Stealing Flowers

by Edward St Amant

  “Likewise, dad, I’m sure,” Josh said good-naturedly.

  We took Silent Righteousness inside and taped him into a wooden chair beside Proud Punishment. He wore a plain white t-shirt with the slogan, Christ’s Warriors, printed in large faded letters along the front.

  “This place is a pigsty,” Ray said aloud. Cheesy velvet textured paintings of Jesus Christ and the Madonna and Child donned the greasy yellow walls. Useless or broken furniture cluttered the room. Along with the smell of body odor, the house reeked of bacon, burnt toast, and tobacco. I stood in front of Silent Righteousness. He knew who I was. I could see it in his eyes. I saw he recognized Yan as well. To everyone’s surprise, I pulled out my gun and stuck it in his face. “You’re not getting out of here alive without a full confession.” I was emotional.

  “Put that away,” Peter said loudly.

  The Police were setting everything up in a back room. Ray left shaking his head and when they had everything set to go, Peter found a chair and sat in front of the two men with his briefcase behind him on the floor. Yan, and I stood behind Peter. Ray came back in the room.

  “Be careful to follow my instructions,” Peter said, “if not for the sake of Rick Edwards, then, certainly for Sally Tappet.”

  I watched as the color drained out of their faces. “Who are you?” Silent Righteousness asked.

  “I’m Detective Peter Burgess. Did you think the Tappet Family wouldn’t send someone after you?”

  “Don’t you know who I work for, you’d better think on it!”

  Peter chuckled derisively. “Who do you work for?”

  “For God.”

  “You work for Satan, fool, and his name is Moses Truth, a.k.a. David Moses, a.k.a., David Zortichii; his assistant, George Roger, a.k.a., Ezekiel Observance is being arrested today. The game is up.”

  A minute of silence followed and Peter pretended to read something from his briefcase. “In serious criminal cases where there are numerous perpetrators involved,” he said, “the first one who talks is the first one who walks. You two can talk together or apart.”

  For the next five minutes Peter disclosed the evidence mounted against the Hostility Branch in the deaths of Rick Edwards, Barry Wall, Anna Chapati, and Sally Tappet. When he finished, I saw that they were close to breaking. “We’ll leave you two in private to discuss it,” he said and rose. “I can’t promise you anything specific, but if you gave full disclosure, answered our questions, and swore to testify in court, John Ruben of the NYPD, and his friend in the LAPD, Lieutenant Tony Kray, will make sure you won’t be charged with first degree murder.” We joined the two police officers. The small bedroom contained little furniture except blotted mattresses, so that they weren’t too crammed. “What do you think?” Peter asked.

  Nick shrugged. “It’s coming through well.”

  Tony smiled. “Is that what you meant?” Peter shook his head. “They haven’t asked for a lawyer,” Tony observed, “that’s something.”

  “Let’s see what we can get,” Peter said, “an admission here might get me confessions from Blood Justice and Swift Retribution in New York City.” We returned to the living room. “Will you talk?” Peter said. They both nodded. Relief washed over me and I felt very emotional, wiping the tears from my eyes out of their sight. I realized that it was almost over. Again, how wrong that proved to be. “What’s your birth name?” Peter said to Proud Punishment.

  “Charlie Falken.”

  “And yours?”

  “Rob Tuck.”

  “Who killed Rick Edwards?”

  “Swift Retribution planned it,” Proud Punishment said, “and he’s the one who shot him.”

  “Silent Righteousness, do you concur?”

  “Yes, it was Swift Retribution who shot Rick Edwards.”

  “Are there other people whose murders have been caused by The Hostility Branch of the Family of Truth?”

  They looked over at each other. “Yes,” they both answered.

  “Barry Wall?” Again they both answered yes. “Anna Chapati?” They both answered yes a third time. “Where’s her body buried?”

  “Underneath a dilapidated barn on an abandoned farm near Sedgewick Creek just out of Lakewood, Colorado,” Proud Punishment volunteered. “Swift Retribution strangled her.”

