The Palm Reader

by Christopher Bowron

  Jack said, “I’m sure I remember the door as well, but this is my deal. I don’t want to put you guys at risk. Besides, they’ll probably beat the shit out of me.” He rubbed his jaw.

  “Yes. They will want to get you out of the way quickly, maybe even take you to where you cannot be seen or found.”

  “Great, so I’m the sacrificial lamb? Now I’m not liking this.”

  “This is all a big risk, Jack. We have to count on there being a back way into the place. I’m confident.”

  Perry asked, “Why don’t we call the cops? Just sayin’.”

  “No way. They’re gonna get another warrant and embarrass themselves. They’ve searched the place already. It came up clean. Besides, if my gramps is in there, he may not have much time. I’m not going to risk it. They killed Josh, and nearly got Janie and I tonight. I’m taking this personally.” Scratching his head, he said, “What good are you guys gonna be without me?”

  Janie smiled for the first time in a while. “I was thinking the opposite. Remember, I’ve done this sort of thing many times investigating shady people. I can get in that man door in seconds. I have a gun and won’t hesitate to use it. If your gramps is in there, I’ll find him. We’ll keep the car close and make a quick exit.”

  “What about me? You might get Gramps out and never see me again.”

  “Not saying you crash the place, only that you make an entrance and ask to speak with Eli, saying you wanna reconcile your differences. You’re the one who wants to be the hero.”

  Jack flushed. “Like hell, Janie, that’s not it at all. I don’t care if anyone finds out about this; it’s personal.”

  “We do have to bank on being able to get in the back way. But even if they do try to detain you, you’ll most likely find Gramps. Anyone have a better idea?”

  Jack thought about it for a moment. “Not really, but let me think about it while we drive.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  LOLITA FELT AS IF she’d been jilted by a lover. The attraction to Jackson Walker was not sensual in any way. It was a spiritual connection. She also felt a connection with Gramps.

  She went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, the only hard alcohol in the house. Lolita definitely needed a shot and Solomon’s watery Budweiser would not do. She poured three fingers and knocked it back. Moving to her lounge, she sat in the big, overstuffed rickety chair and lit a few candles, the ones easy to reach while seated. The tarot called her name. She pulled the deck out of the table drawer and held it as if it might make her feel better. It didn’t; in fact, it seemed to make matters worse. Her eyes teared up.

  She wanted to see if the spirits might talk to her. That didn’t occur very often, but it seemed worth a try. Lolita placed a large natural crystal on the round table. Crystal held great power when trying to attract the netherworld. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind while the booze relaxed her. She placed her hands on the crystal. What happened next nearly killed her. She felt the blood vessels in her brain expanding, her neck bulge, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Then things calmed.

  She was in a car, sleepy, her eyes opening and closing. She looked at her hands. They were not hers. There was a young man driving the car. She didn’t recognize him. She could detect the presence of another person in the back, female. They were on a highway, I-75—she saw the signs passing: North Ft. Myers. She remained for a few more minutes. Tampa 90 miles. She settled in. He’s heading to Tampa. NO! He can’t go there. Then he fell asleep.

  The great bird soared high in the moonlit sky. Through her eyes, Lolita saw the Everglades below, a long twisty river. It was a ride like she’d never experienced, nor would she again. Walker possessed a familiar. Amazing, he truly does have exceptional powers. The bird flew straight up and dove straight down. She felt the wind blowing through the feathers and she tucked her wings to her sides. Then the wings extended, the wind slowing as the massive feathers caught the desired resistance. She flew low, a dozen feet above the water, banking sharply to the left, narrowly missing the pillars of a long decrepit wooden dock fingering out into the river. There was a large shed or barn to the left. A light inside was turned on. To the right, a large plantation house, in bad repair. The grounds were littered with old cars, the grass so long it fell over on itself. Then she zeroed in on one specific car: the car that had followed Nathaniel after he dropped off Lolita.

