Suffer Not Evil: A Florida Action Adventure Novel

by Scott Cook

  He placed a thin blanket over her, “No one to trifle with. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  The landing went smoothly. Radar indicated no other aircraft on the runway, and somebody had thoughtfully left the lights on the primary strip. The man brought the plane down and taxied to the far western end of the apron.

  “I’ve got to go,” he told Jean. “Please stay out of trouble.”

  “You’ve got me handcuffed, what can I do?” she asked.

  He nodded, “And that’s how you’ll stay, I’m afraid. Do you need to go to the head?”

  She nodded an affirmative. He unlocked the cuffs and allowed her to go into the tiny bathroom. He didn’t let her shut the door, however, but he did stand out of sight. Afterward, he secured her to the chair again, shut down the cabin lights and exited into the cool Wyoming night.

  “I don’t like it,” Andrew Bradford was saying as he rocked on his back porch.

  Sarah Beth sat next to him on a rocker of her own, “Well, what did you expect, Andy? Ronnie is dead, and there are gonna be questions.”

  “I’m talking about this private detective,” he grumbled. “First, this Jarvis guy shows up here a few days back, and before that, he was in LaBelle questioning Uncle Mark.”

  “So?”

  “So why is he?” he continued. “Apparently somebody, I guess Jarvis, delivered the two hitmen or whatever to the cops. So it ought to be over… but these people are still nosing around.”

  Sarah Beth laughed scornfully, “So fuckin’ let them! We’ve all got alibis… except maybe Uncle Mark. Hell, Andy, you and I are in Wyoming! I’m not worried.”

  He sighed, “SB, we don’t have to be in Florida to hire hitmen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude that with Ronnie gone, we all benefit financially.”

  Sarah Beth scoffed, “So what? That’s life. Ronnie needed to go, we all agreed on that, right? She had no business taking over our daddy’s company.”

  “Jesus, SB… you’d better not use that attitude should any law enforcement talk to you.”

  “Let them prove it!” Sarah Beth said, and then her face grew sad and her voice grew sullen. “I’m sorry she’s dead… none of us ever wanted that. Ronnie was a wonderful lady and our father loved her… but life has to go on. I’m so glad they caught those evil men… but what should we do? Close up shop? Veronica wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  Andrew actually cracked a small smile, “Better… well, my beer is empty, how about yours?”

  Sarah Beth grinned and held up her empty bottle, “I wouldn’t mind a refill. Just one more, though, it’s late.”

  “I’ll put these back under the horse, as dad used to say,” Andy offered with a little wistful chuckle.

  He took both bottles and went into the house. He was gone nearly three minutes. Sarah Beth found that odd at first but then smiled and realized he’d probably had to pee.

  Her phone rang. Odd at that time of night. She looked at the screen and saw that it was Andy. Why was he calling her from inside? She shrugged and accepted the call.

  “It’s time to face the music, Sarah Beth.”

  The strong male voice gave her pause. It wasn’t Andy. It seemed familiar but also gave her a little shiver. There was something cold in the way he’d spoken.

  “Who is this?” she brazened.

  “I know what you did. I know what your brother did. I know what your uncle did. You’ve all been very, very naughty, haven’t you?”

  “You,” she whispered. “What the hell do you want?”

  A long pause, “Maybe we should have a beer together, Sarah. Blue Moon Belgian. Good beer.”

  The call was disconnected. It took a second for her to realize that he’d named the very beer she and Andrew had been drinking. It took another moment for her to connect the dots. How could he have known that, unless…

  A soft step behind her. She hoped it was Andrew. She’d tell him that somebody was watching them through night vision goggles or something, momentarily forgetting it had been his phone that made the call. When she stood and turned, however, she nearly ran straight into a large man dressed all in black. She drew in a breath to scream, but the fear never found expression. Instead, the darkness of the plateau night closed in around her and drew her down.

