The Devil's Syndicate

by Chris Draper

  “They've got to come back for us sometime.” He said. “And when they do we'll have to think fast.”

  “But there's more of them.” She said. “And they have guns, lots of them.”

  “That didn't stop me before.” Hawk said. “All we can do now is wait until morning. We're not going to be able to do much locked in here and we both need rest after today. I don't think they'll do anything before tomorrow anyway.”

  She nodded, looked down on the floor, then moved a little closer to Hawk on the cot and looked over at him with a coy expression on her face in the darkness. One he couldn't see.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Can you hold me? I've never been so scared in all my life as I've been these past few days.”

  Hawk hesitated for a second, then said, “Alright,” and drew his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. She started sniffling and pulled him closer and he could feel the warmth of her body channel into his shoulder.

  He felt strange for a moment, almost guilty, like he was being unfaithful to Helen as she lay there in that coma back in California – but then again it wasn't anything sexual he thought, he was merely just comforting someone who'd been through a lot in a fatherly way. He wasn't a religious man but even he knew that wasn't the same thing as committing adultery. He relaxed a little, shook his head then laid down on the cot and she nestled up beside him. They stayed that while for awhile and eventually drifted off to sleep amidst the sound of the driving rains and thunder outside.

  23

  Byron Logan was angry. Angry that half of his gang had been arrested, angry that his plan to destroy the El Hombrez had been thwarted by an intruder. The only solace he had was that Martinez had been killed in the fracas, so it wasn't a total loss. He was also angry at himself, angry that he'd been duped by a fraud who pretended to be one of them. It made him look bad in front of the other Syndicate, something he utterly detested.

  But he'd gotten his revenge. He'd tortured Hawk by branding him the other night. He had enjoyed watching the man suffer, had revelled in dangling the heated wand in front of his face and forcing it into his arm. He smiled now remembering the look on Hawk's face as he branded him.

  When he'd first arrived back at the compound last night and had seen Hawk trying to flee with Dottie he'd had the urge to crush Hawk's head between his palms. He'd practiced restraint though even when Etaro had his rifle sighted on Hawk's head and all Byron would have had to do was give the signal and he'd be finished. Yet he'd decided to keep him alive for the night.

  The truth was that he wanted Hawk to suffer, wanted to see him beg on his knees and plead for his life in front of the others, and then Byron would finish him off with a bullet to the skull and make an example of him for them all to see. He enjoyed the power of controlling life and death, of dangling a man's life before his eyes only to take it away mercilessly. Which is exactly want he was going to do to Simon Hawk later that morning.

  He sat back on the couch, thinking. Tomorrow morning would be a big day for the Syndicate. That was the day they were to meet Harvey Wagner for the exchange, then Byron would use the ransom money he got for Dottie to grow the Syndicate even further. It didn't matter that some of his members were now arrested, he knew none of them would talk to the police and he could always recruit more. Finding members was the easy part, making sure they were loyal was another thing. Byron would always choose those he felt were the most exonerated from society: criminals who had no purpose, who needed somewhere to belong, something to identify with.

  And this is where the Devil's Syndicate would come into the picture. His gang provided a sense of belonging to these misguided souls, provided them with a clear focus to their nihilistic lives and at times the gang was like a living being with Byron as the heart and brain of the entire operation. Everyone who came into the Syndicate was expendable and the only way out was to be killed or arrested.

  Larry had been expendable too. Although he was Byron's blood he couldn't let that bother him. Larry's death could have been prevented but he let his feelings get in the way, and it ended up destroyed him. Byron had no time for such garbage like feelings or emotions. They clouded judgement and were a sign of weakness. Even now as he felt the anger in him slowly subside he wondered if anyone else had noticed. It was better to keep everything internal and focus on the end goal to make the Syndicate the most notorious group in the country.

