Suffer Not Evil: A Florida Action Adventure Novel

by Scott Cook

  “Yes… and Doctor Campbell prescribed a protocol for Julius as well. It wasn’t long after this that the wife became pregnant. Still…”

  “Still, it seems odd that he’d father a son half a dozen years earlier and then had no tadpoles left for another one,” Jackie stated with a wry grin.

  Ellen chuckled, “Oh, Jackie… you’re such a Marine… but a valid point. Seems strange to me, as well.”

  “Any chance of a DNA test on any of them?” I asked.

  Ellen sighed, “Unfortunately not. We could probably do something now, but back then the technology was still new, and no samples were taken. I haven’t found anything else that’s relevant… except for one minor item.”

  I waited.

  “About six months ago,” Ellen went on. “Sarah Beth Bradford was checked into Lee County Memorial after a bicycling accident. She was hemorrhaging pretty badly, evidently, she’d nicked an artery in her leg. Well, everyone was visiting, I guess, because her uncle, brother and father all volunteered to give blood. Even the aunt by marriage… Natalie… and Veronica as well offered. What was odd, however, is that none of them had the same blood type, with the exception of Veronica. She and Sarah Beth both have type A. Veronica is a positive and Sarah Beth A negative, though.”

  “Is that unusual?” I asked. “I mean for neither her brother, uncle nor even father to have the same type?”

  A pause, “I’m no doctor, of course, but upon consultation with a physician here at the base… it’s not impossible. Generally, we get our blood types from our parents, like eye and hair color. However, I think there can be a tendency to favor the mother, as we develop in her body. Marcus and Andrew both have B negative. Julius had O negative, so maybe the mother had A type?”

  “Wow… thank you for this, Ms. Parker,” I said.

  “Call me Ellen, darlin’… and you’re welcome. I hope this helps.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes while I tried to process everything Ellen had said. Finally I looked over at Jackie.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

  “Chick-Fil-A?”

  I shook my head and chuckled, “Food? You’re thinking about food? Is that all you think about?”

  “No,” she said and winked, “I also think about pee-pees quite a bit.”

  “Pee-pees!?” I laughed. “Jesus…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry… hot throbbing love poles… is that better?”

  I only shook my head, “Sounds more like something a Marine would say.”

  “You’re thinking something is fishy in the Bradford pond, right?”

  “Exactly,” I said, biting my lower lip. “Lot of odd medical shit going on here, babe… I wonder what Marcus Bradford will say about it all?”

  “He’ll probably be all like, ‘Just an unfortunate set of coincidences, Ms. Gonzagos…’ and you’ll be all like, ‘I know you’re behind the evil scheme, Bradford…’ and he’ll be all like, ‘Blast! You’ve thwarted my evil plan, Ms. Gorzadlo!’”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? And who is Ms. Gonzagos?” I laughed.

  “You,” Jackie said. “You know his type. All you ethnics are the same to him.”

  “Wow… just… wow.”

  We found ourselves at the front gate to the Big B Ranch just after lunchtime. We did, in fact, stop at Chick-Fil-A.

  “Now what?” Jackie asked, staring at the closed gate.

  “What do you mean, now what?” I asked. “WE go in… what would you do without me?”

  “I’d sneak over the fence with a fire team,” Jackie said with a wry smile.

  “I like it,” I said. “But let’s try the subtle approach first.”

  Affixed to one of the uprights that held the large Big B Cattle Ranch sign thirty feet over the double-wide driveway and log gate was a call box. I got out and pressed the call button.

  “Jes?” came a thickly accented Hispanic woman’s voice.

  “Good afternoon,” I said charmingly. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Bradford, please.”

  A pause, “Do ju have the appointment?”

  Jackie had her window down and was smirking. I frowned at the box, “No I don’t, but I was hoping—“

  “Señor Bradford es no at la casa,” the box said in mild irritation. “Ju come back.”

  I grimaced, “Look here, chicita… I’m going to speak with Mr. Bradford, you understand? Now you can open this goddamned gate, or I’ll break it the fuck down!”