  Even though it was after midnight, Wilfred Franklin couldn’t sleep. The house was quiet, but he couldn’t seem to rest. Instead, he sat on his back porch and stared out toward the Snowy Mountains far to the west. He couldn’t see them, of course, but he could see where the blanket of stars seemed to abruptly end further above the horizon than seemed natural.

  Veronica Bradford was dead. It had come as a shock to him, although upon further reflection, he supposed it wasn’t really that shocking. After all, someone had tried already, hadn’t they?

  The part that really stuck in his craw was that her death had solved certain problems for him. He felt no small amount of guilt on that account. Certainly she’d opposed his idea of going public, but that was hardly the end of his troubles.

  She’d been very smart and very shrewd. Lately, she’d been looking into all aspects of Bradford Avionics’ business, and she’d had questions about Franklin’s special projects. There had been no overt accusations, yet there would be an accounting. She’d wanted to know why there had been little or no return on the company’s investment. She wanted to see reports from the subsidiaries. Financial, operational and production. It was going to be a problem.

  Then fate had stage-managed the entire affair for him. The Bradfords would likely never ask the same questions. For all their high-level education, the kids weren’t nearly as savvy. Andrew was more of a technical head. Sarah Beth more of a hothead. God help them all should that girl ever be in charge.

  Marcus Bradford was no problem, either. Sure, he wanted the big chair, but he was more passive about business. He’d be happy just cruising along, or even letting Franklin handle the IPO.

  That was fine by Franklin, because once done, he’d be in a position to take charge himself. A position he deserved and that he’d worked for years. Although he and Veronica had disagreed on the IPO, they both shared a larger vision for BA. Now, it appeared that destiny had handed Franklin what he needed.

  When his phone dinged with a text from Andrew, Franklin frowned. It was odd at that hour. When he looked at the screen and saw the words, we have a problem, his frown became a scowl.

  He responded to the text and asked for more information. Andrew wrote back that he didn’t want to discuss it this way and could Franklin drive over to his house ASAP.

  Being wide awake anyway, Franklin only sighed and went inside to grab his keys. The Bradford compound was only a short seven-minute drive, so he locked up and went to get into his Lexus.

  As Franklin reached for the starter, he realized something was wrong. An ancient and primitive instinct told him that he wasn’t the only one in the car.

  When the dark figure rose up behind him and placed the barrel of a weapon to his head, Franklin had to bite his tongue to keep from yelping in terror. He only froze, waiting for what would happen next.

  “Drive,” the dark man said in a low voice. “To the airfield.”

  “Who…” Franklin croaked.

  “Drive, Will.”

  Franklin had little choice. When a man held a gun to your head, you did what you were told. He started the car and drove out onto the street.

  “You heard about Veronica?” the man asked, withdrawing the gun.

  “I… yes,” Franklin said, still too stunned to recognize the voice. “I can’t believe it…”

  “Indeed,” the man said in a more conversational tone. “Yet you and the Bradfords certainly benefit by it. Funny how that worked out.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  A humorless laugh, “I’m saying that you, me and the Bradfords are going to have a Come to Jesus meeting, Will. And at the end of it, the guilty party will be made to pay.”

  It suddenly clicked into
place and Franklin half-turned in his seat. Although it was very dark inside the car, there was just enough light to illuminate a familiar face beneath the low stocking cap. The man nodded, as if confirming the unasked question.

  “What does that mean?” Franklin asked. “How do you know one or more of us is responsible?”

  The man chuffed in utter disdain, “Who else, Will? What kills me is that none of you thought that this would happen? That upon her death, you’d be suspected of it? Especially the way she died, Will. Not an accident or a simple disappearance. No, no… the shitbirds who did this raped her first, and then strangled her and dumped her body out of a moving car in downtown Saint Pete. A rather spectacular message, either intended or not. Rather sloppy, if you ask me.”

  “My God…” Franklin breathed, experiencing true horror. “I… I didn’t know that…”

  Another humorless short chuckle, “Or didn’t want to.”

