by Jack Mars
“Did we?” Darwin said. “Did we do that?”
There was no answer.
“Feel free to speak plainly,” he said.
Darwin had graduated from the place where you had to be careful about what you said on the telephone. Let them listen in all they wanted. He was above that station in life. He owned people, people who would do him favors, people who would protect him.
“Yes,” the voice said. “We did.”
Darwin almost laughed in delight. A long, quiet moment stretched out between him and the voice on the line. Darwin could almost hear the other man smiling as he delivered this news.
“Is the product safe?” Darwin said.
“We moved it to a secure location.”
“Terrific. Then do this. Get in touch with the client. Tell him we’re very upset. He wasted our time, and put our people in a difficult position. But we understand that these things happen, and we still want to deal. We’ll meet him partway. If he can raise seventy-five percent of the original purchase price, we can close with him. Tell him no funny stuff this time. If we smell any trouble at all, we walk, and he can try to take the capital with pea shooters and slingshots.”
“Will do.”
Darwin nodded. “Good job.”
He hung up the phone.
A silver Rolls-Royce had pulled up and was waiting for him. A black SUV was parked in front of it, and another black SUV brought up the rear. The bodyguards rode in the SUVs. Darwin walked over and slid into air-conditioned comfort in the back seat of the Rolls.
Elaine sat in the car, waiting for him.
She was thin and very pretty, almost as beautiful as she ever was. They were great friends, associates, former lovers, allies in a cold, cold world. Her green eyes sparkled. Her thick eyelashes and her makeup gave her the effect of having cat’s eyes. She wore a dark green dress, as though she had prepared herself for his arrival.
“Hello, darling,” she said.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
He leaned in and they shared a long kiss. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They had a history together. They understood each other. Love was one thing, and they probably did love each other. But the hardest part was finding someone who could understand. They were both monsters in their own way. They both understood this, and they accepted it. That was rare. That was gold.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
As Darwin settled in, the little convoy rolled out. The three cars drove right down the middle of the runway toward a high chain-link fence at the far end—the exit. The fence was topped with razor wire.
The driver of the Rolls was a dark shadow on the far side of a smoked glass partition.
“How was your flight?”
“Fine,” Darwin said. “No complaints. How is everything here?”
“Things are good. Do you mind if I smoke?”
Darwin smiled. “Go right ahead. I like smoke.”
Elaine took a cigarette out of a small black case, along with a gold cigarette holder. She lit up, folded her legs, and exhaled, filling the compartment with smoke. For a moment, she looked like some sort of strange marionette.
“We brought in a new girl. I happened to be in the States, and I met her for the first time on the flight home. You’ll like her. She’s perfect. I’m taking charge of her personally.”
Darwin nodded. “Excellent. Where did she come from?”
Elaine waved a hand. “Oh, you know. There was a certain individual, a chronic problem with finances. The repayment schedule didn’t work out. We’ve been patient, but it became clear that the options were dwindling. A little research turned up a tasty little morsel very close to his orbit. So he agreed to this arrangement instead. Reluctantly, I suppose, but I don’t anticipate any trouble. I think he knows his place in the pecking order.”
“Terrific,” Darwin said. “If he forgets his place, we’ll be sure to remind him.”
Elaine took another drag on the long cigarette. “Yes, we will.”
“In the meantime, I’ll look forward to meeting the young lady.”
Elaine nodded. “You will be very pleased.”
He reached for her cigarette and she handed it to him. He took a deep drag. He let the smoke settle deep into his lungs. Technically, he had quit smoking thirty years ago. But sometimes he just couldn’t resist. Even now, after all these years, there was still nothing like it. It filled some hunger that he had. All real smokers were that way—they had a hunger, a need, that ordinary life simply couldn’t meet.
He released the smoke back into the car and handed her the cigarette.
“And the man?” he said.
She arched her eyebrows. “Yes. The one who owed? You know exactly who it is.”
Darwin nodded. “Yes, I do. No one has a memory like me. I know all my business. And the man still owes. Whatever he thought the agreement was, that wasn’t the agreement. The girl bought him half off the principal, but no more. We’ve been waiting too long, and it’s not as if the transfer of ownership is free. It costs quite a lot of money, as you know. So half off. That’s it. The rest is still payable, and the interest is the same as before.”
Elaine barked laughter. “You’re so wicked. I love it.”
Darwin smiled. “Evil.”
“The devil,” she said.
He winked at her. “God had better watch out. I’m coming for Him next.”
The car motored along a narrow, winding concrete roadway lined with palm trees and dense undergrowth. On the right, across more undergrowth, steep green hillsides rose above them. On the left, through the foliage, Darwin caught a glimpse of the turquoise water, and further out, the white foam of waves crashing.
They were the only cars on the road. Of course they were. St. Simon’s Saw was a private island, and Darwin King owned it. The only people here were Darwin, the people close to him, and the people who worked for him.
The car and its SUV escorts exited the main road and followed a narrow, well-paved lane uphill through the thick greenery. The ascent was steep for a moment, and then very steep. Darwin sat back in his seat, almost like an astronaut waiting for takeoff. He felt the heavy Rolls working to manage the hill.