  “Pinche gringa…” the box muttered and then said: “Uno momento, por favor…”

  Jackie was laughing, “What did she call you?”

  “Basically a fuckin’ whitey,” I said. “Must’ve meant you, gringa.”

  “I doubt that,” Jackie replied. “I’m awfully sweet, and cute as a button.”

  After several momentos, the log gate swung open on electric motors, and I drove in and up to the front of the house. It was a big two-story place whose backyard appeared to look out over the Caloosahatchee River and a barn. The rest of the big ranch stretched out southward and we could see hundreds of cows roaming around.

  Jackie and I walked up to the front door, and it opened to reveal an attractive and slightly plump woman of about forty dressed in a classic maid’s outfit. She’d be even prettier, except for the scowl on her face, “I’m Juanita. You come.”

  “I’m Lisa Gonzalez,” I said. “Not a pinche gringa.”

  Jackie snickered and Juanita sniffed, turning her nose up and spinning on her heel. She marched us through the big house and out onto a covered patio. I was right; it looked over a nicely manicured lawn, horse barn and a dock along the river.

  “You wait, I tell Meester Bradford you here,” Juanita said imperiously.

  “Da, is good,” I said in a heavy Russian accent.

  “Oui, très bien,” Jackie Frenched.

  Juanita stalked off, muttering dark things in Spanish. It was quite a litany. Jackie looked at me and smirked.

  “We’re a couple of cock-gobbling whores,” I explained. “In case you were wondering.”

  “Pfft! No surprise there.”

  We waited for over half an hour. I was beginning to wonder if Juanita was just screwing with us when a pair of riders appeared near the far fence that separated the ranch house from the working part of the ranch. They were a couple of hundred yards away, but I could clearly see a man and a woman. They guided their horses through a turnstile and trotted up to the house, both jumping down and letting the palominos wander off to graze.

  They were both about the same height. The blonde woman was younger than the man, who was about sixty and fit. I’d seen pictures and knew that this was Marcus and his wife, Natalie. I also noted that there was a strong family resemblance between Marcus and his deceased brother and his nephew.

  “Good afternoon,” Marcus said, removing his black cowboy hat. “I’m Marcus Bradford, and this is my wife, Natalie. What can we do for you ladies?”

  “I’m Lisa Gonzalez, Scott Jarvis’ partner,” I said. “This is Gunnery Sergeant Jackie Stevvins, USMC and one of Scott’s… associates. We’ve come to discuss Veronica Bradford’s death.”

  The two sat in wicker rockers near us. Natalie sighed with sadness, and Marcus frowned. The wife removed her white cowboy hat and set it on her lap.

  “A tragedy,” Natalie offered. “I’m so sorry… but I thought Mr. Jarvis was guarding her?”

  “I was too” I said. “Along with four men… unfortunately and for reasons we don’t yet know, Veronica snuck away and went someplace. The next we saw of her… she was… was dead.”

  “My God…” Marcus muttered.

  “She always was so bullheaded,” Natalie stated. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful… but Veronica was just about the most headstrong woman I’ve ever known. If she’d stayed…”

  “Let’s not criticize, honey,” Marcus said, holding up a hand. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, after all. No matter what her reasons for bolting, we’ve lost Ro
nnie, and that’s a major blow to our family and to our company.”

  “Any idea who did it?” Natalie asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Scott caught the men. One was killed last night… and the other two were delivered to the police. However… while we have the people who performed the deed… we still don’t know who’s actually responsible for it.”

  “What does that mean?” Natalie asked innocently.

  Jackie exchanged a quick look with me, and I drew in a deep breath. This was the moment where it was time to drop the polite act and start swinging. Scott was good at this. I had a harder time. For one, it always bothered me to lay into people, at least without provocation. It went against the grain. Scott said I’d get used to it, though.

  “Forgive me,” I said, leaning in slightly, “but I think we all know that Veronica suspected one of her associates was behind all of this. The men who did the job were in no way connected. They were hired talent.”