  “Do either of you know anything about the death of Cheryl Garland and Graham Roberts?” They both shook their heads and said no. “Two LAPD officers are going to come in and read you your Miranda Rights. They’ll take statements and make recordings. Do we have your cooperation?

  “Yes,” they both said in unison.

  Yan stepped up before them and began to take the tape off their arms and legs. “You’ll never regret this,” he said, “and you’ll finally get some help. Moses Truth is completely evil and has broken every commandment that Moses brought to mankind from the Lord.”

  The detectives came in. Josh and I stepped out of the room and gave each other a bear-hug. “Let’s go and get the rest,” he whispered.

  Using all my self-control, I stopped myself from crying. The next days went by torturously slow, but word came that Ezekiel Observance, Swift Retribution, and Proud Punishment were presently in Denver, hiding at the Compound. Now they were wanted men. I was almost happy.

  By Sunday 17th we were ready and a shiver went through me as we approached the back roads which led to the Woodlands. I looked over at Peter who sat beside me in the back seat. Josh drove and Yan sat in the front-passenger’s seat. The Family of Truth was truly an evil institution, but why did otherwise rational people join? What was it about the allure of a simple life of mystic servility, poverty and rigidity that was so appealing to them? The scary thing was that on some psychological level, it appealed to many people. Martin Luther, the first leader of the Protestant Reformation, wrote, ‘Whoever wants to be a Christian, should tear out the eyes of his reason.’ Rick Edwards had told me one time that when you deprogram a cult member, you’re forcing them to think for themselves. If you force them to think about things that they aren’t programmed to respond to, then the formula breaks down and they’re forced to use their own critical, mental processes.

  “Are you okay?” Peter asked.

  I nodded and Peter looked at his watch. “These people raped and murdered your sister,” Yan said. “You know what they say, Christian. I think it’s a French expression. Evil in one, evil in all.”

  We followed two unmarked Police cars carrying Detective John Ruben of the NYPD, Tony Kray of the LAPD, and other veteran officers. Behind them, trailed three black and white cruisers. They had warrants to search the complete Woodlands Compound and arrest Ezekiel Observance, Swift Retribution, and Proud Punishment. I sat up as we took the final turn toward the front gate. The metal fence, higher than before, had been re-fortified with even more barbed-wire on top, perhaps now nine feet high. Maybe from the inside, it seemed a fortress against the forces of the devil: Industry, capitalism, freedom, liberalism, personal responsibility, and democracy; abstract institutions which weak-minded, weak-willed, and non-productive people look at with suspicion, but from the outside it looked like a concentration camp. At the gate, the police were let straight through. Recruits were everywhere, hundreds of them.

  “They’re not selling flowers today,” I said disappointed. “They’ve stayed behind. They’ve been tipped off.”

  Peter looked over. “Don’t be let down, Christian, but I did that,” he said. “We’ve men watching the place. I hoped our three suspects would make a dash for it and we could get them out of the Compound to avoid violence, but, no matter. We’ll get them anyway.”

  We drove up to the first building and the police cars all emptied. Several elders approached the veteran detectives and became involved in a heated conversation with them. One elder was nearly shouting at us. I saw Yan and Peter heading for the Elder’s residence and followed them. Josh stepped up beside me. We approached the main house and a group of young recruits blocked our way.

  “No one
looks armed,” Peter noted.

  I stepped up and was about to say something, when such a loud persistent chorus of boos erupted around me that I was unable. Josh came forward and laughed hardily as though to mock them. He took out his gun in a provocative manner, then shot it into the air. This was followed by their complete attention. The police from the reception house raced forward to our position. I could hear Peter cursing his son under his breath. “Christian Tappet’s sister lived here for some time,” Josh shouted at them. “You owe it to yourselves to listen to a few words.” He stepped back. “Go get them, Christian.”

  “Every cent you earn goes to Moses Truth in Zurich, or to his holding company, The Zortichii Group,” I shouted, “an industrial-based conglomerate which serves the greed of one of the most evil men America has ever produced, David Moses, who was born David Zortichii.”

  A burst of heckles rose with shouts of, “Liar!”