  “No!” Jack yelled, and Lolita was pushed away from the vision. Everything was pushed away: the bird, the warm night sky, the wind, and the moonlight. Jack didn’t recognize the car. But he knew the place.

  Lolita woke, her hands cut from gripping the crystal. She yelped with pain and heartache. “Walker is going the wrong way. The Russians. They will kill him. No!” She did not recognize that other place, but she was sure Jackson did. She needed to get to Tampa in a hurry.

  She pulled up Uber on her phone. Once her ride was secured, she reached high on one of the kitchen shelves and pulled down a tin box filled with twenty-dollar bills. Once she stuffed a wad of them into a fold in her dress, she ran downstairs and entered Solomon’s domain. Lolita seldom went there. It was a place full of bad memories. Peeling back a piece of wall paneling revealed a cupboard stacked full of tapes and DVDs. At the bottom of the shelf was an old paper bag. She pulled it from the cupboard, sealing the space back up.

  In the bag was a Ruger LCP .380, no bigger than her wide hand. It was already loaded with five in the mag and one in the chamber. It all belonged to Solomon. He bought it for protection when he moved to wild New Orleans from churchgoing Louisville. The weapon had never been shot in anger. Lolita hoped it still worked.

  It was time to bring out her favorite wig. Opening the cabinet, she pulled down a white Styrofoam head with an amazing high wig. Touching the curly cap of dark hair, she stroked the dozens of long dreadlocks sprouting from the built-up back of the wig. Smiling in the dressing table mirror, her fingers searched the high top until she felt the tiny snap. Pulling it to open exposed a small compartment built inside the back rise. The handgun just fit. Securing the snap, then securing the tall wig on her head, Lolita was ready to leave.

  She saw her ride sitting out front. The headlights streamed through the reception area bay window. Locking the front door behind her, she shuffled down to the back door of the waiting car. Once inside, she smiled at the young Hispanic male. Perfect.

  “You goin’ to Tampa, ma’am?”

  “Yes. You got that right. How fast can you get me there?”

  “Two and a half.”

  “If I give you an extra hundred dollars cash, can you get me there in less than two?”

  “As long as you are no uncomfortable, yes ma’am.”

  “Let’s get going, then. What’s your name?”

  “Hernando.”

  She smiled in the rearview mirror. “There was a great song written about you!”

  He laughed, “Sí, the ‘Hideaway’!”

  They both laughed as he pulled out a device and fastened it to the sun visor, plugging an attached wire into the cigarette lighter.

  “You have a radar detector? I didn’t think those things existed anymore.”

  “This is good one. We catch the cops, but cops no catch us.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Lolita said. Jackson’s life might depend on it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  GRAMPS WOKE FROM A catnap. He could not believe he’d fallen asleep on the verge of what most likely would be his death. He once again wrote off his need for slumber to old age.

  Mason noted his awakening. “Did you have a good sleep, Nathaniel? I hope so. Our guests shall be arriving soon. I hope Jack can make it. He doesn’t seem to want to pick up his phone. Never mind, I’ve left him a few photos. They might help him realize where you are.”

  A shock of alarm went off in his head. Jackson? Worry about what Mason was cooking up overcame him and he needed to know more. “Who are these guests?”

  “Our most esteem
ed guest will be your grandson. I hope he arrives before the witching hour. That will be when we begin our first sermon. Coincidentally, it will also be when we sacrifice you to a particularly nasty demon. Among our other guests will be a few high-ranking members of the Church of Satan, those who might remain of the Church of Set, and an esteemed member of the Illuminati.”

  Gramps smiled sardonically. “There’s no such thing as the Illuminati and you know it.”

  Mason frowned at the old man. “Oh, but there is, and we take our direction from their wisdom. You see, there is an order to all things. The Illuminati sit at the top of the food chain, just below Satan, of course.”

  “Of course!” Gramps nodded, his sarcasm evident. “You never heard the Illuminati were invented by a political party to undermine the credibility of the opposition.”

