The 8th Circle

by Sarah Cain

  “And you’ve got confirmation of everything on these discs, Ryan?”

  “Jesus Christ. You haven’t even looked at them.”

  “I know if you start hurling accusations at people in power, you’d better have some pretty airtight proof and you’d better have collaborating sources. You aren’t a rookie. You know how it works.”

  Danny knew Westy was doing his job, but he’d lived the story. “Have legal look at these after we make copies. I think it’s pretty airtight. I spoke to Andy, and he included a confession of sorts. I have financial records of the organization. Initiation fees. Lists of services. It’s all documented along with a full membership list.”

  “And?”

  “For most people, being members of the Inferno gave them access to kinkier-than-normal sex clubs. Not your standard ménage à trois stuff, but some hardcore S and M, kids—most of them were street kids who looked very young, maybe fifteen—other grotesque shit. But high rankers got more.”

  “What do you mean more? More sex? What the hell were they doing? Fucking babies?”

  “Possibly, but they ordered off the select à la carte menu, depending on who they were and how far how up the food chain they were. It was all an additional fee, of course.”

  “You mean like sex and drugs?”

  Danny wondered if Novell felt as old and tired as he felt right now. Where was Novell? He had to track him down. Novell needed to see these discs. He needed to be part of this.

  “Danny?”

  “First, as far as I can determine, at the top, it was a very select group of very high rollers, and they could get anything, and I mean anything. Not everyone got to be a top member; they had to be approved, but once someone was approved . . . well . . . Say I need investors for my club. Better yet, say I want to kill you. I go to my friends, and they can make it happen. It’s not just about sex. It’s about power. They have it, and they aren’t afraid to use it. Christ, if you want to understand, look at the pictures, watch the DVDs. It’s all there. Andy included a signed and notarized statement of authenticity.”

  Westy chomped on the stogy for a moment, his face sober. At last he said, “I’m not going to like what I see, am I?”

  The surge punched through his chest. “Not unless you like snuff films.”

  76

  Danny faced Novell across Andy’s desk. “The Inferno. I figured you deserved to see these before they hit the Sunday paper.” He handed Novell the pile of photos. “According to Andy’s confession, there were three of them in the beginning: Bartlett Scott, Robert Harlan, and Andy. Three rich guys looking for a way to have fun on Saturday night. It might have stayed that way except Bartlett Scott had a son with peculiar inclinations.”

  “He liked to kill girls.”

  “Not just kill them. He liked to skin them.” Danny’s voice faltered, and he thought of Kate. The lost girls. They surrounded him. He could feel their cold breath on the back of his neck.

  “Go on.” Novell pulled out a slim flask, but he didn’t open it. He just turned it over and over in his hands, and Danny knew it was only the soothing repetition of the task that kept Novell from leaping from his seat and smashing something.

  “When Bartlett Scott discovered what Mason was up to, he was appalled, to be sure, but not so appalled that he was willing to let his son go to jail. It was Bob Harlan who realized there was profit to be made by transporting young girls into the country, using them up sexually and then throwing them to Mason. A virgin is only a virgin once after all, and Big Bob realized there was money to be made in offering special services to very, very rich, influential people. For a fee. So he brought in Bruce Delhomme to run the day-to-day operation and invested in his restaurants. Nice cover, right? Problem was they misjudged Andy. They figured he was a cokehead without a conscience.” Danny looked up at Novell and saw the scorn in his eyes. “They were wrong, Novell.”

  “Were they?” Novell stopped turning the flask.

  “They were.” Danny broke off, and it struck him that pictures of Andy and dignitaries he’d met over the years lined the walls. Presidents stretching back to Kennedy, local politicos, movie stars, the famous and nearly famous.

  Crowded in among the pictures was one Danny had never paid much mind, though he knew it hung there: a photograph of him at age fifteen with Andy taken the day his essay was published. He’d been stunned because he couldn’t understand why he’d been singled out for anything other than a beating. Andy saved his life.

