The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  “And I find you all guilty of multiple ripoffs of the people of this country, including failure to report and pay your Al Capone tax in just the past two days, as well as since the first of this year. Your appeals of those convictions will fall on deaf ears … mine, wearing my hat as the Supreme Court.

  “As part of your punishment, I have confiscated all of your personal and business assets; you will keep your liabilities. Good luck with those.

  “Additionally, you are all sentenced to ten years in federal prison, with no parole, no time off for good behavior, and no Club Fed environment. It'll be hard labor.

  “No, no; no arguments … unless you want to have another five years added for contempt.

  “Guards, take these people down to the cellblock while we arrange for transport to the appropriate prisons. Keep them out of the Level A and B cells. Thank you.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I also thank you for your service, as we will be using you as widely-publicized examples for any others who have done what you have done and think they can continue to get away with it.

  “Not that everybody in your businesses is crooked, by the way. But like lawyers, 99.9 percent of you give the rest a bad name.

  “Enjoy your stay with us – oh, you will each be billed for room and board for the days you are here. Of course, with no assets left, I don't know how you'll pay for that, and frankly, I don't give a damn.

  “Take them away, guards.”

  After the door had closed behind them, Donne said, “Cissy, Cody, c'mon in.”

  Another door opened and they entered, following Donne and Emily to the couches in the center of the office.

  “Questions, problems, concerns? Cissy?”

  “No, Gordy, I think you did just fine with that.'”

  “Cody?”

  “Well, Gordy, as we discussed, there'll be lots of backlash and lots of perps trying to move their assets out of your reach, as well as trying to churn up opposition to you personally.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope, I think that's it. We discussed the other stuff before.”

  “Good. I hope they do try to move assets; makes it so easy to flag 'em, stop 'em and redirect 'em to the Treasury. And it makes it even easier to track the coding back to find out the originators, get 'em out of the woodwork, like cockroaches coming out when you turn the lights on.

  “Which reminds me, Emily. Tony's all set to do his Jimmy routine for these folks. Spray for bugs about – let's see; it's almost ten now, so about noon. And then release the roaches about nine p.m.”

  “Okay, Gordy. Like Lisbon.”

  “You got it. And they'll all probably enjoy some of your oddball salads; I'll leave the choice on that up to you.”

  Emily smiled and replied, “I'll do my best.” The other three all chuckled.

  “Good, good.

  “Cody, how are you doing on the China directive?”

  “I'm still running the possible outcomes of that … and there are tons of variables to consider ... but from my work so far, I think we'll need to hold off for a year or two, until our domestic economy is a good ways further into recovery.”

  “Cody, I think we need to put that in place in nine months to a year, max; narrow window there. But I agree we need to wait till our economy's stronger. I think we can do that in my time frame, though. We'll have to adjust that as the numbers start to come in. Keep at it.”

  “Sure will, Gordy.”

  “Cissy, any hubris problems with that?”

  “Only on your public image and the backlash. Standing alone, no problems. I'll be sure the social media teams are prepping for that, as well as all the other stuff.”

  “Good, good.

  “Emily, any other appointments today?”

  “Nope, Gordy; I cleared your calendar. Tomorrow's full, though.”

  “Good, good.

  “Okay, gang; that's it. Now I've got some work to do, so scamper away.” They all did and Donne returned to his desk and his very full inbox, which he divided into his usual two piles in less than an hour and then lay down for a long-overdue and well-deserved nap. “Tofu plus; hope they enjoy it. And I hope there's a lot of starch in their jumpsuits.”

  -65-

  Five Months Earlier

  Sunday, August 14, 2011

  11:15 a.m.

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Oh, this feels wonderful, Jake.”

  “Doesn't it, though? I'll tell you, I set a goal of twenty minutes, but usually I can only last maybe seven or eight.”

  “I think you lasted nearly twelve or thirteen. Bravo.”

  “Well, you made it easier.”

  “Oh, I didn't do all that much.”

  “It was enough. And we were interrupted.

  “Now, if you can just lean back a little more, we can continue from where we left off.”

  “Like this? Or more?”

