Medusa's Lair

by Kenneth L. Funderburk

  “I’m sort of the same way, Myra. This little girl is beautiful, well behaved, and very smart. Carla does a wonderful job with her.”

  “She looks at Carla as her mother. You and I are simply her aunt and uncle. I really don’t believe she remembers us from year to year. What do you think? Do we need to keep doing this?”

  “At this point, I’ll say we need to keep up this visitation. I’ll make sure she is financially well off. At some point, though, I imagine we will just need to fade into the background.”

  “You know, Larry, it’s not easy to say this, but your subconscious will hound you forever. I guess we will know when it is no longer in Sissy’s interest for us to make these yearly visits. Even now, she’s getting to the age when children don’t really like to spend time with two strangers, as you and I surely are. Larry, your children are with you at home, so they fill your need for family. But when you go home to your family, no matter how hard I try, I do at times get lonely. I fight it, but at times I envision myself with a family. I know that’s not realistic, but there you are. You can’t hide from dreams.”

  Myra knew early in life she was different. Even at age nine and ten, she began to have a sexual appetite. She and her brother, Ken, were close, so he became her first target. They both lacked respect for authority and seemed to feel no guilt in their youthful experimentation. Myra was much smarter than Ken. She knew this and became their leader. Myra was confident and self-sufficient. She was a leader, pushy and smart enough to assert herself in any situation. Handling men was never a problem for her.

  Carla was waiting when Larry and Myra arrived. Sissy and two of her friends stood at Carla’s side, waiting for the two visitors. Myra gave Sissy a few presents, which she opened with delight. The kids were loaded into the car and taken to get ice cream. After a couple of hours, the kids ventured off to play on their own. They had had all the fun with adults possible.

  The adults retreated to the veranda where they could watch the kids playing. Larry was sitting in a big wicker chair, nursing his drink, looking more like a college kid than the powerful executive he actually was. His ability to handle the financial affairs of the syndicate was unique. He had the ability to keep the intricate corporate structure in his mind. He did not have to refer to notes to move money around in a complicated dance that few could follow.

  “Tell me, Carla, are you satisfied with our arrangement?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Larry. You take very good care of me and my family.”

  “Are you having any problems with Sissy that we need to know about?”

  “No, sir. She is a great kid. There is no question in her mind about me being her mother. She really doesn’t remember who you are until I explain that to her when you come here. She really has no questions.”

  “Carla, let me give you this phone. It is only good for today and tomorrow. If you need anything during that time, please call me. We will be sure to take care of any problem before we leave.”

  The kids were called in, and they all had a snack consisting of candy, cake, and other goodies designed to please any kid.

  Good-byes were said by all, and within four hours of arriving, Larry and Myra were on their way back to Tulum where they would spend the night at their exclusive resort. Myra, in the lizard part of her brain, however, still clung to a distant thought about her responsibility as a mother. The true miracle of motherhood, however, was becoming more and more distant even in the lizard part of her brain.

  Chairman of the board of BCWB and number one of the triad sat at the head of the empty table reviewing his notes. Gilman had a round, friendly face with a permanent smile that could disarm his worst enemy. He would first meet with Larry and David to review the scheduled stockholders’ meeting for the next day, followed by the grand reception where everybody who was anybody in Massachusetts would be.

  Gilman found it somewhat amusing that in order for the triad to operate as they did, they had to be gifted magicians. Key to the deception was the large, legitimate bank BCWB, which had to be the center of attention at all times. It was the flashing object on which the public focused, allowing the sleight of hand, which was the criminal enterprise.

  Gilman liked to refer to this group as the Echeneis, or suckerfish, to remind them that they fed off their host but never enough to kill or harm the host. The flashier the host became, the easier it was to conduct their business in darkness. The suckerfish had to remain small in relation to its host.

  There were many elements about this charade that Gilman truly loved, but he was unable to identify a primary element. He loved the danger and the adrenaline rush it produced. He liked the nontaxed riches he was accumulating. He loved the power. As chairman of the board, he was powerful, but nothing was as powerful as the control over life and death. In the end, perhaps it was the fine art of deception itself that seemed to thrill him the most. What a stage on which to perform his magic.

  Larry and David came in, and the three went over the business items that would be covered in the board meeting and the stockholders’ meeting.

  There was no reference to Belize at all. The tradition was to take a short vacation after the gala event each year. It was usually billed as a working vacation. As soon as the grand gala was over, the men would go to the airport where they would each depart to one of the major markets, Miami, New Orleans, or Houston, each in his private jet. From that point, they made their own private arrangements that would eventually land them in Belize.

  Gilman had to acknowledge that even in this offline and secret activity, some planning was required, which would make it impossible for anyone to retrace their movements. No human activity can be done in a vacuum, which makes the sleight of hand more critical.

  It is the nature of the human condition that people see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. Most people are basically good and tend to trust people they know. They want to believe the best in the people they meet. All these natural tendencies become tools in the magician’s toolbox. Gilman’s toolbox was full. On top of that, he was a true, quintessential sociopath. He was the kind of guy who could cheat you over and over, and you would still trust him with your money.

