by Daniel Jeudy
The Old Man inspected his fingernails.
“There is one bullet, and it’s already chambered for your convenience,” he said. “Rest assured that if you somehow live through this, we’ll eventually get around to finishing the job. Should you attempt anything ridiculous, I’ll bleed you out slower than you could imagine, then I’ll go after your offspring to ensure no trace of you is left behind.”
Frank whimpered while placing the barrel in his mouth.
The Old Man was stone-faced as he waited. “Make sure to point the gun up … Three seconds,” he reminded.
Frank roared as he squeezed the trigger, blowing a chunk out of his skull before collapsing onto the floor with twitching limbs like a dying bug. The life disappeared from his eyes in one magical puff while the room permeated an aroma of molten steel.
The Riverses’ mansion on Crescent Bay Drive featured large, sweeping lawns, uninhibited ocean views, and lots of privacy—a wonderful setting to orchestrate Frank’s suicide. Serena and the kids weren’t anticipated to be home until late afternoon, by which time Frank would be stone cold and stiff. Ms. Rivers was also an attorney, and perhaps a tiny part of her might feel saddened by his sudden passing, but the Old Man knew of her ongoing affair with a younger intern. The lovebirds met at a hotel several times a week, and Frank preferred cock to cunt, so the Old Man didn’t envision Serena mourning him long.
Ghost crouched beside Frank’s body.
“Well, that was super fucking easy,” he said.
“It usually is,” the Old Man replied.
Ghost operated a world-class security firm from an office Downtown. He supplied fully integrated IP network CCTV, remote access control, and intruder detection alarms to his most affluent clientele. The Old Man ordered every Filii Reprobi to use the company, which enabled him to access their properties in moments like this.
Not that he ever did much with Ghost at hand. The fine fellow worked as an assassin in the CIA’s anti-terrorism unit for twenty years, where he developed a unique skill array. He’d proven dependable on every occasion the Old Man had used his services, getting the job across the line in a clean and untraceable fashion. After their meeting the night before, Ghost contacted a forensic accountant to make it appear as though Frank had been gambling away his fortune. Then he arranged for his mole inside the Treasury Department to clean house and make sure there was nothing that could be traced back to Filii Reprobi.
“I’m going to be another hour,” Ghost explained. “I have to swap out the sim card in the CCTV and do a sweep through Frank’s study. I want to be sure there isn’t anything here that will keep the Feds interested. I’ve also got to give this area a proper wipe down to remove any fibers we walked inside. Should I call one of my drivers to come get you?”
The Old Man looked at the latex gloves on his hands. “That won’t be necessary, but thanks all the same. I’ll take your car. I often do my best thinking while I drive. You can arrange a lift back when you’re done.”
Ghost maintained concentration as he hiked his shoulders. “Sure thing; you’re the one paying the Benjamins.”
“Are you confident this plan of yours will send the FBI away?”
“So long as the two detectives play their part, then it’s pretty much guaranteed. By this time tomorrow, the Feds will be holed up in a bar, getting rat-assed in celebration of a job well done. The detectives will be forced into a corner, and the loose ends will be tied off. Special Agent Sharp will have other priorities within forty-eight hours.”
The Old Man’s face remained expressionless. “That’s very good to know,” he replied dryly.
He watched the former spook going about his work. They’d arranged to have Larry Springfield intercepted at the airport when he set foot onto the tarmac. There was no need for them to rush things here either. His plant at the FBI was going to call well before their surveillance detail rolled out.
The Old Man reflected upon his meeting with Edward later tonight. The boy likely felt apprehensive about going to the Adelanto compound and would come armed. Paige Harding’s photo had featured on Fox earlier that morning, and she spiritually resembled Linda Jones. It was the reason why Edward suddenly wanted to make things right. But the situation had taken an irrevocable turn, and the simplest way to restore order was by giving the authorities what they were anticipating—a drug-abusing psychopath with a monstrous appetite for murder. Edward’s collection of rotting corpses beneath the shack at the back of his property would add further credence to the narrative.