  “He didn’t have to make these discs, Novell. He didn’t have to confess to anything.”

  “I guess you don’t know the feds very well,” Novell said. “First to talk. First to walk.”

  Danny shook his head. He might have ended up like those poor kids, passed around until they were deemed unusable. Did Andy know Mason never stopped his ritual? Andy swore in his confession that he didn’t know what was happening in those basement rooms until he saw the Tophet DVD. He was told it was a fake at first, but Bruce Delhomme enlightened him because Bruce wasn’t taking the fall alone if something went wrong.

  “But there’s no way to prove whether the DVD is real or fake,” Novell said.

  “No. I guess you could take it to a pro, but it would be an opinion.”

  “And that would be their defense. It’s all fake. You might get them on using underage actors or not. Hard to say.” Novell shrugged. “Basically, the DVD doesn’t count as hard evidence, though the feds will take a hard look at those kids. They’ll try to get a clear picture of their faces, then put them out to local law enforcement. If anyone’s been looking for them and they get a hit, it’ll be a first step, but that nightmare ought to be seen.”

  Danny knew he was right. Maybe someone somewhere cared about those kids, but they had dropped through the gaping holes in the juvenile system. The DVD needed to be seen, but it would never make it to court. “Is Kevin dirty, Novell?”

  “Kevin thinks he can keep you alive if he looks the other way.”

  “Has he been looking the other way for a while?”

  “I don’t think he’s been involved with the Inferno, but he definitely called in some major favors with what went down at Midnight.”

  “Westy said the cops found me in South Philly.”

  Novell shrugged. “I know. If it means anything, he was trying to protect you.”

  Danny tried to understand Kevin’s logic, but it eluded him. “By keeping me in that goddamn hospital room like a prisoner?”

  “Stan Witkowski’s dead. There was an explosion at his house. They said he was smoking and it set off his oxygen tank. Him, his wife.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Our friends were covering up loose ends. Kevin didn’t want you to become a loose end. And he didn’t want you to know the cops reached an agreement with Mason’s family to keep his name out of what went down at the club.”

  “They did what?” Danny almost jumped out of his seat.

  Novell smiled. “Don’t worry. The feds got to go through Mason’s private room and gather evidence. But it won’t change the outcome of the Sandman killings.”

  Danny could see Novell was having fun. “And you won’t tell me anything.”

  “Nothing to tell. The feds took over the investigation, and they aren’t talking. Apparently, Delhomme’s operation has been under surveillance by the DEA for some time. The clubs have been shut down.”

  “Didn’t you know about it?”

  “I’m not in the bureau any more, and it was a deep-undercover operation. Nobody is talking to anyone.” Novell gave him an asthmatic chuckle. “Bureaucracy is a wonderful thing.”

  “You’re all insane, Novell. And Kate?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “She’s dead?” Danny pushed his fingers against his temples. He’d killed her. She’d come after him, and now she was dead.

  Novell sighed. “Does it matter? She’s gone. It’s not your fault. It’s what she wanted. She wanted to put a stop to Mason.”

  �
��We had him. I was too slow. It is my fault.”

  For the first time, Novell gave him a look of pity. “No. It’s not. Kate made a choice. Now you need to decide what you’re going to do. Having investments in a sex club may look a bit shady for Senator Harlan. He’ll take a hit in the press. I doubt it will do him lasting harm in the long run.” Novell’s face hardened. “So what are you going to do?”

  “My father-in-law’s throwing a party tonight at the Pyramid Club. Westy’s already sending a photographer. I thought it would be fun to crash it.”

  77

  “Welcome to the Pyramid Club, gentlemen.” The blonde in the black velvet cocktail dress almost blinded him with her smile. “The reception is upstairs. If I can see your IDs?”

  Danny let out a breath. Kevin had been among the cops standing guard downstairs, but Danny managed elude him and slip in among the crowd of press. Now he and Novell took refuge behind the bulky photographer, Freddie Santos. Engulfed in Westy’s coat, the faint horseshit aroma of Westy’s stogies gave Danny a strange comfort. He held out his press pass.