  Gilman was the chairman and number one because he was loved, even by those who knew he couldn’t be trusted. Larry Moses and David Richburg served on the executive committee with him.

  The full board of directors showed up for the regular monthly meeting. Chairman Loeb, as was his custom, conducted the meeting in an orderly fashion. There were no major issues to come before the board.

  Following an uneventful stockholders’ meeting the next day, a group of six hundred invited guests gathered in the grand ballroom at the home office building of BCWB for what was always billed as the event of the year in Boston. By any measure, the event matched its billing.

  BCWB gathered national attention by donating $50 million for genetic research at the Harvard Medical School. There were at least twenty senators at the gala. Former president George Bush was there. The Bush family had already made secret donations to the medical school, but they did make the public event when he donated several of his paintings. There were enough generals and admirals to start World War III. The Kennedy family was there. It was rumored that their donation was in the neighborhood of $10 million.

  The guest speaker was former president Bill Clinton, who also made the special presentation to Chairman Loeb in recognition of the $50 million donation to the Harvard Medical School. BCWB was the largest donor to Harvard in each of the last ten years. Chairman Loeb was totally humbled by the generous gesture from President Clinton, whom Chairman Loeb recognized as a fellow traveler in the universe of magic. After watching President Clinton, Gilman did not want to compare wand sizes with him.

  Gilman totally amazed himself that his tear of humility was bona fide.

  As the night wore on, BCWB began to develop a halo. Even the good works of
Mother Teresa couldn’t hold up to the bank’s lofty level of goodness. Gilman had the distinct feeling that in the mind of this auspicious crowd, he had moved into the role of sainthood. His moon-shaped face, calm demeanor, and saintly smile seemed to predestine Gilman for this role.

  Carmen, Gilman’s girlfriend, was standing next to Gilman’s wife, Judith, both of whom acknowledged that Gilman fit the part well.

  “Well, Judith, your husband seems to have morphed into sainthood tonight. How does it feel to be married to Mr. Clean?”

  “Good question, Carmen. Do you think we could wipe that smile off of his face if we told him you and I have a thing going on behind his back?”

  Carmen gave that question a little thought, then answered, “You know, Judith, I don’t know what he would do in private, but in public he wouldn’t even blink. He would continue to smile as though he had just been told he won the lottery.”

  “I’ve often wondered about what he would do if he knew, Judith. What do you think?”

  “You first, Carmen. You know the girlfriend always has the answers.”

  “Well, look at it this way, Judith. Girls have sex in a different way with each other than with boys.”

  “You’re right. Go ahead.”

  “When you put a man in the middle, girls like us are in hog heaven, for the most part. Sometimes, of course, some resentment slips in. To boil it down, Judith, I think you and I might enjoy sex in a threesome with a lot of different men if they could handle it. But I believe Gilman would be nasty and would blow his gasket. His ego is far too big. So if he finds out, one or both of us would be seriously punished.”

  “That’s a very good analysis of Gilman, Carmen. So, it seems you and I need to keep our little secret to ourselves.”

  “That’s a good deal,” said Judith. “Let’s go to the powder room and kiss on the deal.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Later that night as Gilman relaxed on his private jet on the way to Miami, he leaned back in the chair, took off his shoes, and reviewed the day’s events. He concluded that he, in fact, was the luckiest man alive. His wealth exceeded his most ambitious dreams. He was the master of his world. He was loved and admired by many. Did he not have in abundance everything a man could desire? Gilman concluded that he was far more powerful and important than anyone at the gala tonight realized. They would never know how humble he really was.

  As Larry and Myra’s car disappeared in the distance, Carla used her regular cell phone to call her cousin, Nicolas. Nicolas had explained to her that he was in charge of Larry’s safety until he got to the private cay in Belize. She confirmed to Nicolas that they had just left and that they were going to Belize in the morning. She gave him their location in Tulum. Nicolas thanked her profusely for her part in assuring the safety of her boss, Larry.

  Peppi, Jorge, and Hernandez were all sitting around a conference table in Hernandez’s elaborate office, waiting on confirmation that Larry was present and that the meeting was on for the next day. Hernandez’s office had a nice water view. The chairs were quality leather. The conference table was handmade. The phone rang and was answered by Jorge. “Nicholas, is that you?”

  “Of course, Jorge. I’m calling to let you know Larry has left here and is headed to Belize.”

  “You are positive it is him?”

  “Of course, Jorge. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Jorge, are we now ready to execute our plan?” asked Hernandez.

  “Yes, sir. Everything is in place. Our operatives believe Larry and crowd are scheduled to meet at the resort first, and then we expect them to proceed to the yacht where the Boston group and the Sinaloa gang will conduct their conference. We’ve had to rely on several sources, but we are confident we are right. We, of course, know who runs the Sinaloa group. We’ve been able to track Miguel and will confirm when he actually boards the helicopter for this cay. We know they are all on the move, and by history, that means they are headed for their annual conference. The only one of the Boston group we have been able to pin down is the one known as Larry, as you heard from Nicholas. We are lucky that Nicolas discovered that his cousin is the titular mother of a child fathered by the banker from Boston.”

