Evil Agreement

by Richard L Hatin

  “You’ve got to be on your guard.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  Korie leans over to Aaron and gives him a big hug.

  Aaron whispers in her ear “but what about the land in Vermont?”

  Korie pushes him back.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says with exasperation in her voice.

  “Look, Korie, what if I go to Vermont and just check this property out? I need to know more about it if I’m to be faithful to my ancestors, right? Several of them died on that land. Six generations have been running from it ever since. I need...I don’t know how to say it—I guess I want to see it, to feel it. I have to do this!”

  Korie rolls her eyes back. She can’t believe this man. He’s so stubborn and maybe too naive for his own good.

  “All right, go ahead and run yourself smack dab into trouble, if that’s what you want.”

  Korie folded her arms in mock protest.

  “Don’t be angry with me. Listen, I was wondering if you’d go with me. Sort of watch my back, you know, keep me out of trouble. What do you say?”

  “When were you planning this little adventure?”

  “As soon as I could, tomorrow, the day after, whatever.”

  “But what about my job?”

  She was hooked.

  “Look, I’ll pay you for whatever wages you lose by going with me. I’ve got plenty of money. It’ll only be for a few days anyway. I’m sure they can find someone to cover for you for a short while.”

  “I don’t know, Aaron.”

  He had to play his best card.

  “I’ve got to go and soon, with or without you.”

  Korie had fallen in love with this mysterious man. Common sense was about to be tossed out the proverbial window.

  “Shit, I guess I’m going.”

  Aaron was thrilled with her answer. He pulled her to him and kissed her with a renewed passion. She too felt a new urge. She responded to his advances with her own. She reached up with her two hands and held his head in her hands. She ran her fingers through his hair. Gently she stroked his ears, lightly tracing them with her fingers. Korie’s lips pressed against Aaron’s. Their breathing began to rise.

  “Aaron, stay the night?”

  “If you insist,” he said playfully.

  She rose from the couch and took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

  That night they made love.

  Later the next morning, Korie awoke to the smell of fresh coffee.

  Aaron had been up for the past couple of hours. Her mind drifted back to last night. Their lovemaking was good, not great, just good. They were both a little tense with each other. She began to drift off into a dream recollection when a message flashed into her head, “Vermont Trip!”

  “Shit!” she exclaimed as she tossed off the covers and pulled a robe from of the bedpost. She hurried to the bathroom. Before stepping inside the bathroom she spotted Aaron and gave him a friendly wave. He responded with a smile that could melt any woman’s heart.

  She didn’t want to look in the mirror. She had this thing about mirrors and mornings. She used the toilet and then took a shower. Next she brushed her teeth. She took a brush to her hair as she blow-dried her hair only half way to dry. After this semi-morning ritual she dashed down to her room to dress. She chose a comfortable pair of Gitano’s, a white tee shirt with an outline of Cape Cod traced across the front. The shirt’s message, read “Cape Cod, Where Summer Begins and Ends.” She also put on white canvas dock shoes. She pulled a brush through her hair once again. She also applied perfume to her wrists and a small dab behind each ear. She decided not to wear any earrings.

  Korie now headed to the kitchen. When she arrived in the kitchen, Aaron was on the telephone talking sternly to someone.

  “Yes, I understand you have a busy schedule. Look, I already told you that I need to see him today. It can’t take too long to review the matter of the land in Vermont. How about if I agree to pay twice the firm’s hourly rate? Yes, I’ll hold.” He held his hand over the receiver, “I’m on the phone with my mother’s law firm. The coffee’s in the carafe on the counter. I sort of helped myself. Oh, and I’ve charged the call to my home phone.”

  Korie kissed him on the cheek.

  “Yes. Hello, look, I was hoping … Oh, I see, she already explained it to you. Uh huh...yes, Okay fine then, three o’clock it is. Thanks, I appreciate your squeezing me in on short notice. Sure, all right. Thanks again, good-bye.”

  Aaron hung up the phone.

  “They’re willing to squeeze me in. How accommodating! Did you hear? It took an offer to pay twice the hourly rate to get any attention. Well anyway, it’s all set.”

  “The coffee’s great,” said Korie.

  “Uh, Korie, about last night, I was a little nervous, I uh...”

  She stopped him from continuing by placing her right index finger to his lips. He kissed her finger.

  “I’ll make breakfast. Omelet okay?”

  “Sounds just right. Can I help?”

  “No, just have a seat and read the newspaper or something,” she said playfully.

  Aaron left the kitchen and went to retrieve the morning newspaper.

  They were soon eating breakfast.

  After breakfast, she called a co-worker of hers. They talked for a while. Korie explained that she had a family emergency and would need to be away for a couple of weeks.

  “Could you take my hours?” she asked.

  They talked some more and soon struck a deal. It appears that her friend Liz owed her a big favor and would take her hours.

  After breakfast, they headed to town and took a walk on the beach. They held hands. Long periods passed without either one saying a word. At lunchtime, they sampled some hot dogs and cold soft drinks from Buddy’s Steamed Dogs push cart.

  After lunch, they climbed into Aaron’s car and headed to Boston to meet with his mother’s lawyer about this mysterious property in Vermont.

