Death's Valley

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  Jim showed back up at Santiago’s with Steve at a little past eight. Charlie was sitting at a table drinking a beer when he saw them come in. He saw that Steve was in a wheelchair and asked, “What the fuck happened to you?” Steve wheeled over weakly to the table and said, “ALS happened to me!” Charlie sat silent, and Jim called out to Javier and asked for a bucket of beers. Two buckets with six beers each came over to the table, and Javier walked up behind Steve’s wheelchair and pushed him up closer to the table. Javier cracked open a beer and handed it to him. Steve smiled and took the beer and thanked Javier, who smiled slightly and walked back to the bar. Jim said, “The Eagle asked us to follow up on Harry Chilton.” Steve said, “Wait. Boyd is next in line.” Jim nodded, taking a drink of his beer and said, “The Eagle is taking care of Boyd and his assailant.” “Jesus, Jim. You know who the killer is?” “The Eagle knows who two of the killers are, but some things aren’t adding up.”

  Charlie said nothing, only sipped his beer looking off into space. Steve looked at him and said, “Its okay, Charlie. There was no way you could have known.” He nodded and took another swig of his beer and said, “Yea…I like it when you white boys get killed off but not like this!” Jim laughed as did Steve, and it even got a little bit of a smile out of Charlie and Jim. “For a nigger who hates whites, I would think you would be dancing a jig!” It was meant as a joke, but Charlie got a serious and sad look on his face. “My father died of ALS. It was one of the worst times in his and my life. He wouldn’t use a respirator, so I had to watch him suffocate to death. I hate whitey, but I love my brothers in uniform, Steve. You and me go back a lot of years. I heard about Molly, and I stayed away. I knew I had no right being at her funeral. I suppose that you are not going to be on a ventilator?” Steve shook his head. Charlie raised his beer and said, “A toast…to Steve getting his head blown off before he has to endure death by ALS!” The men cheered, and Jim started talking about where they were going to go to protect Chilton.

  Jade got to the main house, and John and Sara were waiting for her. She was dressed in a sheer robe that hid nothing. John asked her to come in and sit, which she did. Sara asked if she wanted a drink. She nodded. John asked, “When Alverez was killed, he was positively identified?” Sara handed Jade the drink, and she sipped a little and said, “Yea, pretty much. Um…shit, it’s been a while. The cop who shot him identified him, and the family was all around as was the media, and they all identified him as well.” Did you do an autopsy?” “On what? The cause of death was plain and simple, John. The guy got his head blown off by Cantrell. He was identified, and if my memory serves me correctly, there was no request by LAPD for an autopsy.”

  John had a bottle of water in his hand, and he took a drink of it and asked, “What if I told you that Alverez is still alive?” Jade laughed and said, “That would be one neat trick because his skull was in fragments the last time I saw him.” John took another drink of his water and said, “Alverez is still alive, Jade.” She stopped mid-sip and said, “No way!” Sara nodded as did John. “What the fuck? How do you know?” John said, “Because his corpse blew up a cop car this morning with a cop in it.” Jade looked at John and said, “Alverez killed Salazar?” John nodded slowly, looking at her. “How the fuck could you know that, John? I was with you and Steve and Jim on that scene. Jim had that whole yelling match with Boyd, and you were there for it.” “I was there before the car blew up this morning. I was there when the car blew up and chased the killer down.”

  Jade started to get a frightened look on her face, “Then where is Alverez right now?” “He’s secure,” John said, taking a drink of his water. Jade got a pissed off look on her face and said, “If Alverez is still alive, and you know about it, and he’s not sitting in a jail cell somewhere, there’s no mother fuckin’ way he’s secure.” “The plot thickens,” John said, putting his empty water bottle on the table in front of him. Jade looked at Sara and asked, “Do you know what’s going on?” “Only what I’ve been told, though I have seen Alverez, and he is alive, though he’s seen better and less painful days.”