  The blonde smiled. “Alex Burton?”

  “Right,” Danny said. “That’s me.”

  It had taken some doing, but he had managed to filch Alex’s ID and persuaded the photo boys to whip him up a passable facsimile. Thank God this bimbo had no idea that Alex was a woman.

  “The senator is making an important announcement tonight,” Novell said to Danny. “You have any idea what that would be?”

  Danny nodded. “He wants to run for president.”

  “Which is why he wanted the financial records.”

  “Look. They’re showing a movie. Why do they always show movies?” Santos pointed to a poster of the senator that sat on a metal tripod in front of the curving staircase that led up to the main reception area. “Robert Harlan: A Life in Retrospect. What does that mean?”

  “That he’s an asshole.” Danny glanced at Novell. “Home movies can be pretty boring, don’t you think?” He held out a disc.

  Novell’s mouth twitched. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, took the disc, and slipped up the stairs to blend into the crowd.

  *

  Danny shrank into a corner of the room behind a potted fern and tried to pretend he was enjoying the view out of the twenty-foot window. He could see the reflection of the hors d’oeuvres arranged in silver bowls. Shrimp the size of his thumb, little crab claws, glistening oysters, and so much more—clearly this was the seafood room. In the middle of the table stood an ice sculpture shaped like a battleship. Light sparkled off its surface in an ever-changing prism of color.

  It was an all-star crowd. Judges. Philanthropists. Lawyers. Doctors. Eminent do-gooders. Politicians. Danny felt trapped. The real circles of hell surrounded him tonight.

  “There’s the man of the hour!”

  A jolt ran through him. He didn’t have to look around to know that Robert Harlan had entered the room. The senator’s presence was electric. Danny was surprised that the ice sculpture hadn’t vaporized.

  “Senator,” the blonde from downstairs came into the room. “We’re almost ready to begin.”

  “In a moment, Janine. Get everyone assembled, please.”

  She immediately began to herd people toward the dining room, and Danny winced. Kate’s replacement. She looked as if she were made of plastic, and he thought of the scar under Kate’s right breast. It matched the empty space in his heart. Danny clenched his fists. It was time to stop playing hide and seek. He slid around the fern and blended into the crowd milling out the door.

  *

  A reverent silence fell over the room when Robert Harlan sailed in, as majestic as any battleship. He shook hands, smiled, and waved to the crowd as the klieg lights snapped on and Danny took refuge behind Freddie Santos’s bulk.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me tonight.”

  Danny could see Patsy Harlan, who sat at the head table, her helmet hair so sharp and perfect it was probably bulletproof. There was never much of Patsy in Beth. She was always Daddy’s girl. But Patsy looked good tonight in an artificially tightened way. Miss Georgia Peach was doing her best to glow. Her wide, fake smile looked painful.

  “These are trying moral times, indeed, my friends.”

  As the senator’s golden baritone bathed the room in its warmth, people clapped and cheered. They bought into the Gospel of Robert Harlan. They soaked it up because he made their fears and prejudices reasonable. In his voice of poisoned syrup, he offered them simpleminded solutions, and they sounded reasonable too.

  Wasn’t that what the devil always did?

  “We need a stronger America with real family values. And that is why I am forming an exploratory committee to seek the office of president of the United States.”

  People stood to applaud, and Robert Harlan beamed, a benevolent sun shining down on his subjects.

  Janine said, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will please direct your attention to the movie screen, we’d like to show you a short film, then the senator will be happy to take questions from the press.”

  The lights clicked off, and the room went dark. Danny held his breath.

  78

  The room seemed to recoil as one at the sound of the boy’s screams, clearly audible over the relentless guitars. Mason’s voice joined in on the vocals.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” a woman said.