News headlines kicked into overdrive after Jennifer Hill’s corpse was found up at Mount Lee. “The most terrifying killer since Bundy?” suggested the Times, and CNN provided an update on the investigation at the top of each hour. Edward’s shenanigans at Secret Gardens were guaranteed to intensify things, and the Old Man promised to deliver a final twist.
He intended to drop a watertight case onto the mayor’s desk by tomorrow. The slippery fool was another Filii Reprobi puppet, and the Old Man possessed a large file that contained his misdemeanors. If the detectives’ curiosity proved to be untreatable, then Ghost would find a way to eradicate the problem for good.
When Meagan Banks arrived at the chapel the other night, one thing became apparent. She was someone Edward thought he could trust. The Old Man demanded the lovely doctor be present for their rendezvous later this evening. He expected her to make amends for the terrible judgment she displayed by getting involved. Meagan’s presence would create a false sense of security before Ghost moved in to finish him.
Edward was much stronger than an average person, although it wouldn’t make a lick of difference in this instance. Ghost had mastered several fighting styles such as Brazilian-jiu-jitsu, karate, and Krav Maga, and he never conceded until his target was dead.
Ghost didn’t present as much of a threat, making it easy for him to blend into a crowd. Yet despite a modest appearance, the guy was an angel of death. He’d taught the Old Man different forms of body disposal and the best ways to sanitize a room when he finished having fun. The only thing he cared about was getting paid when he completed the job.
The Old Man planned to leave Paige Harding alive; her testimony would help paint his picture. Ghost had listened carefully to the recorded audio at Edward’s ranch, and he had spoken nothing problematic to the girl. At least the boy managed to get that part right. Nevertheless, in a week from now, Edward’s brief reign of horror would be a fading memory while Filii Reprobi continued hiding in plain sight.
Fifty-One
They were in the process of deciding where the best position for the surveillance detail might be when a flustered agent with a bald head came bursting into the room.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, but a call has just come through about a possible suicide of an adult male at Laguna Beach. We’re still awaiting clarification on the details, but the incident occurred at the Crescent Avenue address we’re getting eyes on.”
None of them wanted to believe what they’d just heard or consider how it might impact the investigation.
“Fuck!” Sharp yelled. “What else do you know, Mark?”
The rattled agent looked like he was sweating bullets. “All we know at this stage is that the son made a call to 9-1-1 at 4:13 p.m. When the EMT van arrived fifteen minutes later, they found a fifty-three-year-old expired at the scene. The medical examiner is there right now.”
Sharp slammed his fist onto the desk. “Damnit, Frank Rivers is fifty-three!” he exploded.
“How do you want to proceed, sir?” Mark asked, uncertain.
Sharp looked at Addison; hellfire smoldered in his eyes. “Go tell everyone the whole thing’s off.”
“Yes, sir,” Mark replied, scurrying his way back out the door.
Katy Pearce leaned forward in her chair, a dubious look on her face. “Do you guys think Sarah Parker may have given them a warning?” she suggested half-heartedly, looking first to Sharp, then to Addison, doing her best to disregard Jed.
“No, I don’t think so,” Addison replied. “Parker was terrified about word getting back to Filii Reprobi, and her fears were certainly no act. We should probably hotfoot it to the scene. Whoever’s over there now won’t even know what they’re looking for.”
Jed had been subdued during the afternoon as he pretended not to notice the way Pearce was sizing him up. But this turn of events switched his brain into an analytic model.
“A mega-rich lawyer happens to commit suicide on the day we’re getting eyes on him,” Jed asserted cynically. “Either he woke up this morning and decided he no longer wanted his perfect life, or we’ve got ourselves a rat who’s alerted Filii Reprobi, and everything is much bigger than any of us anticipated. Just like the preacher claimed it was.”