  Jade shot up out of her chair and ran for the deck off the living room. Sara and John sat still, watching her. She ran for the gate toward the beach and darted off into the darkness. “Should I go get her?” Sara asked. “No…let her spin.” “What if she tells someone?” John smiled, stood up, and said, “She won’t. The Eagle has to make a house call. When Jade comes back, give her a stiff drink, and I will speak to her when I come back.” Sara nodded, and John walked out of the room headed for the Eagle’s lair.

  It was ten after ten when the Eagle pulled off the road and parked near Boyd’s home. There was a gas company truck parked at the intersection near the house, and there were two men with flashlights checking the street. The Eagle made his way to Boyd’s home and saw the sheriff’s deputies standing together outside the front of the house. The Eagle crossed the street and made his way to the back wall of the Boyd home. He climbed over and dropped down into some bushes near the swimming pool. The house was brightly lit, and there was a lot of action going on in what appeared to be the family room off where the pool was. He put an ear bud in his left ear and pulled out an amplifier. He was able to easily eavesdrop on the conversation. He saw an animated young girl yelling at a man who was seated in a chair. The Eagle immediately recognized him. It was Brian Boyd.

  The young girl was going on and on, “Why do you get to tell me who I can fuck? I’m eighteen, and I want to fuck your young stud. Alan and Mom have been fucking all day, and Riggs fucked Mom with Alan when he first got here. I want to lay Marco, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” The Eagle looked on, trying to spot Marco Estrada. There were too many people in the room, and he heard Boyd yelling at the girl that he was not going to have his daughter having sex with his officers in his home while they were on duty. He was telling them that they were there for his protection and the protection of the family.

  Boyd said, “I’m not happy with fuckin’ Riggs right now. Fucking your mother when he’s supposed to be out here watching over the family. You and I are going to have words at the station tomorrow, Riggs.” “Listen, Captain, your house isn’t squeaky clean. Why do you think this psycho wants you dead? So, I fucked Cindy, so did Alan, your damn stepson, so don’t give me any shit. It’s the only thing that makes me even stay here and protect your ass. If you’re that pissed, we will go.”

  The Eagle saw Riggs point at another LAPD officer who was standing in the kitchen near the stove. Brian said a few more things then asked, “Is this not one fucked up family I have, Officer Estrada?” “It’s not my place to say, sir. I’m here at your command to protect you and your family.” The Eagle got a good look at Estrada and waited for the next move. He heard the phone ring in the house and heard Boyd yelling at someone on the phone.

  “You can’t take away my protection!” The Eagle knew it was Jim. His guys had been at the house all day. There was some yelling back and forth, and the phone went flying across the room. The two deputies were speaking into the radios on their vests and walked out of the house. The Eagle heard an engine start, and there was no further sign of them. He worked his way around a dark side of the house on the other side of the family room. He could now hear the conversation in the house without the amplifier. He was hidden under a gazebo and some foliage when he heard the jets of a hot tub start up right above his head, and he moved to the side closest to the house and watched the action through mirrors that were on a wet bar wall in the family room. He could see two women and two police officers, as well as Boyd, and another male. Estrada was hovering really, really close to the stove in the kitchen and that caught the Eagle’s attention.

  He remembered the gas men from when he pulled up, and he called the gas company and got their automated system and plugged in Boyd’s address. The system came back that there was a gas leak of unknown origin and that the company was working on it. The Eagle looked around and saw the
gas meter on the other side of the gazebo next to the house. It was shrouded in darkness, and he used a pin light to look at the gauges on the meter, and they were all maxed out. The Eagle moved back over to the edge of the gazebo and heard Boyd yelling at his family members to get ready to go out to dinner. Estrada remained near the stove the whole time, and Boyd came into the kitchen and said, “You are all I have to protect my home, Marco. I am taking Riggs with us to keep guard. The house is your responsibility. We will be out for a few hours. I will have you relieved as soon as we get back.” The Eagle heard Estrada say, yes sir, and in a matter of minutes the house was empty except for Marco.