  “Have they named any names?” Marcus asked coolly. Had to admire his fortitude.

  “Not yet,” I said. “But I have to think that at least one of them will roll on their boss. As I said, they’re hired talent. This isn’t a matter of honor with them. They’re looking at premeditated murder charges in Florida, where we still have the death penalty. I can’t imagine them going to the chair just to protect somebody who paid them to do a job.”

  “That’s assuming they know who hired them,” Marcus pointed out.

  “True,” I admitted. “But that’s what Scott’s looking into now. With his talents and resources… he’ll uncover that information. I honestly don’t think we have to look too far, either. In cases like this, the first and best course is to follow the money. Who benefits from her death?”

  That one struck a nerve. Bradford’s veneer of calm faltered slightly, but his wife’s nearly collapsed completely. She actually got to her feet and glared at me with hands on hips.

  “What are you saying?” Natalie snapped. “That one of us is the real killer?”

  Jackie cocked an eyebrow at me but said nothing. I got the feeling she was really enjoying herself. I met Natalie’s eyes with my own glare.

  “Let’s face it, Mrs. Bradford,” I stated. “With Veronica gone, the Bradfords now control BA. Your husband will probably become CEO. With Veronica gone, no one stands in the way of taking the company public, as you all seem to want. There’s no point in pretending that isn’t true.”

  “So just because we might benefit, that automatically means we’re guilty?” Marcus asked coldly.

  “It certainly raises some questions,” I said. “You, Andrew and Sarah Beth… and Mr. Franklin all move up the line. It’s no secret that you all and Veronica differed on many points of policy. It’s an easy connection to make. We’ve made it, the police will make it and no doubt the Feds will too.”

  “Feds?” Natalie asked.

  “Your company operates under several DOD contracts,” Jackie stated. “Such events will no doubt trigger an FBI investigation. Standard procedure. It’s possible you’ll be investigated on an even higher level as well.”

  “Well, if you happen to have some proof,” Marcus said with just a hint of haughtiness. “I’d like to see it. Otherwise, you’re simply making statements that are libelous. If you or your partner or anyone accuses us of a capital crime without proof, I can assure you that our corporate lawyers will come down on you like a ton of bricks, young lady. And I’ll do my damndest to have your licenses pulled.”

  “Bradford,” I said sternly. “Things aren’t that easy. Especially when it comes to Scott Jarvis. He’s far better connected than you can realize. It will take more than a murder suspect who complains about being suspected to have Scott’s, or even my, license pulled. He will figure out which of you is behind this. My suggestion would be to tell me anything you know now, before it’s too late.”

  I really wanted to flash the badge that Colonel Grayson had given me. I also wanted Jackie to flash hers. Then we’d tell them just how fucked they really were… but for some reason, I held back. Not sure why, but at the time I thought it might be the best thing to do at that moment.

  Natalie scoffed, “Is that a threat?”

  I speared her with a hard stare, “Scott’s very committed to this, and he has virtually unlimited resources.”

  “I think you’ve wasted enough of our time,” Marcus said, rising.

  “Tell me about Veronica’s baby,” I suddenly blurted.

  “What?” Marcus asked. He did a great Casper impression.

  “What baby?” Natalie barked.

  “Oh, please… the day your niece was born, Mr. Bradford, Veronica was in the same hospital with appendicitis,” I said, getting to my feet as well. “But we all know she didn’t have appendicitis.”

  “That’s enough!” Marcus all but roared. “You get the hell off my property, right now!”

  “You can make me leave, but it doesn’t stop the truth,” I said. “And it won’t stop Scott Jarvis when he comes for you.”

  “Get the hell out of here this instant or we’ll phone the sheriff!” Natalie yelled.

  We left.

  As we got into my SUV and buckled up, Jackie looked over at me and smiled, “Real smooth, ambassador.”

  “What, you didn’t like the way I schmoozed them?” I asked.

  Jackie chuckled, “Jesus Christ… what happened to subtlety?”

  “Meh.”