The entrance to the estate was at the top. The procession waited while the main gate slid open, then each car passed through in line. The fence itself was a typical metal chain-link fence. Darwin glanced upward and spotted bands of circular razor wire at the top. Beat that outer fence and you faced about twenty feet to an identical one, with identical razor wire on top. The gap between fences was a dog run.
Darwin spotted a couple of Dobermans roaming free in there. This place was paradise, but even paradise had to be fortified against your enemies.
Up ahead, the main house came into view. It was a palace. When the car pulled to the top of the circular driveway, Darwin did a quick calculation. Old quarried stone house, more than a century old, fully restored, probably thirty rooms. He wasn’t even quite sure himself how many rooms there were. But it was a beautiful home, he knew that. It was a perfect thing. There were more expensive homes in this world, but none were better.
Darwin exited the car and immediately felt the breeze—the air wasn’t nearly as hot up here. Ahead of him, Elaine stepped up the stone front steps. Darwin carried his own bag and followed her.
At the top of the stairs, Darwin turned around for a moment. The front of the house faced inland—a sweeping panorama downhill across the brown and green island, and in the far distance, the ocean. Here and there, wisps of cloud clung to the high treetops—there might be a few drops of rain in those clouds, but not much. It was just hanging moisture, feeding the plant life. This was where Heaven and Earth met.
“I own this,” he said in a low voice. “This is mine.”
It was amazing, the things he owned. He really did walk like a god among mortals. Everything came to him. No one could resist him.
They crossed the threshold of the house, into the foyer, up the master stairs to the
second floor, and down a wide, cool hallway. Their feet echoed on polished stone. They passed through a doorway and here was what might have once been a ballroom—a vast, high-ceilinged room, with large windows, white curtains billowing in the breeze.
Darwin could almost hear the strains of music and laughter from those long ago times—the good old days.
But these were the good old days. Not then, now.
They passed into his apartment, a completely private living space within the much larger house. The apartment was big. Sumptuous, open concept, with two-story ceilings. Stone tiles everywhere, ceiling fans gently turning.
There was a living room with a large white sectional couch. A modern art piece hung behind it, the canvas four feet wide and ten feet long, the painting a crazy horizontal blood-red scrape, like a person scratching at the walls of their prison cell with the last of their fingernails. He loved that painting. Elaine had given it to him. It was a living artist, someone she was collecting. He didn’t remember the man’s name.
To the left, sliding glass doors opened to a wide terrace. The doors were open. With the doors open, Darwin could listen to the call of the gulls, and smell the sea breeze. The deck faced southwest across the cliffs and over the Caribbean Sea. When you stood out there, the ocean stretched from left to right, a 180-degree panoramic view. The last of the sun was fading now, the light playing on the stonework in the apartment.
“I love this place,” he said.
“I brought a couple of girls up,” Elaine said. “If you want.”
Darwin thought about that for a second. Then he nodded and smiled. “That will be fine. It was a long trip, and I could use a little help relaxing.”
“They’re in your room, waiting.”
He gave Elaine a mischievous sideways glance.
“Is the new one here?”
Elaine smiled, but shook her head. “She’s not ready.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Darwin paced into the bedroom. It was very large, with a gigantic, double-king-sized bed. Cool stone floors and windows faced the ocean. Peach-colored curtains billowed in the light breeze. Wide French doors gave out onto a private balcony. Night was coming in, and he was ready for it.
The girls were on the bed, wearing blue robes. They were nice, a blonde and a brunette. They looked up as he came in. Their eyes met his. Their eyes were so big, so beautiful. They were so young, and shy. He knew these girls. He knew their numbers. He knew their skills. And he knew, more than anything, that they belonged to him.
Again, he reveled in the things he owned. It was magic.
It was truly paradise.
CHAPTER NINE
8:45 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
A Safe House
Annieville, South Carolina
“Are those really alligators out there?” Ed Newsam said.
“What do you think?” Louis Clare said. His hands were zip-tied behind his back, his ankles zip-tied to the legs of the metal folding chair he was sitting on. His head was out of the bag, but his eyes were blindfolded.
“I think they are,” Luke said. “And they sure look hungry.”
Ed and Luke had just come in from the porch with a small flashlight. The light was a very bright LED, and Ed had been sweeping it across the stream that ran past the back of the tiny shack, out to the wide marshlands that opened to a large bay. Luke didn’t like the thought of ending up in that water. There were at least a dozen gators out there. The light flashed across their faces in the deep dark of a South Carolina backwoods night, illuminating their eyes.
“I wonder what we could feed them,” Luke said.
“I don’t know,” Ed said. “I guess we’ll think of something.”
Clare shook his head. He seemed calm for a helpless man in the custody of two strangers musing out loud about feeding him to alligators. He was smoking a cigarette, maybe that’s what calmed him. Luke had given him one to get him talking. Like all true long-term smokers, Clare didn’t need his hands to smoke. The cigarette just dangled from his mouth.