  “Nathaniel, you can choose to believe what you want. You will be dead to this world by morning and suffering your first day in the fires of eternal Hell. A comforting thought, no?”

  Gramps chuckled. “Just because I’m being murdered by Satanists doesn’t mean I’ll be going to Hell. I do not follow your logic. I have lived at peace with nature and the spirit world my entire life. I will return to Mother Earth in one form or another to be used again to create her many miracles. What you do to my flesh will have no bearing on my eternal existence. You, though, do deserve to rot in Hell.” He laughed. “Did he promise you forty virgins?”

  Mason only smiled and rubbed his hands together. “I know Satan looks out for those who do his earthly work. And yes, I would expect preferential treatment. Enjoy what time you have left.”

  Gramps shook his head and settled back into the stinky, broken-down couch. He wasn’t able to see much. Mason Matye seemed hell-bent on retribution. In his youth, Gramps would have tried to take the man. Being nearly eighty-one, the struggle would be futile. Logic told Nathaniel he had only one chance: his grandson. Jackson might figure out what was going on at the deserted McFadden place and come up with a solution.

  Nathaniel sighed. Jackson was smart enough but so impulsive, often reacting without thinking. Still, his grandson might be the fatal flaw for Mason, who Gramps had to admit was a cool operator. He watched the little Frenchman making room for his guests to sit around the pentagram. He placed dozens of candles in what appeared to be strategic locations, all carefully measured to the inch. The mortician’s table was placed over the north section of the pentagram. When he finished setting up the room, he sat beside Gramps.

  “I must tell you, Nathaniel, I’ve placed a strong curse upon Jackson. He will have flu-like symptoms and be feeling weak.”

  Gramps remembered how Jack complained the last time he saw him about feeling ill. His eyes narrowed at Mason.

  “Do you believe in curses, Nathaniel?”

  Gramps nodded. “We Natives have been known to delve into the dark arts, though we are more inclined to use the magic for good. To bring two lovers together for the birth of a child. We use words to keep dark spirits at bay.”

  “This curse will allow me to control him when he gets close enough.”

  “I wish you luck, Mason.” He could not stop staring at the horrible little man frowning back at him for his continued sarcasm. Gramps would have to try to fight off the incantation placed on his grandson. He had but one talisman to work with and feared the pendant around his neck would not have the strength needed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  THE MILES CLICKED BY, but Boris was not in any hurry to return to Tampa. The thought crossed his mind that he might be better off skipping past the city and driving to Tallahassee. Though he’d been friends with Eli since childhood, Boris knew how his boss would not condone the level of failure he had attained over the past week or so. Eli would have to be especially hard on him, or else show weakness to the other men.

  He pulled into a coffee shop near Sarasota, almost blind because his eyes were so tired. He needed to sit and build up his courage for what lay ahead of him in less than an hour. If he ran, Eli would hunt him down. Boris knew too much and would end up a dead man. His only hope was Eli merely shaming him by demoting him to a lesser job. The demotion would be an embarrassment the others in Eli’s employ would see as a punishment. While it would be a tough pill for Boris to swallow, it would allow him the chance to redeem himself. He knew in his gut that time would come.

  ****

  Eli swallowed the sour backwash coming from his stomach. He was in a foul mood, and deservedly so. How did the Walker scenario pick up steam rather than disappearing? It needed to go away; it was becoming too public. Boris’s failure to take the little prick out this evening could have been their last chance. Now it would be too obvious that they were behind it. News of Walker’s cousin being murdered made things even more tenuous. No doubt in the young lawyer’s mind Eli was the culprit. There was nothing more to do than lay low, dial back, and wait for the little jerk to come to him.

  What to do with Boris? Eli knew the man would give his life for him. Still, there needed to be repercussions for failure. What they did on a daily basis required a chain of command—one seen as unfaltering. This was a tough business. The chain being broken, Boris needed to be knocked down a peg. Eli wouldn’t kill him, but he needed to be tough. The hard part was the fact that Boris would condone it. He would expect no less. It would be like beating a faithful dog. He would take it ungrudgingly.