  As for Wagner, Byron had other plans. There was no way Byron was going to let him and Dottie go after today, she had seen where they lived, knew too much, had to be taken care of. He would accept Wagner's ransom money of course, but afterwards do away with him and his useless daughter, dispose of them somewhere in the Everglades where no one would ever find them.

  The area for the exchange was perfect: an abandoned air field stuck in the middle of the Everglades completely secluded from the world. The isolated air field was part of a grandiose scheme in the 1960s to build the largest airport in the world right smack in the middle of the Everglades. It was planned to be a six runway airport that would accept the largest supersonic aircrafts and also provide an aviation training facility for the state of Florida. Those plans were scraped though when the project was cancelled due to environmental concerns that it would harm the ecosystem of the Everglades and the only thing there now was one lonely air field and a few boarded up buildings. And even if Wagner did end up bringing the police, Byron knew the area around there better than anyone and they could easily escape back into the undergrowth. Byron cracked a wide smile, stretched out his arms, stood up from the couch and strolled down the hall towards the locked cell.

  It was time for Hawk to die.

  ≈

  Hawk had fallen asleep, was awakened by the loud clang of thunder erupting somewhere outside. It was dark still, but a faint glimmer of dawn crept through the barred windows. His arm was still sore and he wished he had some painkillers but tried focusing on anything besides the throbbing. He could see the brand more clearly now and the sight of it made him feel sick to his stomach, but at the same time filled him with a determination to succeed here even more. He would take down the Devil's Syndicate and Byron Logan along with it. He owed that to himself as well as Dottie. He looked down, saw she had fallen asleep curled up beside him, his jacket covering her body. The room felt cold and damp and Hawk could still hear the rain outside the window pelting the trees and forest.

  He knew that today Dottie would be reunited with her father. He also knew that soon Byron and the rest of them would come back and try to finish him off. He felt tired, wished he could sleep more, but couldn't keep his mind from racing. Any minute Byron was going to come through that door, so he had to remain alert, be ready for whatever was coming. He sat up and Dottie stirred gently beside him, then he gently crawled out of the bed, stood on the cold floor in his bare feet. He hadn't showered in a week and could feel the scruff taking over his face; the jeans and shirt the Syndicate had given him had become dirty and he felt like a ragged old beggar. Dottie stirred again, raised her head, still half asleep.

  “Simon?” She called out. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He said softly. “Just trying to stretch a little, still feeling a bit run down from yesterday.”

  “Are you going to come back to sleep?”

  “I think I'll stay up for a bit, want to have a clear head for the day. You should get some rest though, you're gonna need it.”

  She yawned, stretched out her arms, then sat up on the bed. “Are you scared?”

  “Not scared no, maybe just a little anxious. Today's gonna be a big day for the both of us.”

  “I know.” She said and drew the jacket around her body. “When do you think they'll come?”

  “Whenever they're ready I guess.” Hawk said and shuffled over to the door, putting his ear against the cover flap. “I think I hear somebody.”

  Dottie got up quickly, stood beside Hawk at the door and list
ened.

  “I think it's Byron.” She said. “I can tell by the kind of boots he wears, they make this squishy sound whenever he steps off each foot, like they're always wet.”

  Hawk listened again, said, “I think you're right.” Then backed off from the door a little pulling Dottie back with him. A second later they heard a key in the lock and the steel door opened and Byron was standing there with Randall and Travis who held a coil of rope in one hand.

  “How's your arm?” Byron asked stepping into the room.

  “How do you think?”

  Byron smiled but ignored him. “I presume you know why we're here Hawk, it's time.”

  “Now seems about as good a time as any.” Hawk said and stepped back a bit as Travis and Randall came towards him.

  “Surely you knew I had no intention of letting you live much longer. That business with your arm last night was just for kicks.”

  “Yeah seems like something a man like you would get off on.”

  “Don't try to fight it Hawk.” Byron said. “Just surrender to the inevitable. Your life must end just as anyone else's.

