Sara let go of John’s arm, taking his hand instead. She knew never to interrupt him when he was thinking. He said, “We’re going to talk to Howard about who in his law firm has something so deep to hide that ‘she’ would be willing to kill over it.”
Chris had his head half-cocked and said, “I don’t get it. You think Cohen knows who the killer is?”
John looked at Sara and then at Karen, who had gotten out of the pool and was drying off. “I don’t know that he knows the killer’s identity, but I have a feeling that he has some folks at his firm with a lot to hide. I also think that the killings and the calls to him are more than just someone looking to hurt him. I think they have a deeper and darker side to them.”
John was walking off with Sara when Chris called out to him and said, “Tell me when murder doesn’t have a deeper, darker side to it, John. That’s not a goddamn revelation if you ask me.” Sara and John had long disappeared when Karen put her arms around his waist.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Chris turned around to see Karen’s beautiful face staring up at him and asked what she meant. She took his hand and started to walk him toward his guest house, and as she did, she said with her back to him, “That wasn’t John Swenson you were talking to, Chris. You were talking to the Iron Eagle. Something clicked in John’s mind, and Swenson was gone, and the Eagle was the one talking.”
As they walked down the path to his guest house, there were two security guards standing off the pathway. Chris pressed a remote on his key ring, and the lights came on in the house. He stopped in the living room and looked at her and asked, “You don’t think that John and this Iron Eagle thing is just a little creepy and psychologically abnormal?”
Karen sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her, and Chris sat down next to her. She looked at him and said, “Is John’s behavior ‘normal?’ There’s no such thing as normal, Chris. Is John dangerous? Oh, hell yes. He’s dangerous and deadly. However, he has so perfectly split the personality of the Eagle from his own that the two just don’t cross hemispheres.”
“Are you telling me that you believe that John Swenson and the Iron Eagle are really two separate people?”
Karen nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you, and the Iron Eagle has a whiff of something and will be working behind the scenes in John’s mind until he figures it out.”
“Doesn’t that scare the hell out of you?”
Karen stood up while laughing and said, “Not in the least. I have known John a lot longer than you, and I know the Eagle. And in all honesty, I sleep better at night knowing that John and the Eagle are one and the same.”
Chris looked up at her and asked, “Why the hell would you feel safer?”
“Because if push came to shove and I was in trouble, the Iron Eagle would move heaven and earth to find and protect me. And if, God forbid, I’m lost to some killer … I know that killer will face justice that is a thousand times more brutal than anyone can imagine.”
Chris got up off the couch and walked behind Karen, who had dropped her robe and was walking seductively in front of him. He just shook his head as the two entered the bedroom and said, “I wish I felt that confident, Karen. Working with John and the Eagle has brought out a side in me that I never knew existed, and there are a lot of days and sleepless night sweat terror nights when I regret ever coming into his world.”
Chapter Nine
“We all have our price.”
Saul Winston was dripping with sweat. He stripped off the leather gear he had been wearing and stood with a small tray of S&M toys, looking into Terry’s eyes as he took an inch and a quarter needle and unsealed it from its sterile wrapper. Terry’s breasts were resting on a piece of wood in front of the cross that she was bound to, and Saul smiled as he pulled on Terry’s left nipple and pierced it with the needle. There were tears in Terry’s eyes as the needle was pressed all the way through the nipple and stopped only by the plastic twist connector for the syringe. Saul looked down at her in a seated position on an S&M cross. Her arms were outstretched on the X-shaped device and restrained at the wrists with tight leather wraps that were cutting off the circulation to her hands. Her fingers were blue, and Saul reached up and loosened the restraints.
Her legs were spread, and her ankles restrained with leather and steel chains. Saul had stitched her vagina shut with black thread, and there were needles nailing her thighs into small pieces of wood. Her breasts had both been nailed to the wood just beneath her, and the needles were sticking into and through her breasts and nipples as well as her tongue, which was held out with a steel clip that was affixed to a board. Saliva dripped from her mouth, and she was unable to speak.
Saul looked at her teary eyes and pulled out six knitting needles and said, “Are you ready to feel some real pain?” Terry nodded her head slowly as Saul pushed the first needle through her right breast.
She squirmed and then said as best she could, “Good God, Saul. Please. Not too deep. You’ll pierce my implants again. Remember how much that cost you?” He nodded as he pressed the second needle through her other breast and then slapped her hard across the face.
One of the three woman was still strapped by the wrists and ankles to Saul’s ‘fuck board.’ The youngest was weeping while kicking her feet as an oversized dildo was strapped across her back and pushed deep in her vagina. The other two were on their knees in front of Terry, moving between sucking Saul’s cock and licking Terry’s red swollen vagina.
Saul had just pressed the third needle through Terry’s breast when his cell phone rang. It was sitting on a leather box full of whips and other bondage and S&M tools, and he looked at Terry and said, “Just hold your tongues, the bunch of you. I need to take this call.”
The air was cool, and the room pitch black as Janet began to rouse. She was laying on something soft, but she had no idea what it was or where she was. She called out, but there was no response. She went to stand up but fell back. Her head was throbbing, and she leaned over and threw up on the floor. She was moaning and crying when a female voice cut through the darkness.