  I could see that Peter and Yan had stepped away from the group guarding the Elder’s residence and entered from the back. Two more black and white cars had pulled up behind me. “I know many of you here want to live a life serving Christ,” I shouted even louder, “and I hope you will. When my beautiful sister came here to the compound, they made her work and live there in the Elder’s residence behind you with five Elders, who administrated this place. She cleaned and served them. They brutally raped her, when she refused their sexual advances. These five men later changed their names and became members of The Hostility Branch. They’re the men who killed Rick Edwards, the famous anti-cult deprogrammer, who one time kidnapped my sister. When she filed suit against The Family of Truth for the harm done at this very compound, they murdered her. Ezekiel Observance ordered it on behalf of Moses Truth. They also murdered Barry Wall and Anna Chapati. These are the reasons why their arrests are taking place today.”

  I’d moved others to actually listen and focus on my words, but others called out limply, ‘Liar,’ or mumbled, ‘Satan-lover!’ I saw that Blood Justice had been taken into custody, now escorted out under heavy police guard. Blood Justice was the former Grave Revelation, the creepy one. I looked at the recruits who still stood before me and immense pity came over me. I wanted to tell them to go home and hug their parents whom they had been told to hate. I wanted to tell them how horrible their mistake was, but I knew it would be futile. Yan came up beside me.

  “Swift Retribution isn’t in the compound,” he whispered, and then looked up over the crowd of recruits. “A few of the recruits today will leave because of what you just said, the rest will go when they’re ready. If someone’s not around to kidnap, deprogram, and watch you until you’re safely out of their reach, you lose a good part of your life to it – I did!”

  A tall thin teenage male approached us and reached out to shake my hand. “I guess that you’re right,” I said. “A few of them were listening.”

  When I returned home, we celebrated.

  Three days later, on Wednesday, July 22 we formally presented our new evidence to the prosecutor’s office using Fats Cramer. Brad, Peter, and Stan came with me. I was surprised to see how intently the homicide investigators listened to the tape of Silent Righteousness and Proud Punishment’s confessions while reading the documentation from The Zortichii Group. In fact we gathered quite a little crowd. I found myself so excited that I could barely hear a single word. Fats Cramer kept raising his large head to look at me with glee. Brad on the other hand sat beside him visibly angry. Although the murder charges against me had been withdrawn on Monday, the District Attorney had been uncooperative and unapologetic. He’d also kept us waiting this morning. This made me angry as well, but I was so happy that it was hard to feel any other emotion. The Prosecutor’s office was behaving childishly. I knew Fred Newel and Denzil Burch were behind it. From the first, they were overly zealous in their pursuit of me. But why? Cramer passed a file to his partner, a young man with a military haircut and broad shoulders.

  “Look at that one,” he said. “I told them over and over.” He turned to me, while scanning computer readouts. “Peter did good, kid, he’s saved your hide.”

  “I think so too,” I said and looked at Peter with a big smile. “What are those?”

  “It’s the electronic data on Swift Retribution, a.k.a. Thought Jacob and a. k. a., Tim Daniel – that’s the name he’s running under now – I got this from the Feds. They think he’s involved in some abortion clinic bombing and that The Hostility Branch of The Family of Truth has hooked up with the Extreme Christian Fringe.”

  Denzil Burch arrived a few minutes later and planted himself in the middle of the room. He stared belligerently at me. I could feel my cheeks flush. “What are you doing in our offices?” he said. “You can wait in Visitors with everyone else. You’re a convicted murderer, for God’s sakes, and you’re not going to be treated like a celebrity.”

  I jumped up and sucker-punched him in the face. He took the hit hard and I think I broke his nose, however, he jumped right back up onto his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth and wanting to box it out. Brad and Fats restrained us from any further altercation. “You’ll be sorry you did that,” he said.

  “If I ever see you in my life again,” I shouted back, “you’ll be the one who’s sorry. All the charges have been dropped. Look at the evidence. We’ve done it all for you, you incompetent buffoon.”

  I jerked myself away from Brad and straightened out. “From the beginning,” Denzil retorted, “I knew that you’d spend your way out of it.”