  The Eagle made his way to the open sliding glass doors. He saw Estrada make his way to the front door and peek out the glass. The Eagle slipped into the house and into the kitchen. Estrada took out his phone and made a call. “Sir, this is Estrada. I have set everything in motion here. Requesting permission to leave these premises?”

  There were a few moments of silence, and Estrada said, “With all due respect, sir, I have done my job. This house is a bomb, and I don’t want to get my ass blown to the moon with Boyd or his family.”

  The Eagle opened all five burners on the stove, and the gas rushed out in a loud hiss. Estrada walked back into the kitchen with the phone still to his ear. The Eagle had made his way back to the corner of the backyard, and he watched the look on Estrada’s face when he realized that the valves were open. Estrada looked around to see who else might be in the house with him. The Eagle stood up in a far corner of the yard behind a rock waterfall that made its way down into the pool. Estrada looked over to see the blue steel glint of a weapon, the phone still to his ear.

  The explosion rocked the neighborhood; the house had nothing to burn. A gas line burned a hundred feet into the air. Boyd’s home had been reduced to tooth picks. The concussion from the blast blew out windows and set off car alarms for blocks. The Eagle walked to the side gate and out into the darkness back to his truck. He knew that Marco Estrada had been vaporized, and he also knew that there was someone in deeper cover running this show.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harry kept running. The second

  shot hit him in the right rear thigh,

  but the body armor worked.

  The arrow on the GPS was blinking in front of the house on Willins Avenue in Woodland Hills. The van was parked two houses down. There were no lights on in the property, and Patrick got out of the van and made his way up to the house and then to the backyard. The house was empty, and he picked the lock on the back door and walked in. He cleared the residence then called Lance.

  Lance pulled the van into the long driveway that circled around the house to the back. He got out and walked in and called out to Patrick who did not respond. “C4, where you at?” “I’m upstairs. Get up here.” Lance ran up the stairs in the dark and when he hit the top he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Patrick was holding a skull in his hands. There were five empty rooms with steel rails bolted to the floor, with chains and hand cuffs spread two feet apart. Leg irons were bolted to the floor with extra heavy chain. There were two wooden tables and a queen bed in the corner of the room. The mattress was stained with what the two men could only figure was blood, and every room in the house was set up exactly the same.

  Patrick said, “Jesus Christ, man. This is a holding and torture room.” Lance said, “No…these are slave’s quarters. They chain them in here until they are ready for sale.” He pointed to the tables and said, “Those are branding stations. You did notice that every room has a fireplace.” Patrick nodded. “They use it to brand the slaves before they are moved for auction.” Patrick asked what the other table and bed were for. “The other table is the same, and the bed is where they break the girls in.” “You think this is a brothel?” Patrick asked. Lance shook his head. “No. These are training and punishment facilities. Here the undesirables are raped and beaten until they submit to the will of their oppressors. Once they have been broken, the less attractive of this guy’s slaves are sold into captivity, either as household servants or sex slaves, most likely both.”

  A pair of headlights pulled into the drive as the two men spoke, and they made their way down the stairs to see a police cruiser in the driveway. Lance and Patrick walked out, and Andre Espinoza approached. “Where’s the kid…Gibson?” asked Espinoza. Lance said, “He’s out with a raging headache. We’ve been sent to deliver the goods.” Andre walked to the back of the van and said, “Well, let’s see the cargo. I don’t have all fuckin’ night.” Patrick opened the door while Lance stayed behind Andre.

  Espinoza took out his Maglite and looked in at the girls. They were all nude, and several were really, really beautiful. “Well, I see why Mark didn’t want me to touch some of them. Not only virgin pussy but really, really hot looking pussy. Damn…I really want to fuck a couple of these…I never got to pop cherries like these in Mexico.”

  Patrick asked, “So, you’re a cherry popper?” “Oh yea!…I really prefer the young girls between five and twelve. They are so much tighter and scream a lot more when you rip them than the late teens like these. But these are some really beautiful teens. I’m going to give Mark a call after we unload them and get them chained down to see if I can buy one now and pop her.” Lance was standing behind him, and Patrick could see that he was seething with anger. Patrick said, “Well, why don’t you give Mark a call before we take them out. Hell, man, shoot some photos and pick the ones you want us to leave in the van for you.”