  25

  Interlude: The Predator, Three

  The previous evening, 11:00 p.m. mountain time

  Veronica Bradford’s, or perhaps more aptly now, Bradford Avionics’ Gulfstream 500 had been fully fueled when the man in black surprised Jean Belmar. It was, therefore, only a matter of filing a flight plan for a round trip to Wyoming and back and a few hours of flying time. He knew that while the flight up would be no problem, the return flight in the wee hours of the morning might be a bit taxing… especially if the evening’s events proved more than usually energetic.

  The plane lifted off from Albert Whitted and was soon racing across the Gulf of Mexico at close to the speed of sound. The autopilot was engaged and the man in black made certain that Jean was secure in one of the rear seats. The knockout hypo he’d given her wouldn’t last even as long as the nearly three-hour flight, so he’d had to handcuff her wrist to one of the seat’s armrests. He’d have preferred it if she’d helped him, yet he wasn’t particularly surprised that she hadn’t. It complicated things, but when hadn’t his mission… any mission… been complicated.

  It would be further complicated when he arrived at the BA landing field at approximately seven in the evening, local time. The airstrip closed at six, although they would certainly open it for the corporate plane. However, they’d expect Jean to be calling, or perhaps the co-pilot who’d stayed in Saint Pete. Luckily, however, that could be dealt with via a series of emails sent ostensibly from Jean’s private address. The field was alerted to the fact that she was coming in and would arrive at a certain time. She needed to land and would like to forget the procedures. The controller responded and said that was no problem, as the strip was closed anyway.

  A bit underhanded and impossible without some very high-tech interference… but accomplished all the same.

  In the meantime, the man was pleased to find that the tiny galley held a variety of food items as well as coffee and several quality liquors. These he forewent, wanting to keep his head clear. However, he did start a pot of coffee and placed two heat and eat meals in the small auto-oven.

  It was odd, sitting in the pilot’s seat and sipping coffee and eating a chicken pot pie and a Salisbury steak with potatoes and green beans while a computer guided the plane along at six-hundred seventy-five miles per hour over fifty-thousand feet in the air. Even the highest flying commercial traffic was well over a mile below.

  After his meal, the man closed his eyes and dozed for an hour or so. It had been a long day, what with capturing Otter and Baby Back and the dastardly doc
tor. Then speeding down the intracoastal all the way to southwest Florida and then back again, a trip of six hours no less. Now here he was, jetting across the country on another retrieval mission.

  He was running on anger and doggedness for the most part. He knew that sooner rather than later, his body would require some serious rest. He simply wasn’t sure he could afford it, at least not until after he returned to Florida.

  He was grateful that he had help, even if it were only a few people and they were acting somewhat beyond their authority. Or outside the law. There was little choice, however. This must be resolved. He owed her that much at least.

  He was jolted awake from a disturbing dream. In it, a bloody and pale Veronica was questioning him. Why hadn’t he prevented her death? He tried to protest. He tried to explain that if she hadn’t snuck away, it wouldn’t have happened.

  “But you don’t understand… I had to,” she said. “I had to know… are you going to check that radar or what?”

  The tinny little proximity alarm took a few seconds to pierce his unconscious mind, and he suddenly found himself fully awake. A quick check showed that it was only an aircraft ten thousand feet below that would cross the Gulfstream’s path on an east to west trajectory. When Jean mumbled something and called out his name, he gave the autopilot one more cursory glance and headed aft.

  Jean’s eyes were open but a bit unfocused. The man gave her a small cup of water and told her to lie back quietly.

  “Where are we?” she asked groggily.

  “Somewhere over Missouri, I’d say,” he answered.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What’s necessary,” he replied and stared into her eyes with steel in his gaze. “You need to be quiet, Jean. I will not allow any interference. I’d prefer not to knock you out again, but I will if I have to.”

  “They’re going to know something’s up at the tower when we try to land,” she said.

  He smiled very thinly, “That’s been taken care of… by you.”

  She blinked and suddenly felt a little cold. Her body shivered uncontrollably, “Who are you?”