The kid’s statement threatened each of them differently.
Pearce cut back in.
“Do you guys believe these assholes are killing women with increasing intent? And what, now they’re turning on each other? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Addison cultivated a picture that had previously been disjointed.
“Perhaps it makes perfect sense.”
Sharp looked slightly irritated.
“Where are you coming from, Addison?” he challenged.
“What if one of their people has gone rogue? Maybe they let it slide until now because they presumed whoever was responsible would fall back into line. If Jed’s right about us having an infiltrator in our ranks, then perhaps they decided to eradicate the threat.”
Sharp remained noncommittal.
“How does Frank Rivers’s potential suicide fit into that theory?” he challenged.
“We may have unintentionally contributed to his demise when we interviewed Sarah Parker. They didn’t want us getting to Rivers, and now he’s become collateral damage.”
“What do you propose we should do?” Jed asked. “We can’t sit back and wait while these scumbags play shuffleboard with people’s lives. But if someone is compromised on this end, then everything we do will likely be one step behind them.”
Addison furrowed his brow.
“Well, I know the leak hasn’t come from the LAPD.”
“What are you saying, Addison?” Sharp said.
“There are only three people in the homicide division who knew about Sarah Parker and Filii Reprobi. Two of them are sitting in this room, and the other one is the lieutenant.”
Sharp and Pearce exchanged a cursory glance.
“We’re not even sure Frank Rivers is affiliated with Filii Reprobi,” Sharp replied uncomfortably. “How about we head over to Laguna Beach and look around his house. Let’s speak with the coroner to determine whether his death was the consequence of suicide before we go making any assumptions about guilt.”
Jed appeared as if he’d thought of something important.
“How about dragging Springfield’s ass in tonight?” he suggested.
Sharp considered the idea before shaking his head.
“If we do that, it compromises any surveillance on him in the future. I’ll send some of our guys out to the airport, though, just to be sure he makes it home in one piece.”
A hesitant knock on the door brought the discussion to a pause as everyone turned to see Mark reenter the room. Rivulets of sweat trickled down from the top of the agent’s head; his puffy rose-colored cheeks made him look like a goldfish.
“The deceased has been formally identified as Frank Rivers. His wife is speaking with the examiner right now,” he said, almost apologetic.
Sharp appeared on the verge of self-imploding. “Who’s in charge of the fucking scene?” he demanded.
“Uh … I’m not sure, sir,” the agent stammered.
“Well, get your ass on the phone and explain to whoever’s running things over there that it falls under FBI jurisdiction. Tell them to secure the place until we arrive.”
Mark scurried outside like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Addison turned his attention to Sharp. “We need to get eyes on Tony Anders and Sally Ferguson, Rick.”
Sharp nodded wearily. “I’ll get Mark to set something up before we head out.”
Addison hoped Mark was more competent at keeping people safe than he seemed.
“I’ve got Tony’s number,” he said. “I’ll call him from the car to let him know he needs to be on high alert. The last thing I want is to have their deaths riding my conscience.”
“What about Sarah Parker?” Pearce asked.
Sharp exhaled, frustrated, and gaped up at the ceiling. “Well, we sure as fuck can’t call her, but I’ll get a car up the street from her house. With any luck, she hasn’t already done herself like her cousin. Not that she’d be missed, I imagine.”
No one responded.
“Where are you guys parked?” Sharp asked.
“Out front,” Addison replied.
“Okay, after I speak with Mark, we’ll move out.”
Addison watched Sharp leave the room, noting how he appeared much less confident than when they’d first met inside Collins’s office a couple of days earlier.
Fifty-Two
Edward closed the driver door of his Lincoln Navigator and began making his way to the chapel. He patted the shoulder holster beneath his jacket, self-assured as always, confident of remaining one move ahead of his rivals, whoever they might be.
