”
“You cannot take one of my boats,” said Jamarqui, his chest shuddering with adrenaline. “Go away. Now. Go away.”
“Oh shut up.” Rodney stuck his hand into Jamarqui’s face, clutching it and twisting down in a single, forceful movement that sent him tumbling into the sand.
“That’s it,” laughed Gary. “Are you hungry? Have a sandwich. Ha, get it?”
Sam looked down at the boy and said, “Stupid gnat.”
Rodney headed for the tin shed. “Where does he keep the keys?”
Jamarqui quickly jumped back to his bare feet. He scrambled ahead of Rodney to enter the shed before anyone else.
“This asshole doesn’t know when to give up,” said Carol.
Jamarqui emerged from the shed with a gun.
He aimed it at Rodney, who froze. After a moment, the others also saw the weapon and halted their advance.
“Look at that fucking thing,” said Rodney. “I haven’t seen one of those in years. An old-fashioned revolver, I’ll bet it’s an antique.”
Gary said, “Probably doesn’t even have any bullets.”
“Don’t be so sure,” cautioned Carol.
“Hell, it’s probably got too much sand in it to fire properly,” said Rodney.
Jamarqui continued to aim it at them. “It can still shoot. Leave now. I will call the police.”
“I am the police,” said Rodney.
“You get kicked off the island,” said Jamarqui. “You go home and not come back.”
An older man with a deep tan had been walking along the beachfront toward them, occasionally stopping to scoop up seashells. As the argument with Jamarqui intensified, the man drew closer, approaching Jamarqui from behind.
Gary recognized the handsome, fit older man. He turned to Rodney, who also remembered this beachcomber.
It was Louis, the American they had met one evening during their previous trip to Kiritimati.
Jamarqui continued to hold the pistol steady, the muscles taut in his bony arms, aiming at the closest of the four, Rodney.
“Don’t stand there,” ordered Jamarqui. “Leave. I say leave now.”
Making silent steps in the sand, Louis approached Jamarqui from behind. Something glistened in Louis’s hand. In a quick, robotic movement, Louis raised a sharp blade, reached his arm in front of Jamarqui and slit his throat.
Blood immediately streamed from the glistening red line across Jamarqui’s neck. He dropped the pistol and fell to his knees. He brought his hands to his throat, gurgling.
Sam moved quickly to grab a green boat tarp from alongside the shed. He covered Jamarqui with it. The body created a shifting lump under the tarp, moving, struggling, then still.
Louis stepped over to the water and rinsed his blade. “Go on,” he said casually. “Take the boat.”
“Who the hell—” said Sam.
“It’s okay,” said Gary. “We know him. Rodney and I met him last time we were here. The night we had drinks on the beach.”
Louis returned with a clean blade.
“You gave us the tip,” said Rodney, looking at Louis.
Louis smiled. “Yes. We talked fishing. I’m glad you took my advice. If you know the right place to go, the fishing is out of this world. I should know. It changed my life.”
Louis nodded politely at the foursome. “Have a good trip.” He continued on his way down the beach. He began singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” from the musical Oklahoma.
Gary looked back at the green tarp covering a motionless lump. Some blood seeped out on one end, soiling the sand. Gary turned to Rodney, Carol and Sam.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
The sky shifted from blue to deep red. The firestorm returned with an explosion of shrill screams and a violent cyclone of ghastly faces. This time, however, the boat’s four passengers felt no fear. Instead, they experienced euphoria.
Standing on the deck of the boat they reached out with their arms, cried out joyously and welcomed the onslaught of demons. Centuries of evil souls filled their sight with expressions of madness, screeching in constant motion, fueled by raw, crackling energy.
Sam danced with giddy exuberance as a hard rain pounded down on him. He dropped to his knees and thanked Satan for allowing him entry through Hell’s gates, shouting his appreciation into the roar of the storm.
Rodney took heavy steps forward, struggling against the howling winds to reach the front of the boat. A swirl of wicked faces surrounded him.
Maintaining his footing, Rodney cried out to the skies, “Yuri Kolstov. Yuri Kolstov. I command you and your men to come forward. Let us absorb your wisdom into our mortal beings. We will fulfill the mission you started on earth in the summer of 1962 A.D. Yuri Kolstov, we offer ourselves to your greatness.”
Amid the frenzied dance of billions of demonic faces one came to the forefront of the hellfire and expanded to a monstrous size, as large as the boat itself, producing two big black eyes, flaring nostrils and a gaping mouth that emitted a deafening roar louder than all others
Rodney stretched out his arms to welcome the beast. “I am here!” he screamed. “We are here. Grace us with your souls.”
A blinding crack of red lightning speared Rodney from the sky. He flew backward across the boat’s deck, landing in a puddle of water, sliding and rolling from the impact.
Gary laughed with glee, skipping past his fallen comrade. “Me! Take me! Hit me with your best shot! You are the only one who can take me down.” A second bolt struck Gary and he crashed to the deck, arms and legs wiggling as if electrocuted.
On the other side of the boat, Carol lifted her skirt and pulled down her pink silk panties. She exposed herself to billions of leering demons and shrieked louder than her voice had ever gone before: “Me, me! Do me! Do me now!” A hot red line of surging power entered between her legs and lifted her several feet before dropping her with a smack to the wet deck. She squealed with ecstatic pain, rolling in the water.
Sam plunged his fist in
to the air, eyes wild with revelation. “I am ready mighty one. Enlighten me so that I may fulfill our mission. We will bring hell out of the shadows and into the light so that all of mankind may experience the glory. Accept me, I am yours!”
The thunderbolt that struck Sam lit him up where he stood in a blinding glow of red. As he absorbed the hellfire, Sam shut his eyes, crossed his ankles and threw out his arms in a crucifix pose. He emitted a rapturous groan before dropping to the deck, exhausted and fulfilled.
The fishing boat continued to rock and twist violently at the mercy of powerful winds and thrashing waves. One by one, the four passengers lost consciousness, delirious and soaked, clinging to the deck.
When they awoke, the boat bobbed peacefully on calm waters under a sunny, clear sky. The island remained in sight, a dark mass blotting the turquoise sea.
Carol made the first noise. She giggled.
“I came,” she said.
A table of five shared drinks and laughter in a small, open-air bar in London, the main town on Kiritimati Island.
“More Russian vodka,” demanded Rodney to the young, smooth-skinned local woman who tended to the patrons. She nodded and left to fulfill the request.
“A request from Yuri,” explained Rodney to the others, thumping his chest.
Gary’s eyes followed the pretty island woman as she stepped behind the bar. “Later today I am going to fuck her and dispose of the body in the lagoon,” he declared in a calm monotone.
On the other end of the table, Carol and Sam listened to Louis tell his story of visiting the island for the first time on a fishing vacation in 2004.
“I had just left a bad marriage and quit a bad job,” said Louis. “I had a little money in the bank and I wanted to do something that was just for me. I had heard about the amazing fishing here, but it was something of a legend—not many people had actually been here. So I packed up my gear, withdrew most of my funds and treated myself to a dream vacation. And I loved it. I loved the island, the weather, and the incredible fishing. I loved the isolation. I realized I wanted to live here forever. I wanted to build a big house away from everybody else and live the good life. But I didn’t know how to do it. Then I saw the light.”
Anatomy of Evil Page 17