  Later that afternoon, they both were sitting in the same office that Aaron had visited earlier that week. They sat alongside the same long mahogany desk he had sat at during his previous visit. The lawyer was a half an hour late for their meeting. After the customary exchange of pleasantries, they got down to business.

  “Mr. Powell, the property in Vermont has been in your family’s possession for over a hundred and fifty years. The arrangement that my firm had with your family for say, the past seventy years, is that we are to transfer the deed to the property every couple of years to a straw corporation that we create. The purpose is to make it as difficult as possible for someone to trace the exact ownership of this piece of Vermont property. We pay all the property taxes and handle all inquiries concerning said property through this firm. We bill for our out of pocket expenses and we are paid a retainer of three thousand dollars a year to represent the Powell family.”

  “Where exactly is this property and what’s it like?”

  “It is located in Sutton, Vermont. While I’ve never seen it myself, it would appear from the description in the file that it is located in a rather inaccessible place on top of a mountain. Here, see for yourself. I believe this is the file, ah yes, here it is.”

  Aaron took the file from the attorney. He opened it on the table in front of him. Korie and he quickly looked through the few papers in the file folder.

  “The description of the land on this appraisal card describes it as a parcel of one hundred and ninety-two acres,” said Aaron.

  “Yes, that is correct,” responded the lawyer.

  “It also says there are three buildings—a large barn, a smaller barn and a house.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder what condition the buildings are in?” asked Aaron.

  “Probably really run down,” said Korie.

  “Oh, I quite agree. The property has been unoccupied for over a hundred years. However I believe there’s someone here at the firm who is familiar with the area. Perhaps she could tell you
what Sutton is like. Why don’t I ask her to step in?”

  “Sure,” said Aaron, “as long as we don’t mention this particular property.”

  “Of course.”

  Using the conference room telephone intercom, the lawyer buzzed the outer office. A young woman responded to his call.

  “Miss Houle, doesn’t that new paralegal who works for Edmund, come from Vermont?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Could you ask her to stop in for a moment?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  After a moment, there was a soft knock at the conference room door.

  “Come in.”

  “I understand you asked for me?” said the tall slender woman. She wore a dark black knee high skirt. She also wore comfortable flat black patent leather shoes. Her blouse was of a conservative business style. It was off white. She also wore a black business blazer that fit her perfectly. She seemed nervous as she held her hands in front of her.

  “I understand you’re from Vermont, Ms. Shearer?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Are you familiar with Sutton?”

  “Why yes, I am. I’m originally from Waterbury which isn’t very far from Sutton.”

  “It seems my clients are interested in some property in Sutton.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll love it in Sutton. It’s a lovely place nestled in a river valley and surrounded by several beautiful mountains.”

  “Wonderful. Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Shearer.”

  “Yes, thanks,” said Aaron as he extended his hand to her.

  Instinctively she took his hand and shook it. Her hand felt blazing hot to his touch. Her eyes locked onto his.

  Aaron could feel the heat radiating from their touch. His mind was suddenly slammed with two words.

  “STAY AWAY.”

  His eyes met hers and he could see a flash of fear in her eyes. Korie watched the two shake hands, but her attention was drawn to the look on their faces. It was a look that suggested these two knew each other, or did they?

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” said the woman as she turned and quickly left the room.

  Aaron turned to Korie. She hid her reaction and feelings from him.

  Aaron pulled a pen from his inside coat pocket and took a page from the top of a small note pad the lawyer had placed near the middle of the table. Aaron copied down the details of the property. He also wrote down the property’s tax card number.

  “I’m satisfied with the way you’re handling the property issue. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Now look, I’ve been thinking about all the other assets you described to me the other day. You know the need to try and professionally manage them. I don’t think I’m a financial wizard, but this is what I have in mind. You continue to manage my family’s affairs exactly as you have before. However, I want you to place everything I own outside of this Vermont property into a living trust. I want you to hire the best asset managers you can. I want to have my trust earn five percent net per year after taxes and expenses. Your fee, if you’ll agree, can be for expenses and everything over the yearly net—oh, and one more thing.”

  “Yes, Mr. Powell.”

  He clearly had the attorney’s attention.

  “I want this done right now, while I’m here.”

  “Now?”

  “Do we have the makings of a deal, or do I have to shop around for another firm?”

  “No, indeed, Mr. Powell, there will be no need for that. Give me a few moments to make some arrangements.”

  This time, the lawyer pushed on a button which was recessed into the top of the table in front of the lawyer.

  A young woman pushed open the conference room door.

  “Miss Houle, will you find Mr. Hanauer and ask him to join us. And Miss Houle, please come in as soon as you can.”

  Moments later there were three other lawyers and a couple of legal clerks as well as three secretaries seated around the oversized table. Everyone had laptop computers. Questions and answers flew between everyone. Dinner was ordered out for some. The choice was Chinese takeout. Aaron was as animated as anyone as he responded to questions and tossed out a few of his own. By 7:15 p.m. that night, everything Aaron had asked for was in place. Handshakes were exchanged all around. Korie had even offered a few suggestions along the way, but generally remained in the background. One of the lawyers, had at one time during the session, referred to her as Mrs. Powell. Aaron politely explained that she was not Mrs. Powell, but that she was a very close and dear friend.