  Franklin guided the car up next to the Gulfstream, and the man ushered him into the plane. Franklin was further shocked to see Andy and Sarah Beth Bradford handcuffed to seats in the passenger compartment. They were both laid back and their heads lolled over to one side in sleep. Jean Belmar sat behind them, her eyes going wide at the sight of Franklin.

  “Gang’s all here,” the man in black said. “Well, almost.”

  “What’s going on?” Franklin asked.

  “We’re taking a little trip, Will,” the man said. “It’s late, and I think it’s time you got some rest. You’re going to need it.”

  “What? What do you…?”

  He never finished the question. There was a hiss, and then Franklin flew out over a darksome and endless onyx sea.

  26

  Interlude: The Predator, Four

  The Gulfstream did not return to Albert Whitted Airport in downtown Saint Petersburg. Instead, the aircraft flew further south and touched down at the LaBelle Municipal Airport. There, at approximately five in the morning on the day Lisa and Jackie visited Marcus Bradford, the plane was met by a newer F-150 pickup truck.

  Out of the truck stepped a very large man. Although not quite as muscular or broad in the shoulders as the man in black, the big man wearing the cowboy hat was half a head taller, which was saying something. The two men shook hands near the folded-down tailgate of the truck.

  “Everything set in train?” the man in black asked.

  “Got the suite all ready for our guests,” the very tall man said in a deep voice touched with Florida cracker. “Your first guest is resting there comfortably… if not happily.”

  “Shame,” the man in black said flatly.

  “You all right, son?” the other man asked. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell by his voice or perhaps in the pre-dawn darkness, but the man was clearly Native American. His long hair, still black after seventy-plus years, was braided behind his back, and his square, handsome face showed only a few hints of age lines around his eyes and mouth.

  “I will be,” said the younger man. “When this is finished.”

  “What’s left?”

  “One more guest must be collected,” the man in black said. “Then I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”

  “You’re short a vehicle.”

  A sigh, “Yeah… no car or boat since I flew down. Bit of a problem.”

  “Nope,” the Indian said. “Already taken care of. Moved my new Maverick to a marina here in town. Here are the keys. Do what needs doing and then come out to the island.”

  “Thanks. Good thinking. Just what I need, in fact.”

  “What you need,” the older man said, “is a few hours rest. Why don’t you stretch out in the plane for a few hours? I’ll drop off this load and come back and help.”

  “I appreciate that,” the man in black said. “But you’re already helping enough. If I’m caught doing what I’m doing, I might get out of it. If you’re caught… it could cause problems for you and for our larger plans. Both now and future.”

  The big man drew in a breath and nodded, “Okay. I don’t like it, but I suppose you’re right. Assuming I’d ever be caught, of course.”

  The man in black actually smiled, “Fair enough. Still… just one more pickup.”

  “Have you got what you need?”

  “Gear’s in the plane,” the predator said.

  “Then let’s load up this cargo and you can get some rack time.”

  The man in black must have needed more sleep than he realized. He made an impromptu bed in the Gulfstream’s passenger compartment and fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t awaken until late afternoon.

  Feeling refreshed, if a bit stiff from lying on the floor for twelve hours, the man in black secured the aircraft, hefted a medium-sized duffel bag and walked the nearly two miles to the marina that his friend had indicated. There he ate a grouper sandwich at the small riverside restaurant and then stepped aboard the twenty-one-foot Maverick flats boat.

  It was similar to his own, just a bit larger and with a flat rather than shallow v-bottom. Although this made for a rougher ride in a chop, it also meant that the larger Maverick could travel in waters even shallower than the eighteen-footer. Mounted on the transom was a Yamaha two-fifty, four-stroke that could, so he was told, push the flats skiff up to and over sixty knots.

  Being early June in Florida was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the air and water were warm, which made what the man in black planned easier. A curse because it meant that full dark wouldn’t come over the land until nine p.m., and he had finished his supper and found Rick’s boat with well over two hours of daylight left.