  Hawk saw the rope in Travis' hand, tried making a grab for it but Randall grabbed him, held him there while Travis went behind him, grabbed his arms, tied his hands tightly behind his back. Hawk tried fighting but Randall was too strong and held him as firm as a plank and Travis came over and pistol whipped Hawk in the back of the skull with the end of a handgun, then gave the handgun to Byron. Dottie screamed to let him go as they dragged him out the door but Byron held her there, made sure she didn't try to run, then slammed the door shut and Dottie heard him lock it. They forced him down the hall, and Travis opened the front door of the compound and they pushed him out there. Hawk looked back and saw they were joined by Etaro who he thought had a hunting rifle in his hands.

  Hawk was having trouble staying on his own two feet now – everything was getting a little woozy from the hits Travis had administered to the back of his skull. He knew now was the time to fight but his mind was in a confused state, a jumble of blurred visions and confused thoughts. He tried to focus but even the cold rain blasting out from the clouds didn't have much of a sobering effect on him. He could tell though that it was morning, and the wind was horrible, whipping against his face like he was being crushed by a tornado.

  They seemed to stagger onwards toward a clearing of grass and he could hear the currents rushing in a fury below. They dropped him there, about three feet from the river's edge, and he felt someone push his shoulders down so that he fell to his knees.

  The wind was strong in the clearing as there was no cover from the trees and Hawk felt the cold air blowing through his t-shirt, rustling against his wet skin like a blade of ice. He looked in front of him and through his haze thought he saw a fresh clump of dirt in the ground a few feet ahead – Larry's grave. They must have buried him sometime that morning. He sat there on his knees, then saw a figure step in front of his field of vision, a gun hanging in one hand. He then heard a low growl of a voice call out above him somewhere and recognized it as Byron Logan's.

  “You sure picked a good day to die Hawk.”

  ≈

  Inside the compound Dottie was pounding on the steeldoor to her cell, screaming to let her go. She knew where they were taking Hawk, knew he was a goner if she didn't find a way out. Outside the door Stacey was leaned against a wall, smoking a cigarette reading news on the El Hombrez raid. The raid had made the front page on all the major newspapers in the country but there was no mention of the Syndicate anywhere. Byron was right – none of the arrested members had talked. She became annoyed at Dottie's screams, sighed and put down her newspaper, went up to the door and opened the flap.

  “You better pipe up or I'll come in there and beat your ass.” Stacey said. “Too bad your friend isn't gonna make it, he wasn't a bad looking dude either.”

  “Let me out of here!” Dottie screamed in her face. “Let him go!”

  “You know we can't do that.” Stacey said taking a long drag from her cigarette. She held it in for a second then blew it out into Dottie's face. “He's dead weight for the Syndicate. And you know what else? I think I'm gonna miss having you here. It was nice having another woman around, even if she was a little whore.”

  “Bitch!” Dottie screamed and pounded on the door again, but Stacey laughed, slammed the cover flap closed and went back to reading her newspaper by the wall. Dottie felt hopeless, sat back down on the bed and drew her hands through her hair. There was nothing she could do to help him now. Hawk was on his own.

  ≈

  Clyde had spent the night traveling through the darkness of the Everglades and felt he was getting closer to the building where he'd left Hawk. He had good knowledge of the area and vaguely remembered the map Abji had drawn up for them in Imokalee. The journey there hadn't been easy and twice the storm had almost toppled a tree onto him and he had to get out of the airboat and clear the branches away from his path. Hurricane Hector was in full force now and the Everglades reeled in its wake.

  Miraculously he'd made a wrong turn only once navigating the river at night and was able to turn back a few minutes after noticing he was off. He'd worn his rain suit, with rubber boots, but the heavy rain still found a way under his clothes and he longed to be back home in a hot shower.