  “Just a tiny bit more … there; perfect. Okay for you?”

  “Wonderful. Ahhhh. God, Jake, you're good.”

  “I'm kinda rusty; learned that move way back in college.”

  “Well, I'm loving it. I'll give you till the end of the year to stop.

  “Just a teeny bit more to the right, okay?”

  “Here?”

  “Oh, yesssss, right there. Ahhh.”

  “The cream makes it awful slippery.”

  “That's okay. It still feels wonder- – oh, yes, yes, yes, right there.”

  “Like that?”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Jake smiled and continued his ministrations.

  When they'd left the water twelve or thirteen minutes earlier, Jake made some notes, including the names Christopher and Paige, as he watched Pam spreading sunscreen on her arms, legs, stomach and shoulders, as well as a gentle dab to her face.

  “Ready for the back?”

  “Yup, if you would.”

  “Happy to, as long as I don't have to stand up.”

  “No problem. Last thing I want to do is make you stand up.”

  Pam moved to beside Jake's lounge, gave him the bottle and sat down in the sand, her back to him, as he sat up sideways.

  “Ah, good brand, same as mine. But I only use a 15.”

  “For now, I think the 30 is better for me, at least until I catch up to you.”

  “I wouldn't hold my breath on that.”

  “You might be surprised. I tan pretty quickly.”

  “Quicklier than other blondes?”

  Pam ran her fingers through her hair and laughed. “Sure.”

  After a moment, Jake said, “Geez, your shoulder muscles are kinda tense. Can you relax them a bit?”

  Pam shrugged a couple of times, then let go. “Like that?”

  “That's a little better. May I?”

  “Sure.”

  As Jake finished smearing the sunscreen, he began gently massaging her shoulders. She sighed and let her head drop forward.

  The Mimosa twins smiled and winked at each other. Norm and Janet, who had arrived an hour or so earlier, looked on, amused at the difference in Pam's demeanor now from two months earlier. Some of the Beach Potatoes got their cell phones and cameras out, the Beach Balls looked down their chubby noses in annoyance, but those of the Incontinentals who were still in their chairs, not using the facilities, were too far away to even notice.

  “Ohhh, Jake, that feels soooo good.”

  He ran his fingers up her neck, gradually adding a little bit more pressure, seeking, finding.

  “Let me know if it hurts. You've got some pretty tight knots up in here.”

  “Oh! You found that one.”

  “Sorry. Let me see if I can work it out.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, her chin down on her upper chest.

  “This may hurt a little bit.”

  “Okay – ouch – no, don't worry; that's fine. Go ahea- – ahhh.”

  “Better?”

  “I think so.”

  “A little pain, a little pleasure
.”

  “That's life.”

  “But only in eight percent of it; 92 percent routine.”

  Pam laughed, but kept the laughter from moving her head.

  “Well, this eight percent is pretty damned good.”

  “I'm glad.”

  Jake continued, the silence broken only by Pam's sighs and quiet moans.

  But after a minute, Jake could feel Pam's neck tense up a bit.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Sorry. My brain kept going.”

  “Ah. What?”

  “We didn't finish my notes on your stuff, and I remembered one thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “I'm concerned about your having the Pope swearing.”

  “Oh. I debated that for a long time. Then I reminded myself that it's not the real Pope, he's fictional, so I think it's okay. And it fits with what they're plotting in that scene – I mean chapter.”

  “But you used his real name, sort of.”

  “Oh, the Bennie bit? No, he's Italian, not German, and his full first name is Benedetto, not Benedict. He's fictional.”

  “I don't know, Jake. That may be another red flag … not just for Donne, but for you.”

  “What, you think the Church would come after me, too?”

  “They're pretty powerful, always have been.”

  “I know that. I've read about the Inquisition, Galileo, and all the rest. Hell, I even read about Constantine and how he killed people who wouldn't accept the Nicene Creed … allegedly. He was as bad as the radical Islamic terrorists today. I think one 'fuck' and three 'focus'-es in there aren't too far out of line. Hey, you're tensing up again.”