“You really tied one on last night. I’m surprised you’re even awake.”
Janet laid her head down and asked, “Who are you? Where am I?”
“All will be revealed in time, Mrs. Winston. All in time.”
Janet called out, “Jesus Christ! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my husband is?”
“Yes, Mrs. Winston, I do, and you have been less than a loving, caring, or even faithful wife to your husband.”
“What the fuck do you know about our lives? We’re swingers, bitch. Why do you think he married a former porn actress? I had connections. Saul could get anyone he wanted through my connections. You want to know who’s a sick fuck? It’s Saul. You don’t know him like I know him. He likes to hurt women.”
The room was silent for a while then the woman spoke again. “Your husband’s tastes run to the exotic. I’m aware of that, but he does nothing illegal. His sexual appetite is always fed with the consent of his partners.”
Janet let out a laugh and said, “If cash is consent, then you’re right, bitch, because the only way Saul gets consent is with cash. Lots and lots of it.”
“We all have our price.”
Janet sat up and asked, “Who the fuck are you? How do you know so much? I want to see your face.” The lights came up in the room, and Janet looked around while trying to allow her eyes to adjust. She moved her head from side to side but saw only a few windows that were covered with blinds. The room was a sterile white. She looked harder as her eyes adjusted, and that’s when she saw the figure standing near the door and started laughing. “It’s you. Why am I not surprised? So … what now?”
Her captor walked over to the couch and slapped her hard across the face. She walked back to the door and said as she locked Janet inside, “I don’t know yet, Janet. I ha
ven’t decided what I’m going to do with you.”
As the door slammed shut, Janet screamed, “You kidnapped me, you psycho bitch. Saul is going to lose his fuckin’ mind if he doesn’t hear from me today.”
It was nine a.m. when John and Chris arrived at their office at the federal building. They were both dressed in blue jeans and FBI polo shirts. One of the field agents in the bullpen called out to them and asked, “Hey, Agent Swenson. Are you and Chris dating? You two are twins.” John laughed as Chris sneered, and the two men walked on to John’s office.
The phone on John’s desk was ringing when he walked in, and he grabbed the receiver and said, “Swenson.” The room was quiet as he listened, and Chris sat down across from him. When he hung up the phone, he said, “You’re never going to guess who that was?” Chris shrugged. “Howard Cohen. He wants to meet with us at his office.”
“When?”
“Right now.” John pulled his cell phone off his hip and dialed Jim.
“O’Brian.”
“Guess who just called me and asked for a meeting at his office?”
Jim was sitting at his desk at the LA County Sheriff’s office and said, “Oh, I don’t know. Howard Cohen?”
John nodded as he said, “Yep.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Jim saw Sam walking past his office door and called to her, “Sam, get your ass downstairs. We’re meeting John and Chris at Howard Cohen’s office. Apparently, he wants to chat.” Sam looked on and nodded as she walked down the hall. Jim said, “I’m on my way to Cohen’s office. Do you have any more information on the leads you have been developing on the Caldwell murder?”
John said, “We can talk about that later. Right now, we need to talk to Cohen. I have a feeling he might be in confession mode.” Jim hung up the line and grabbed his coat and left the office. John hung up and said, “Let’s go, Chris. If Cohen wants to meet and talk, we need to strike while the iron is hot.”
Chris stood up and asked, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s going to go mute.”
John laughed and said, “You might be a lawyer, but you haven’t practiced law. When a lawyer calls the cops and says he wants to talk, there’s a better than average chance that between the time he made the call and us arriving he could do a one-eighty and suddenly ‘forget’ what he wanted to talk about.” Chris shrugged as he followed him out of the office and to the bank of elevators heading for the lobby.
Howard Cohen was sitting in his private law library in his apartment typing on his laptop. The mahogany bookcases and oxblood leather furniture gave the library an old world feel. The windows were long and thin around the room and glazed to keep out direct sunlight. The hanging lights were low, so the precious manuscripts held on the shelves would not be destroyed by light or the elements. Howard flipped his right wrist to look at the time on his hundred-thousand-dollar custom Rolex. It was ten fifteen, and he was typing with a fury. He stopped and looked around the office. His eyes were red and his face streaked with tears as he took in the sights of this one place in his home and firm where he felt safe and able to escape the trappings of the world.
He stood up and pulled a copy of “The Common Law” by Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. from a shelf behind his desk as well as “An Essay on Crimes and Punishment” by Cesare Bonesana Beccaria and placed them next to him on his desk. He walked the room slowly, touching volume after leather backed volume. His thick skinned fingers stopping on the most recent edition of the California Penal Code. He opened it to Section 92–100. Howard pressed the enter button on the keyboard, and a small laser printer began to hum behind him. It took several minutes for the document to print, and when it had finished, he read it over carefully then took out a fountain pen from the mahogany desk drawer and signed the final page.
Chapter Ten
“Secrets, John. Deep,
dark, terrifying secrets.”