  I threatened to rush him again and he jumped back cowardly. “You’re one of them,” I said, shocked at my own words, but knowing it at once. He was one of them, or was on their payroll.

  “You’re the one who killed your sister,” he said. “No conspiracy theory can explain the amount of evidence against you.”

  “Have you gone mad?” Brad said.

  “Mr. Burch,” Detective Cramer added, “I would like you to leave the office.”

  He frowned and left. I took in a deep breath. “The evidence against me was overwhelming,” I said softly, “and conspiracy theories are always convoluted and hard for people to buy, especially this one. Who’ll believe that a religious cult united with a long-time Tappet Executive to join in-league with an international corporate spy agency? On the face of it, it’s absurd. Sure they’re connected around Sally and me, and both the Cult and Zortichii are the same, but how many will believe it?”

  “We’ll make them believe,” Brad said.

  Fats nodded in encouragement. I looked at them both and smiled, but was skeptical. I knew that most people would never believe I was innocent. That day, I visited Sally and my mother’s gravesites, laying flowers for both and telling them about Susan and how I could soon put it all behind me. Even in my heart, I felt it was over. I was free again, and Susan and I started to talk of marriage. Since the four cult members we had captured testified that Swift Retribution, a.k.a., Thought Jacob, a.k.a., Tim Daniels, was the actual trigger man in all the killings, we kept Peter on the payroll. He in turn, had Josh hunting Tim Daniels full time. I received a letter from Yan two days later. He informed me that Bobby Stevens, the cult’s most famous recruit and the son of the famous Senator, Al Stevens of Washington, had committed suicide.

  Within months, I took over Tappets’ day to day functions, with Una, Stan, and Mary, on call for advice. My first real day in charge, we fired the personnel involved with the embezzlement scheme, even the Stanroids.

  It felt good to get back to work, and the weeks flew by, and summer passed. I heard nothing from Peter and my mind turned to other things. We were thinking of selling all our Japanese operations, and an offer had been made on Factory Bright that I was sure Stan and Mary would accept in the weeks ahead.

  The First Law of Life disappeared from my radar screen. To be frank, I no longer believed in it, nor God, nor magic, nor any other indistinct force, but The First Law of Life, for suckers like me, was in full force, laughing, all the time, laughing . . .
and waiting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  October turned into November, and I hardly noticed the first snows. Every second day, I was on a plane. Josh phoned me from the Port Authority near lower Manhattan one Wednesday morning, the 11th with news on Tim Daniels, the former Thought Jacob. I was in the car with Susan, just leaving the mansion to Teterboro Airport. Once we were inside the building, he directed me with his cell until Susan spotted him. We shook hands. I could see he wasn’t happy about Susan’s presence.

  “I’m trailing him right now,” he said. “The thing is, I have him in my sights at long last and hate to lose him. Susan could take the car and head for home. I would feel better.”

  “Where is he?” she asked before we agreed on it.

  “Turn slowly and look down into the concourse,” Josh said. “Do you see the man on the fourth bench over, in the red jacket, black toque, and a small black duffle bag?”

  I shook my head and we all leaned over the railing scanning the people for a red jacket. He’d gone. “Keep your hands in view,” a voice hissed from behind. I felt a pistol pushed hard into my side. He grabbed Susan by the arm. “Move!” He indicated the direction with a nod of his head, and half-shoved Josh and I into a restricted maintenance area which posted signs for employees and work crews only. He forced the three of us up against several locked doors and searched Josh and I for weapons, finding Josh’s gun.

  “Who else is here following me?” he said to Josh, staring at him with hatred.

  “Following you?” Josh said.

  “I know who you are,” he said.

  “Turn yourself in,” I said stupidly. He hit me in the face with his gun. I fell to my knees and my nose began to bleed profusely. I saw stars and did everything I could to stop myself from fainting. Blood covered the front of my shirt and Tim put the gun to my head. “Who is with you?” he repeated with a hiss. He hit me again with the pistol and I fell hard to the floor. “You made a mistake in following me.” He turned to Josh. “Who’s with you?”