  “Sorry. But are you having him go after the Islamists, too?”

  “Yup, but in a surgical way, a rifle, not a shotgun.”

  “Oh, geez.”

  “Hey, Pam, easy; quit fighting it. Relax, okay?”

  “Sorry; I'll try.”

  “Ah, I've got it. Compartmentalize.”

  Pam laughed. “Your memory is getting better.”

  “I've been thinking a lot about that as I write, and whenever I've thought about you. Which has been a lot.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, especially since yesterday. It's nice to see you relaxed.”

  “Well, you're sure helping on that front.”

  “Actually, I'm working on your back.”

  Pam laughed.

  “Did you know you've got great shoulder blades?”

  “What?”

  “You've got great shoulder blades; they have a great shape and move really exotically.”

  “Exotically? I have exotic shoulder blades? That's a new one.”

  “Well, I like yours.”

  “Why, thank you, suh; ah do 'preciate that.”

  “Well, you deserve it. Now, try to relax, okay?”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  This time, the silence was broken after a minute by a harsh, nasal voice.

  “Hey, Jake, try this.”

  “What is it, Sonya? What do you want?”

  “It's a cigar. I've been trying to tell you about them for weeks.”

  “Looks like a brown cigarette.”

  “Smokes just like one, too, and they're only a buck a pack, ten bucks a carton.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “Over at B2B Liquors, in the green strip mall with the barber shop and print place. Try it; you might like it.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  “I'm sure you'll like it. That's a light, comes in a blue-and-white box. They also come in flavors, like strawberry, orange, peach --”

  “Okay, Sonya, I'll try it later.”

  “I'm sure you'll like it. Let me know --”

  “I'll try it, Sonya, promise.”

  “So who's this?”

  “I'm Pamela.”

  “Hey, Pamela; I'm Sonya, and my husband, Herb, is up there.”

  “Oh.”

  “He's trying to solve Fermat's Last Theorem.”

  “Trying to solve what?” Jake asked.

  “I thought Wiles solved that back in the '90s,” Pam said.

  A shocked look was the only response Sonya gave Pam, the first time Jake had ever seen her speechless.

  “Well, Sonya, Pam and I were just heading back into the water. Thanks for the cigar and say hi to Herb for me.”

  “You know about Fermat?” Sonya said, moving closer to Pam.

  “Yup. But Jake's right; it's getting too hot up here. Nice to meet you … Sonya, was it?”

  “Right.

  “So, Jake --”

  “Sonya, we've got to go. Thanks again.”

  “But --”

  “I'll let you know how I like it. See ya.”

  “But, Jake --”

  “Later, Sonya; I'll let you know. Promise.”

  “Want me to help you up, Jake?”

  “Thanks, Pam. Wawa time. See ya, Sonya.”

  “Well, okay. Try it; you'll love it.” She set the cigar on Jake's bag and headed back up to Herb and her chair.

  “I see what you mean, Jake; she is kind of outspoken.”

  “Not by anybody I know.”

  Pam chuckled.

  “We'll continue in the water, okay, Pam?”

  “I'd love that, Jake, as long as your hands aren't too tired.”

  “Not at all, Pam, not at all.”

  Sharon's voice rasped through Jill and Carie's earbuds. “I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts they do it sometime today.”

  Jill said, “No bet; that's a f'sure.”

  Carie added, “Well, he better wake up and pick up on the cues.”

  Sharon said, “Her place or his?”

  Jill said, “I'll put a buck on his.”

  “You're on, Jill. Carie?”

  “A buck on his for me, too.”

  “Guess I'm in for two bucks on hers. And it's just three floors down, right under me. I'm gonna go put a bug in there.”

  Jill and Carie both said, “No, Sharon, no!”

  “Hey, it's part of the mission; surveil and protect.”

  “We know, Sharon. And keep the principal in the dark.”

  “I still don't understand that part, CB. It'd be so much simpler if he knew.”

  “Ours not to question, kids, just follow the mission parameters.”

  “But we don't even know who the client is, and he's paying a fortune just for the three of us.”

  Sharon said, “It's obviously someone who wants to be sure his book gets published.”