Jim and Sam were standing near their cruiser smoking cigarettes in front of Howard Cohen’s office when John and Chris pulled up. As John got out of the truck, Jim asked, “Are you ever going to take that thing over to be modified?”
John looked at the truck and then Jim and said, “Just as soon as I have a week when I don’t need the truck and feel like bouncing around in a damn Ford P.O.S.”
Sam started laughing and looked at Chris and asked, “What type of vehicle do you drive, Chris?”
Chris looked at John and said, “A Ford Crown Victoria.”
Jim let out a laugh and said, “Jesus Christ! We stopped using those cars years ago. Does Ford even make them anymore?” John shook his head, which made Jim laugh even louder. John frowned, and Jim stubbed out his cigarette and asked, “So, what does Cohen want with us?”
John shrugged and said, “I have no idea. He just called me on my cell and asked if I would please come over to his office.”
Sam asked, “Were we invited?”
John nodded and said, “Yes … by me. Now, let’s go.”
Jim was walking behind him and said, “You got that mother fuckin’ right. If a lawyer the caliber of Cohen wants to talk to the feds, you get your ass to his office before he changes his mind.” There were head nods all around as they approached the front desk.
John went to pull out his ID when the security guard at the front desk said, “Mr. Cohen is expecting you, Agent Swenson. Please go right up.” The security guard called for one of the attendants who led the group to a single elevator set off from the rest. He pressed the call button, and the elevator doors opened and the four stepped in. The attendant pressed the button for the penthouse then stepped out of the elevator as the doors closed.
There were four thick white envelopes in Saul Winston’s dresser in the master bedroom. He instructed each of the women to line up, and he handed each an envelope and said, “There is more where that came from if you decide to be my playmates again.” Only Terry remained as the other three women took the envelopes and ran out of the bedroom and out of the house.
Terry looked at Saul and said, “I don’t think they had as much fun as we did, sweetheart.” Saul sat down on the oversized king bed and put his head in his hands. Terry sat next to him and pressed her nude, bruised body against his and asked, “Are you okay? Who called earlier when we were in the dungeon?”
He looked over at her and said, “It was my private investigator whom I have had keeping tabs on Janet.”
Terry stood up and walked over to the full length mirror to survey the damage from the night before. She was lifting her large breasts and examining them in the bright morning sunlight and asked, “Why on earth would your private DICK be calling you so early in the morning?”
Saul looked up at Terry and said, “Someone grabbed Janet last night at a club off the Sunset Strip.”
Terry never looked away from the mirror as she said in an upbeat voice, “Well, I will be swollen for a day or two, and there won’t be any vaginal sex for a few days either, mister. You can fuck my ass. My mouth and throat are sore from the needles.”
He stared at her and asked, “Did you hear a word I just said?”
Terry nodded then turned to him and said, “It was going to happen sooner or later. I would guess that Janet fucked the wrong guy, and either he grabbed her, or she got picked up by a scorned wife.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, someone grabbed my ex because they think they can get a handsome ransom for her?”
Terry laughed as she walked into the master bath and started the shower. Saul followed as she checked the water temperature before getting in. Saul was nude, and he stepped into the shower behind her and asked, “Well?”
Terry was soaping up her body and then turned and started soaping up his. She asked without looking at him, “Has there been a ransom demand?” Saul shook his head. “How long ago was she grabbed?”
Saul looked up
at the ceiling as Terry lathered his cock and said, “I don’t know. Five or six hours.”
She laughed as Saul’s penis got harder and harder and said, “Well, until you get either a ransom demand or a dead body, I would guess that you should call the cops and let them deal with the situation. Either way, this could be a win-win for you.”
“How the hell could it be a win-win?”
Terry laughed and said, “If she’s dead, no spousal support, and your discovery shit is over. And if they demand a ransom …” Terry paused and looked up at Saul and said, “You wouldn’t pay it, would you?” Saul got a thoughtful look on his face and then shook his head. Terry said, “See? Win-win. You don’t pay, so they off her. I guess after our shower you better call the cops.”
Saul lathered up Terry breasts gently and said, “First, I call my attorney, Howard Cohen, then I call the cops.”
The elevator doors opened to Cohen’s private penthouse apartment. John stepped out first and the others followed. There was a pretty older woman standing near the elevator and before John could speak she said, “Agent Swenson, I presume.” John nodded. The woman looked on at the other three and said, “I don’t know that Mr. Cohen is expecting anyone other than you, Agent Swenson. Would your fellow officers please take a seat here in the waiting area? Mr. Cohen has instructed me to bring you to his private library.” Jim didn’t say a word, neither did Chris. Both men took a seat, and Sam stood with a befuddled look on her face as John followed the woman down the hall and around the corner out of sight.
Sam looked at Jim and Chris and asked, “What the shit? Are we supposed to sit here playing with ourselves while John talks to Cohen?”
Jim took a cigarette out of his top left pocket and put it in his mouth then lit it with his Zippo and took a hit off the smoke and said, “I have known Howard for a long time. He wants to talk to John, so let him talk to John. We’ll go in when Howard wants to talk to all of us.”
Phoenix Page 8