  “Okay, Jorge, I know you are good, but how in the hell did you find out that the Boston banker has anything to do with Sinaloa?” asked Hernandez.

  “As much as I would like to think that this information came to me because of my brilliance, the truth is it was pure blind luck. Nicolas has been one of my operatives in Quintana Roo and Belize for many years. His family is from that area. When we need something in that area, he is our go-to man. He was able to place one of his cousins on the Sinaloa’s private cay as a gardener. All he does is dig ditches, plant flowers, and do general hard labor. He has been there for over a year now. He can tell from the level of activity when some important event is going to happen. Based on his observations, the yacht is being provisioned for a big meeting, and the resort itself is under intense preparation for an important affair. The rumor is that the big boys are coming in tomorrow.

  “Okay. This is the deal. Larry is like the point man in charge of the resort itself. He also seems to be the point man in charge of the business named Echeneis. This is the rumor at the resort. The rumor is that when he comes down here, he sometimes stops off at Tulum to see family members, so that is how we were actually able to put this together.”

  Hernandez came to a final conclusion. “Men, we’re going to have to assume that the big guys are going to show up tomorrow in Belize and will be on the yacht.”

  Hernandez issued the order. “Get the men in place and make sure the divers are ready. Move.”

  Chapter

  18

  Myra was lost in her private thoughts as she returned to the resort near Tulum. Confronting her only child always left her in a confused and funky state of mind. She struggled with her inability to relate to her child. She could sense Sissy’s ambivalence toward her. Myra’s own narcissism left her no room for thoughts about how this might affect her only child in the long run. Myra couldn’t help her thoughts going back to her own childhood. Her mother and father were wonderful toward her. How did she come to this place in her life?

  Myra looked at her situation with Sissy as a disinterested scholar, analyzing the problem from a literary point of view. Myra could see that Larry, being a typical man, was satisfied that he was preforming his fatherly duties by supplying financial support as well as a substitute family that could provide all other needs the child might have. Analytically speaking, Myra knew one couldn’t really delegate parental responsibilities.

  Myra’s mood turned dark. She hated Sissy’s intrusion into her peaceful state of mind. Myra was certain Larry could bring a smile back to her face when they got home.

  Myra didn’t really understand why she had fallen into this funky mood. Despite her best efforts, seeing her child aggravated her soul in unexpected ways. By the time they arrived at their resort, she had concluded that their visits would have to stop. She knew that her motherly instincts barely existed. She had no desire to be a mother, so why in hell was she conflicted about this child? She didn’t have time for this.

  By the time they entered their marvelous bedroom, Myra was receptive to Larry’s advances. For the moment, she was pleased to receive the attention and submit passively to his advances rather than being the aggressor. Larry stroked her gently. He kissed her in all the right places. Their spirits unified, morphing into sex on the gentle side. The exciting stuff would come later that night. Larry could read her moods before she was fully aware of them herself. They were, and had been from college days, true soul mates. The devil himself had to be pleased that two of his most dedicated disciples could make such discordant music in concert together. Truly a unique art form.

  The light that led them down the wide road of sexual pleasure would eventually devour them. T
he white-hot breath of evil spares no one who gets too close to its light source.

  They lay in bed satisfied. Myra had the vision of two turtle doves, cooing to signify their complete satisfaction. Crap—if she could sing, she would probably muster a cooing sound herself.

  “Get your towel, Larry, and let’s go lie on the beach in the nude.”

  “You got it, love. I want to brag on my honey anyway.”

  “Now, lover, I don’t want to drag any extras into the bedroom tonight. Tonight, I’m going to be all the woman you can handle. I’ve got a few new tricks for you.”

  “I can’t wait. We’ll just go stir the pot on the beach. I’m sure I’ll get excited when I tell you my plans for Chic. I might have to fight off some of those old whores who hang around the beach. All they do is drink their whiskey and watch the beach boys to see if any of them can actually drag their dong in the water.”

  Larry phoned the bar to have drinks ready at their cabana on the beach.

  The sun was low on the western horizon. There was an onshore breeze. The beach was one of the most beautiful in the world. Off to the south, a group of nude teenagers in the prime of their lives were playing volleyball. Here, hedonism was in full bloom.

  “My god, what a scene,” muttered Larry.

  “Why in the hell do we cover up the beautiful human body like we do, Larry? At least on a warm day like today, everyone should be required to go naked.”

  “Myra, if the people in the world all looked as good as the people on this beach, I would agree. But the fat, old farts with boobs hanging down to their knees should cover up.”

  “We’ll solve that problem, love. We’ll just hang around this kind of beach, where all the bodies are beautiful. Now, tell me your plans for Mr. Chic.”

  “I’ll tell you this: before this time tomorrow night, Chic will be a dead asshole. I’m going to personally kill his ass.”