  Eli needed to blow off steam and think about what to do. Standing up from his desk in the upper office, he walked out into Aversions. He’d had his eye on a new girl, Tabitha, a very petite blond who looked like a Barbie doll. She would do. He pointed at her. She looked up at him questioningly. One of the other girls was quick to whisper in her ear the nature of Eli’s summons. Barbie looked back at Eli with a shocked expression, her lips tightly closed. The other girls practically had to push her to the stairs . . . to Eli.

  When she made it to his side, he grabbed her elbow and ushered her to his office, closing the door behind them. “I will be nice to you today. It is Tabitha, no?”

  She nodded shyly.

  “You know what blow job is?”

  She nodded again, slowly, a fearful look in her eyes.

  That was her mistake. Eli preyed upon the fearful. Lowering his skintight pants, a nasty smile pulled apart his thin lips, exposing the extra-long top incisors drilled in by a now-deceased dentist. Eli was getting more excited, but he would only nibble on their first date. Second date? He would only draw a few drops of blood from somewhere on her body, usually warm and always wet. And he would share it with her so they both could swallow.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-five

  JACK KICKED THE PASSENGER-SIDE floorboard as his sleeping body jolted upright to jettison him from the vivid dream.

  Perry swerved, caught off guard by the sudden movement. “What the fuck, bro? Ya nearly made me fly off the freakin’ highway.”

  Janie placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Sorta. Sorry, guys, I experienced a dream that felt real.”

  Perry looked over at him. “Nightmare?”

  “No. Not really. Just vivid. As if there was someone with me watching it.”

  Janie asked, “One of your eagle dreams?”

  Perry frowned and looked over at Jack questioningly.

  “Actually, yes. I followed her up in the sky. Through the clouds at first, until she flew over the McFaddens’ place. I recognized it instantly. She circled several times. The abandoned buildings looked as if someone was there.”

  Perry sat tall behind the steering wheel, nervously tapping his fingers. “So, what’s this bird? And I don’t like the sound of the McFaddens.”

  “The flying eagle is a dream I’ve had since childhood. Gramps thinks I’m tied into it as my familiar who shows me things. If you can figure out what that means.”

  Perry brightened. “Like in Dungeons and Dragons, Harry Potter. Wizards can have a special animal friend.”

  “I guess so, but I suspect my mi
nd is playing tricks with me. I’m a little delirious with this bug I’m fighting. I tell you, if it gets much worse, I’m going to ask you to check me into a hospital.”

  Janie put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up, Jack.”

  “Told ya. I feel like shit.”

  “Here’s our exit! Jack, you still wanna be dropped off a block from the place?”

  “Yes. Stick to the plan. I don’t like it, but I can’t think of anything better.” Jack stared out the window. “Don’t let me dangle in there on my own for too long. I want you two to get as close to that garage as you can without risking those motorized cameras. When I make my move to enter the place, I’ll text you, Janie.”

  “Okie dokie!” She fumbled around in her purse to locate her lockpicks. Taking out her handgun, she stuffed it into her jacket pocket. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

  ****

  Perry pulled to the side of the road about 200 yards from Aversions. When he sped off, Jack was left on his own, standing on a rough sand-and-cement sidewalk. The clear sky made the half-moon look even brighter. Still hotter than hell, it was even more humid than the norm for this time of year.

  No one around, Jack realized he had not been on his own over the past week and felt an urge to run. Gramps and Josh came to mind, and Jack steered away from his anger and sadness. He walked slowly, still not sure what he was going to do or say when he got to the entrance. Never been a planner. Jack relied on his gut instincts. Pondering that thought, he chuckled; his usual approach never did him a whole hell of a lot of good. In fact, Jack knew deep down that he had failed miserably with most of his decision-making over the past dozen years, since leaving the University of Florida.