  Danny watched Janine fumble in the darkness for the switch on the DVD player. The image of a blond boy hanging naked and bleeding with Mason lurking before him like a malevolent green pixie froze and then disappeared. The lights snapped on.

  Danny watched the faces staring at the screen. He saw anger, disbelief, disgust. He wondered if it occurred to any of them that some of the kids who had serviced them at their clubs ended up in that dungeon with Mason. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they already knew and were pissed off that thanks to this interruption, dinner would be late.

  He took a step forward, and the movement was enough to draw Robert Harlan’s eyes.

  “Senator Harlan,” Danny said, loud enough to cut through the indignant voices filling the room. “Do you recognize the man on the DVD?”

  The senator’s face turned from brick red to purple. “I’m not going to dignify that question with a response. Janine, see to it this man is taken away.”

  “It’s Mason Scott, Senator. Do you have any comment on that?” He looked around, but Bartlett Scott wasn’t in the audience. “Does anyone have a comment?”

  “Daniel, I think you left the hospital too soon. Clearly, it’s affected your mind.”

  Danny stepped closer to the head table. He wondered how many seconds he had before he was dragged from the room.

  “Mason’s father was one of your associates in the Inferno. There were three of you in the beginning, but you’ve grown since then. Andy Cohen left me a package with an updated membership and investor list. That would be the one you were looking so hard for. I’m sure the FBI will find it as fascinating as I did.”

  Gasps from the crowd at the words “membership list.”

  “I want this man removed!” The senator’s arms windmilled like he was going to take off. He could have lit up the city with the amount of energy he was expending.

  Danny could hear cameras clicking behind him, could feel the glare of the lights in his back. This wasn’t exactly what he’d planned, but he thought Andy would approve of the melodrama. He went to the DVD player and removed the disc from Janine’s slack fingers.

  “Somehow, I don’t think this is going to look good on the campaign trail. That poor kid was just about sixteen. Where are the bodies, Senator?”

  The senator had regained control, though his face was rigid with fury. “Your sad attempt at a comeback is in remarkably bad taste.”

  “And you will never be president of the United States. I will devote the rest of my life to that. I’ll be so close, you’ll hear me breathing with you.”

  Danny heard ur
gent voices in the hall. His time was up.

  “This film proves nothing,” the senator said through clenched teeth. But his eyes darted around the room to take in the shocked faces. The urgent murmurs rose to a higher, more intense pitch.

  “Maybe not.” Danny held up the remaining discs. “But these do. I’ve got financial records and membership lists, and did I mention the pictures? You’ll be reading all about it, Senator.” Danny slid the discs into his pockets. “Starting tomorrow.”

  Patsy Harlan’s face was working as though something were alive in the muscles. Danny couldn’t help it; he gave her a smartass grin. “Hey, Patsy, you were so close, honey.” He leaned in. “Stand by your man even when he has a taste for children.”

  The reporters began to close in a second before Patsy Harlan gave a high-pitched shriek. Then she drove her thick, serrated steak knife into Danny’s shoulder just above his collarbone.

  “You! You, son of a bitch!” Patsy Harlan had finally exploded in living color.

  “Jesus!” Screaming bolts of agony ran straight to his brain, and he sank to his knees. “Jesus!”

  “Patricia!” Robert Harlan called.

  “Goddamn bastard! I can slit a hog’s throat! I’ll gut you!”

  Danny grasped the table with his right hand.

  “Patricia!” Robert Harlan had her now and tried to subdue her. Cops and security guards merged from all directions, and Danny could hear the crackle of the police radios. The clicking and chirping filled his ears.

  When the senator dragged her back, Danny struggled to stand, but his legs had turned wobbly. He could see the outline of Robert and Patsy Harlan merged together in one shadow, almost as if they were dancing. The senator shook her. “Patricia, for God’s sake, you’re making a scene!”

  She spat at him. “I’ll show you a scene, you bastard.” She grabbed a bottle of wine and slugged him with it so hard that he lost his balance and fell, slamming his head against the podium as he went down.