  “I see,” said Miss Houle, “and I don’t believe I caught your last name?”

  “Oh, it’s uh...” stumbled Aaron.

  “It’s Catalano. My family is originally from northern Italy,” said Korie as she slipped an arm under Aaron’s.

  Now that everything had been taken care of Aaron and Korie headed for the elevators. On their way they noticed several meeting rooms with their lights on, doors slightly ajar for air circulation and small groups of people engaged in animated discussions.

  They waved a friendly goodbye to a law clerk who had accompanied them to the elevator. When the elevator doors closed, Aaron slumped back against the wall of the elevator car. He seemed exhausted. Korie put her arms around him and gave him a kiss.

  “I didn’t expect we’d be here for this long. You sure got a lot accomplished here this afternoon.”

  “I know. I didn’t want to tell my mother’s lawyer what I had in mind over the phone.”

  “Because someone might have been listening?”

  “No, because he would have never agreed to meet with me on such short notice. I wanted everything taken care of in one meeting, not over several meetings taking months.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Now, we take in the ‘Blues’ at the House of Blues over in Cambridge.”

  The elevator door opened on the ground floor. They stepped out and exited the building from the front door with the help of a security guard.

  “I thought you were tired.”

  “Korie, I am never too tired when it comes to the blues. Tonight they’re doing a dedication to the great blues man, John Lee Hooker?”

  “Oh, really.”

  “Let’s go,” he said as he took her by the hand.

  Korie made a mental note to talk to Aaron about that paralegal from Vermont they had spoken to earlier. He, too, made a mental note of his own. He wanted to ask Korie if she thought there was anything peculiar about her.

  High above the street, in the building they had just exited, someone watched their movements from a window, behind parted blinds of a darkened office. As Aaron and Korie ran across the street on their way to the parking garage, the watcher at the window dialed a cell phone.

  “Hello. Yes. I know it has been a long time. Uh-huh. Yes, I understand. I haven’t had anything to report since she died. Listen, I think she had a son. Yes, you heard right, a son. He’s been here. My source came through. She called and tipped me off this afternoon. I haven’t checked it all out yet, but it’s got to be legit. Okay. Yes, I will. What about her? Yes, I see what you mean. Sure, I can find a replacement.” The call ended.

  The caller closed his flip phone and released the curtains when he noticed Aaron’s car pull out of the parking garage.

  He had work to do.

  13

  Ed Townsend hung up the telephone. Sitting in his small office, in the back of the first floor of his house, he leaned back in his well-worn office chair. The chair creaked and squeaked from the strain. He folded his hands behind his head as he turned his gaze up to the stamped tin ceiling. The ceiling fan he had installed last year was turning at its slowest speed. A gentle cooling movement of air descended from above as the few papers on his desk moved only slightly from the fan’s downward current. It was getting dark outside. Evening came early here in valley of the Winooski River, nestled at the base of the mountains of north central Vermont.

  The old coat rack hanging by the door had a sligh
tly soiled fedora hanging on it that he had worn for nearly twenty years during his time with the FBI. He had spent most of his life hunting spies and their Communist handlers during the Cold War. He had served with the G3 unit. Their assignment was to try and catch spies who worked their craft in and around Washington, D.C. In his spare time, he clandestinely hunted the last known descendant of the Powell family. He had personally hunted for Aaron Powell’s mother for all of his thirty-one years in law enforcement.

  Ms. Powell was equal to his challenge. She was cunning. She would leave false trails. She even laid traps to try and catch him, so she could identify the mysterious person hunting her. He had grown to respect her. So much of him was a highly trained law enforcement officer. But part of him, the part that controlled him, that drove him, was evil. He was a member of Moloch’s coven. He had been inducted when he was twenty-nine years old. His being had melded with another from the evil world. On this earth he was Ed Townsend. In another place he was Briga, Lucifer’s ancient ally, a ruthless hunter of souls. Murder and mayhem was Briga’s trademark. Briga and Ed Townsend were as one when it came to the pursuit of Ms. Powell.

  Hanging on the same coat rack was a nylon and leather holster, which carried a flat black Colt 44 Magnum loaded with Black Tallon ammunition. Sitting in a small holster strapped to the back of his loosely fitted pants was another pistol. He had another strapped to the upper calf of his left leg.

  “A man can’t be too prepared,” was his motto. He was a deadly shot. He could place five shots in a tight grouping of less than an inch, at seventy-five feet, and in less than four seconds.

  Ed Townsend’s wife, Emma, had died eleven years ago from complications following surgery to correct a heart defect. Ed never remarried. Emma and he were close. They had grown up together in Sutton. She had reluctantly left Sutton and joined Ed during his years with the FBI. She would journey back to Sutton whenever she could. They never had any children together. Ed had never revealed his role with the coven to Emma. She never saw his evil side. Not everyone in Sutton was associated with the coven or even knew about it. It was a carefully guarded secret, whose oath, when broken, resulted in the certain death.