  Andre said, “Great idea. Mark’s at my fuckin’ mercy anyway. I can fuck any of them I want. I will send him the photos of the ones I’m going to fuck and tell him he can fuck off. Fuckin’ Howard used to pop all of the girls as they came in. I can certainly have a few.” Andre pulled out his phone and took several shots. The flash on his phone made several of the girls wince and cower. He emailed the pics over to Mark then got him on speakerphone.

  “Hey, Mark, it’s Andre. I sent you over some pics of the pussy you hauled in. You weren’t kidding, man. These are some fine pieces of ass. I don’t know which ones you thought were ugly, but there isn’t one in the bunch if you ask me. Listen, I know you want all of these girls kept as virgins, but I just can’t let go of it. I’m gonna pop a few of them, man. Washington had the best of all worlds. You can afford for me to have a couple of nice pieces of ass.”

  Mark said, “Come on, Andre. You gave me your word. These are fine grade A pieces of ass and all perfect fuckin’ virgin pussy. I already have several bidders lined up, and two that want to buy three of the girls just based on pics alone. Don’t do this to me. I will make you a deal. You chain them up like we agreed. I will get a couple of my boys over there to strip, feed, and brand them, and I will give you a thirty percent cut on the sale…what do you say?”

  “Money speaks louder than pussy. If you can get what you say you can for them, then I will cut you a break. I will help your guys unload and chain them up.” “Guys…what guys? Gibson should be making the delivery.” “No. These two guys said that Gibson had a skull crushing headache, and…that…they…” Andre’s face started to drop as he realized that he was in deep shit.

  Patrick pulled the doors to the van fully open, and Gibson’s body fell forward with half his skull blown off. “I told you he had a skull crushing headache!” said Lance as Patrick hit Andre with a tranquilizer dart, dropping him to the ground. His phone was still locked in his hand, and Mark was screaming Andre’s name. Lance answered and said, “I’m afraid that Andre is out right now, but don’t YOU WORRY…I’M SURE HE WILL BE SEEING YOU REAL SOON!” The line went dead, and Mark started screaming and running through the house in a panic.

  Harry Chilton parked his car in front of his home. This was one of those moments when he was sorry that he and his wife Peggy had purchased a large piece of horse property with nothing but eucalyptus trees and honey blossom bushes around it. From the driver’s side door to
the entrance to his home, it was a hundred yards, and that included three horse pastures he had to make his way through and a riding ring that Peggy used for horse training and running her horse business. He tugged on his body armor and grabbed for his briefcase and helmet that he had kept in the car for security. He opened the car door and tried to talk himself down. “Relax. You’re home. Peggy is waiting with dinner and a drink. The servants will give you head while dinner is being prepared, and you and Peggy can talk about your day.” He closed the car door and hit the key fob locking it. He started to walk across the field all the while talking to himself.

  The crosshairs on the rifle had Harry’s head in the middle. The shooter was kneeling on an old hunter’s tree stand fifty yards away. “It’s just too easy,” he whispered to himself as he led Harry through the grass with the sniper rifle as he walked toward his house. “I need to make this more sporting,” the shooter said as he pulled back on the bolt action thirty aught six rifle. He let out a low guttural call, neither animal nor human, and watched as Harry moved into his rifle’s sight.

  Harry heard the sound as he was halfway across the field. He stopped for a fraction of an instant and looked behind him. A sliver of red light broke through the trees, and he looked at it with a moment of confusion before he realized he was looking into the laser sight of his killer. He began to run, zig zagging and screaming to Peggy to open the front door. The first shot rang out, and he heard it, and a tuft of dirt and grass arose near his feet. He kept the zig zag movements going as he ran for the house. The front door opened, and his wife Peggy stood in a half open robe, nude underneath. She had a smile on her face and a drink in her hand. Two Mexican servants were on their knees, nude, beckoning to him in Spanish, their young breasts waving with their arms in the air.