  Having little recourse in the matter, he pulled out of the marina and idled up the Caloosahatchee River. It wasn’t but a few miles from the small marina to the Big B Cattle Ranch, but at idle speed, it took the man in black nearly an hour to cover the distance. He stayed along the right bank as he pulled near the property, however, so as to keep a good distance between himself and anyone who might be looking out over the river that evening. He was unconcerned that anyone would recognize him. It was sunset, and no one there had seen him for very long in the past. That and the odds were that no one there suspected anything.

  At worst, the Bradfords might be concerned about any lack of communication from Wyoming. Should they try to call Andrew, Sarah Beth or Wilfred, they’d receive no answer. That could easily be explained, at least for a time. However, even if they suspected something was not quite kosher, it wouldn’t translate in their minds to any personal danger into which they might fall.

  They’d be wrong, of course… but they didn’t know that.

  The man in black continued up the river and would wait until dusk. Then, he’d drift back down and anchor his boat slightly downriver from the ranch’s dock and proceed with his plan. It was only a matter of time.

  Marcus and Natalie sat on a glider swing under the gazebo at the end of their dock. The sun had disappeared and the placid river glowed silver in the twilight. It was a view they both enjoyed whenever possible, even during times of trouble.

  “I wonder why nobody has replied,” Natalie asked. “Nothing from up north all day long.”

  Marcus sipped a martini and sighed, “Probably busy. Or maybe even staying quiet on purpose. This whole situation with Veronica has certainly turned things on their ear.”

  Natalie sighed. She watched, as near the far bank of the river a fisherman drifted past. He stood on the bow of his low skiff and casted near the shore occasionally. The man and boat were no more than dark silhouettes as they slowly drifted with the current past the ranch.

  “Will it be all right, Mark?” Natalie asked. “I mean… with private detectives knocking at our door, and who knows what else?”

  Marcus shrugged, “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass for a week or two, I’d wager. Can’t help that. Our CEO was murdered, and all of us profit by it, whether we like it or not. The powers that be have to look into it… but they do have the men who did the deed in jail. That’ll satisfy most la
w enforcement, I think.”

  “Everybody knows those men aren’t really behind it, though,” Natalie insisted. “Sooner or later… won’t they tell what they know?”

  Marcus laughed softly, “Knowing and proving are two different things, honey. And the truth is… I’m almost certain those men don’t know anything. They can’t point a finger at who hired them because they don’t know.”

  Natalie sighed and looked out over the river. The fisherman had passed and was out of sight around a slight bend, “I just wish it were over, Mark… this whole thing… it’s hard to get my head around. Part of me wants to know the truth of it all, and part doesn’t.”

  “Better that you don’t,” he replied. “Better that none of us knows the entire story. This is a bump in the road, that’s all. A few weeks or a month from now, BA will be on a new path. We’ll all be richer, our company will be going public within a year, and then… the sky is the limit.”

  “Will it be worth the price of admission?” Natalie asked.

  Marcus swallowed the last of his drink and rattled the ice cubes absently, “I think so, darlin’. I think so.”

  “Want me to get you a refill?” Natalie asked with a small smile.

  “Just one more… I’ve got my limit… but just call up for Juanita.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, I’ve got to visit the house anyway. I’ll top us both up. Same for you?”

  “Sure thing, honey,” Marcus said and smiled as she took his glass and kissed him.

  “Don’t go anywhere, boy.”

  “Right here, honey,” he said with a chuckle and settled back to watch the stars as, one by one, they began to twinkle in the clear night sky.

  Although large predators weren’t unheard of on the Caloosahatchee, they were rarely seen near the ranch. As a precaution, however, the ranch’s banks did sport a four-foot-high fence to keep any errant alligators from venturing onto the property with designs on a nice fat calf. However, on far more rare occasions, other large predators might approach the property. A predator that would have no trouble with a fence, even if the shore was its destination… which it was not on that night.