  He recognized the area where they'd first spotted the building and took out his binoculars. Sure enough, up ahead in the distance he saw the same grey structure looming up like a medieval fortress. He tried looking ahead to see if there was anyone patrolling the grounds but visibility in the driving rain was next to none so he let the airboat coast the rest of the way to the nearest shore. When he reached it he parked the boat as best as he could – tied up to a fallen log – then carefully hopped out, grabbed his shotgun, and waded through towards the shore a foot ahead of him. The earth there was slippery, rank with mud and he had to grab hold of a bush on land and pull himself up the rest of the way.

  He then combed his way through the trees, keeping low, towards the grey brick building in the distance. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing or hearing him as the rain and thunder provided excellent cover. It took him longer to walk on land then he'd assumed though, as the ground was thick with mud and often his rubber boots would get pulled into the muck and make a sucking sound when he yanked them back out. The vegetation there was also heavily grown in and he had to swat low hanging branches and bush out of his way with the end of his shotgun. He had brought a compass with him in the pocket of his raincoat and several times had to check it to make sure he was still headed in the right direction. Some trees fell over somewhere just out of sight, and he started to feel a pang of guilt for leaving his family behind. He'd underestimated just how bad Hurricane Hector was and decided he would head back as soon as he found Hawk. If he did find him that is.

  When he thought he was close enough to the building he came out of the trees and almost ran smack right into the back of it. He looked around but didn't see anyone then quickly jogged around to the left side and crept around to the front, peeking his head around corners as he did so. He found the front door unlocked and slipped inside. It was pretty dark in there and the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling flickered occasionally. Clyde was amazed they had power at all out here and he thought the place looked like a converted warehouse with a living quarters. He didn't see anyone in there, thought about calling out Hawk's name but knew it wouldn't be a good idea, noticed a hallway to his right and crept over to the wall beside. Listened. There was someone there. He could hear a woman's cough, probably only a few feet down the hallway. Slowly he peeked around the edge, saw a chubby blonde woman reading a newspaper leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. She was wearing one of the leather jackets he'd seen the gang wear on TV and had a gun by her feet. He didn't see anyone else around, figured she must have been left here to guard the place. Clyde slowly took off his wet rubber boots to avoid making any sounds and crept around the corner, holding his rainsuit agains
t himself so it wouldn't brush against his body. He raised the shotgun in his left hand, approached the blonde woman and got to within 3 metres of her when she sensed someone was there, looked up from her newspaper, and dropped the cigarette out of her mouth in shock.

  “Who the fuck...?”

  “Kick that thing over here.” Clyde said nodding at the gun by her feet. “Do it slowly.”

  She stood there for a second, unable to comprehend who this stranger was in a yellow rain suit, then kicked the gun over to Clyde and he picked it up, unloaded the bullets onto the floor and tossed it behind him.

  Clyde nodded at the door she was guarding. “What's in there?”

  “Why should I tell you anything?” Stacey said. “How did you get by the others?”

  “What others? I didn't see anyone.” Clyde stepped closer. “Now again, what's in the room?”

  “I don't have to tell you anything.”

  “I think the gun aimed at your stomach would disagree.”

  She looked down at the barrel aimed at her and sighed. “Have a look for yourself if you're so curious big man.”

  Clyde kept an eye on her, backed up to the door, quickly opened the flap, saw a blonde girl in there laying on a small bed. She looked dishevelled and her face was concealed by a pillow covering half her head. “Who's she?” He asked looking back at Stacey.

  Stacey shrugged, “I don't know.”

  “Maybe this will help uncloud your memory.” Clyde said pushing the gun into her breast.

  “Jesus, take it easy dude!” She said backing off. “She's the daughter of some businessman, we're keeping her locked up in there for now.”

  A light went on in Clyde's head and he remembered the girl Hawk had said he was trying to rescue. The fact that she was still locked up worried Clyde a little. Had Hawk not been here after all? Had he been killed trying to save her? He thought about this for a second, then saw some keys dangling by the woman's hip.