  Carie said, “Or maybe someone who wants to know what he's writing before he gets it done. Remember, surveil before protect.”

  Jill said, “Somebody with lotsa bucks, that's f'sure. I wonder --”

  Sharon said, “Speculate later. Meanwhile, I'll get that bug set.”

  “No, Sharon,” said Carie. “You --”

  “I can do it; Kal left all the equipment here.”

  Carie said, “Not in your skill set. I'll do it.”

  “Well, then get your butt up here quick and get it done; I'll get the stuff out for you. What do you think, audio only or both A and V?”

  “Both, I think. Keep the options open.”

  “So get going, kiddo.”

  “On my way. Jill, hold down the fort, okay?”

  “Holding.”

  Carie left and returned ten minutes later. “Done.”

  Jill said, “Cool.”

  Carie held up a thumb drive. “And I got that sex file off her PC.”

  Sharon rasped and Jill squealed, “Yippee!!”

  -66-

  Thursday, January 5, 2012

  1:30 a.m. EST

  New York, New York

  In an Italian social club in the Bronx, the heads of five families were bemoaning the loss of nearly all their hit men, who had been dying of mostly natural causes or accidents over the past seven months or were simply missing.

  The same sorrow and frustrati
on was reflected in other mob enclaves in Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit, Atlanta, St. Louis, Las Vegas, Boston, Providence, Atlantic City, Newark, Miami, Nashville, Orlando, Dover, Albany, Burlington, Manchester, Indianapolis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Portland, Tacoma, Boise, Helena, Pierre, Phoenix, Denver, Fargo, Duluth, Milwaukee, Madison, Salt Lake City, Dallas, Scottsdale, Albuquerque, Houston, San Antonio, Minneapolis, Madison, Stevie Bruce, Hartford, Charleston, Berkeley, Worcester, Malden, Somerville, Lowell, Taunton, Sebring, Jonesboro, Palermo, Naples, Venice, Baghdad, Amman, Moscow, Cairo, Tokyo, Beijing, Mumbai, Jakarta, Sydney, as well as three other cities the author has forgotten, where each and every hit man on their payrolls had also died, most of natural causes or accidents, except for seven who had been blown to bits in explosions, two shot, one at close range and one from an extremely long distance, and one who had been smothered by the stomach of an elephant in a zoo in Oklahoma City; how he came to be in the elephant's domain and why the animal lay down on top of him remains a mystery to police to this day.

  Bosses in the Russian mob, gathered in Brighton Beach, NY, had the same frustration and sorrow. The same was true of bosses in the Lithuanian, Luxembourgian, Estonian, Samoan, Fijian, Melbournian, Norwegian, Icelandic, Bolivian, Peruvian, Zimbabwean, Egyptian, Sudanese, Somalian, Mongolian, Kazakhstanian, Parisian, Berlinian, St. Petersburgian, Armenia, Turkmenistanian, Obsessivian, Scottish, Compulsivian, Irish, Torontoian, Vancouverian, Depressivian, Avian, Manician, Musician, Rastafarian, Ecuadorian, Guatemalan, Belizian, Zimbabwean, Repetitivian, Redundantarian, Indonesian, Japanese, Syrian, Antediluvian, Mexican, Spanian, Grecian, Zimbabwean, Belgian, Kievian, Munichian, Manichean, Einsteinian, Latvian, Colombian, Zimbabwean, Repetivian, Redundantarian, Darwinian, Sargassoian, Borneoian, Kegelian, Marshall Islandian, Violian, Bassoonian, French Hornian, Uralian, Carpathian, Galapagosian, Hungarian, Romanian, Czechoslovakian, Bosnia-Herzegovinian, Dusseldorfian, Trombonian, Trumpetarian and New Ulmian mobs.

  In fact, other than the man with many names, only the tiny and mostly impotent Tubalian mob had a killer still alive, and she was stuck in the frozen Antarctic, where she had botched her most recent assignment, and was unable to return to her home island of Tuba.

  -67-

  Five Months Earlier

  Sunday, August 14, 2011