“Give it a rest,” he said. “I’ve heard all these jokes before. You think I haven’t? Feed me to alligators? You guys are cops. You’re not going to do anything to me.”
“What makes you think we’re cops?” Ed said.
“Simple,” Clare said. “If you weren’t cops, I’d probably already be dead.”
“Have you been doing things someone might want to kill you for?” Luke said.
Clare shrugged. “You tell me.”
“Well, you’ve done things in the past that someone might want to kill you for,” Ed said. “I’m sure some of your old victims might like to kill you, or their families.”
“But you’re talking about the past,” Clare said. “That’s the key phrase. In the past. I was young, misguided. I did my time. I paid my debt to society. I’m rehabilitated. If I wasn’t, they wouldn’t have let me out. I’m better now.”
Ed seemed perfectly calm, too. “You’ll be better when I say you’re better.”
“Yeah?” Clare said. “And who are you supposed to be?”
“Nobody.”
Clare nodded. “That’s right. You’re nobody.”
Luke was standing in a corner of the empty room. The place was just an old tumbledown shack with three rooms, at the end of a dirt road. The kitchen had been left to deteriorate on its own. There was a microwave oven, and a stove with one electric burner that still worked. There was a small refrigerator that came to about waist height. It wasn’t plugged in, and there was black mildew growing inside of it. The sink worked, but when Luke turned on the tap, it had spit and sputtered for about thirty seconds. There was an aluminum pot and some old instant coffee bags in a sealed Mason jar. You could make stale black coffee, if you wanted.
Luke had no idea where Don had gotten this place from. FBI, CIA, DOD. Just a place where you could disappear people for a little while. It seemed like no one had been here in years.
“You’re a chump,” Clare said. “That’s all you are.”
It occurred to Luke now that Clare had never actually seen Ed. Luke had already bagged Clare before he brought him out of the motel. They switched from the hood to the blindfold while standing behind him.
He watched as Ed approached Clare. Ed still didn’t seem the slightest bit angry. He seemed almost lost in thought, wandering around inside his own head. He put one strong hand on Clare’s forehead, and gently pushed the man’s head backwards. The chair tipped up on its hind legs.
“Wait!” Clare said. “Wait!”
The chair rolled over backwards. Ed made no attempt to slow the man’s fall. Clare’s head made a heavy THUNK against the peeling linoleum. Gravity just took him, all impact. His cigarette flew away and rolled across the floor. His teeth clacked together as he hit. He was lucky he didn’t bite off the tip of his tongue.
“Ow! What is wrong with you? You can’t do this anymore. I have rights. I’m going to have your badge, you know that?”
“You lost your cigarette, Louis,” Luke said.
Ed studied the man on the floor. “And you won’t have my badge because I’m not a cop. Is this how you did your time, mouthing off and complaining like a punk? I don’t believe it. You never would have made eighteen minutes, never mind eighteen years.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“You need to understand your situation. Think. If your brain works at all, now is the time to use it.”
Clare didn’t say a word. Apparently, he was doing as he was told. He was in an odd position, the back of his head against the floor, the back of the chair against the floor, his legs up in the air, tied to the legs of the chair. He was still in a sitting position, but he had been rotated ninety degrees.
“I don’t like people like you,” Ed said. “You understand that part, right?”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone care about you?” Ed said. “Will anyone miss you?”
Clare thought about it, but not for very long.
Luke already knew the answer. This guy had a mother once, but she died while he was locked up. He had a couple of siblings somewhere, but Trudy said there was no evidence that he saw them.
Other than that…
“No. There’s a hooker that I see sometimes, but you know how that goes. Money.”
Ed nodded, though Clare couldn’t see it. “I do know. Why would anyone see a man like you for free? So listen. I will feed you to the alligators. I mean that. I don’t like you. You know that already. But here’s something you don’t know. I’ve killed men before, quite a few, and for less than what you’ve done. It’s really that simple. You will cooperate with me, or I will kill you. No one will find your body. No one will even care. You’ll just be a bad guy who disappeared one night.”
Clare’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “What do you want?” he said.
“A girl went missing late last week, up in Wilmington.”
Clare’s chest heaved. He took a deep breath and let out a long exhale. Luke recognized the movement. It was a sigh of relief.
“Saw it on the news,” Clare said. “That’s all. I had nothing to do with it. Don’t even know anything about it. I don’t involve myself in that kind of thing anymore. I’m out on parole. If I get busted again, they will send me away for the rest of my life. I don’t want that. I like my freedom, such as it is.”
“You know something about it,” Luke said from where he was standing.
Clare shook his head. “I don’t. I really don’t.”
“Think,” Ed said again.
“I knew you guys were cops. Sorry. I can’t help you. And I’m going to talk to my parole officer about this, I promise you. You had me going there for a minute. It’s against the law, what you’re doing. Habeas corpus, all that. You can’t just take people away. You have to arrest me or let me go. And if you arrest me, I have the right to remain silent. So am I under arrest?”
“We’re not cops,” Luke said. “We’re interested parties. We can do whatever we want. We were brought in because some people want this problem fixed, and they’re worried the cops can’t or won’t do it.”