Meagan called in the afternoon to explain how the Old Man expected her to attend their little meeting as well, most likely so he could rebuke them both together. There was nothing to suggest he was being set up, but the firearm provided additional reassurance if he’d misread the situation. Edward cast a keen eye around the perimeter of the compound, readying himself for any sudden attack.
Meagan’s Mercedes was parked beside the Old Man’s Cadillac, and there was nothing that might be considered out of place. The sun had faded behind a molten sky as creeping shadows swayed across the area where he now stood.
This rubbish couldn’t get squared away soon enough because he sure as hell wasn’t enjoying looking over his shoulder. Edward considered how Paige was getting on back at the ranch while he approached the chapel doors. They’d made some stunted progress during the day, and despite the fact she resisted his contact, he sensed her defiance waning.
Paige objected when he told her to spread her thighs, so he presented her with a set of spoiling body parts until her insolence stopped. It turned out to be a dry fuck, although that was to be expected. It would likely be some time before she desired his cock.
Edward moved through the chapel entrance with caution, listening to the murmur of conversation as it filtered down from the Old Man’s chamber. When he was satisfied only two voices were coming from inside the room, he continued through the hall and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” the Old Man called out cheerfully.
Edward took a deep breath in preparation for whatever chastening awaited him before entering the sanctuary. He saw Meagan Banks seated in a chair near the Old Man’s desk. Her long legs, coated with tanning oil, glistened appealingly. The contemporary office was spotlessly clean with a gray polished concrete floor. An asshole Scandinavian designer crafted each piece of furniture, and everything had been positioned in a way to create a fundamental sense of internal discomfort. Tight lines and neutral hues underscored the bland ambiance. It provoked a memory of the sterile tones that received him whenever he met with his psychiatrist as a child. It was a soulless room of imagined tranquility that amplified the commotion inside his brain.
Meagan greeted him with a friendly smile, unveiling a row of shiny teeth she’d spent thousands of dollars refining. “Hello,” she said, her eyes ablaze with excitement.
Edward courteously acknowledged them both before taking a seat. His heart was thumping, and he became suddenly apprehensive as the Old Man leaned forward on his desk with a smirk that revealed nothing of his intent.
“Your actions over the past couple of weeks have made a lot of people unhappy, Edward.
Some of them are demanding your head, screaming for it from the rooftops. It was nice to learn you will no longer be leaving your corpses in the Hollywood Hills; however, I still need to be seen as somebody who maintains harmony. So, what do you suggest I should do to appease those among us who wish to see you punished?”
Edward had predicted this type of question on the drive over and was confident that the solution he’d come up with would prove satisfactory.
“Tell the stupid saps I will be serving an enforced suspension of six months and paying a large fine for the way I went about business. They are all so fucking attuned to their weekends here that a six-month ban will seem like a lifetime. But I won’t be getting my balls zapped with a cattle prod or having my arms nailed to any walls. I believe I have a valid enough reason for doing what I did. Though in hindsight, if I could have my time over again, I would be sure to work in a manner which is more befitting of my membership.”
The Old Man looked at Meagan and chuckled.
“While I agree hindsight can prove somewhat beneficial on occasion, it’s always better to employ foresight, I believe. But each to their own, I suppose.”
Edward felt like pulling out his gun and just shooting them both in the face. Especially Meagan Banks, the sycophantic bootlicking cunt that she was. Instead, he imagined smashing her face in with a hammer while he smiled graciously and nodded.
“Fortunately,” the Old Man continued, “I have decided upon a way for us all to move forward. I’m sure you will agree that my proposal meets with all Filii Reprobi conditions.”
Meagan rearranged herself in the chair, folding one sparkling leg over the other, so it pointed toward Edward. She was dressed like a slutty whore in a bottle-green skirt which barely covered her ass. Meagan had a mouth that could suck the chrome off a steel shifter; the bitch had appraised more cock than a B-grade porn star. Though she certainly knew how to stir a person into sexual enthusiasm, and Edward felt himself go hard despite the situation.
