The Palm Reader

by Christopher Bowron

  ****

  Boris looked into the film room. He found it strange the lights were on at this time of night if they were not shooting scenes. He pulled his head back and went to see if Eli was in his office. After knocking, he walked in and looked around. While no one was there, Eli had been there recently because the room smelled of cigarettes. The televisions and monitors were all on. Strange. There was an odd pull at the back of his mind; before he went upstairs, he wanted to have another look in the film room. Something appeared out of place.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  “THE GUESTS ARE ARRIVING, Nathaniel!” Mason kicked the man’s shoe to wake him. “For someone who is about to suffer and die soon, the old Indian sure likes to snooze a lot.”

  Little did Mason know, Gramps had not been snoozing. The old Indian had been doing his best to relay psychic messages. While he did not know whether they were being picked up or even noticed, Nathaniel had no better way to use the time left to him. At one point, he felt he connected with Lolita. The connection was fuzzy on her end and he was not sure. There was another, but, again, the link was unclear. Most psychics did not practice spiritual connection these days. It remained more of a Native ritual, often discussed but not used or even believed in anymore. Plus, it required all the planets and stars to align. Gramps had only connected with animals throughout his life. Still, ancient lore promised connectivity through the spirit world to all creatures, living and dead.

  Gramps sighed, sad because he had failed. Instead, he created a psychic note to be delivered to his grandson upon his death. Nathaniel did not want his Jackson to feel guilt and regret over the loss of both his grandfather and cousin.

  When he opened his eyes, Mason was smiling at him.

  “You sleep too much, Nathaniel. You take the fun out of killing you. I would like to see you wide awake, shedding a few tears about what lies ahead. Most men beg for their lives, or beg for a quick death. How humanity hates to suffer. Keep this up and I’ll suspect you might be one who loves the pleasure of pain. If that is true—and I dearly hope it is—you and I will stay strong and go long, rejoicing our pleasures together!” Mason’s face quivered with glee as he tried to catch his breath. “I cannot wait to administer to your dark passions. Masochists and zealots last the longest. I bet you did not know that. We do respect both for joining into the rhythm of the ritual to obtain their own passion. If you can last, Nathaniel, you will be in for a real treat before you draw your last breath. A surprise awaits! I cannot wait to show it to you. Let’s hope your grandson, Jackson, has a bit more life left in him when he arrives.”

  “What makes you think he’s coming?” Gramps became interested.

  “An augury, Nathaniel. I have seen it! He will be present. Maybe too late to save you, but I feel we will be blessed with his presence. Better late than never. You see, we need to sacrifice both of you between the hours of midnight and one—the witching hour, of course.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “However, much I do not like what you say, I must agree, that hour holds special power over the spirits.”

  Mason gave Gramps a little wicked grin. “I appreciate your concurrence.”

  There was a sharp knock on the door to the workshop. Mason went over to it.

  Nathaniel looked around. Mason had lit all of the candles and the large room was awash with a golden glow. At the door opening, he held his breath. His heart sank as three robed men stepped inside. Mason bowed his head to them in respect. “Gentle greetings to you, fellow man-brothers!”

  “Ave Satanas,” they responded as one.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ve placed wine and hors d’oeuvres on the table by the deck.”

  Gramps saw a bar and food set up on an old chopping block where Jimmy McFadden had often cut up people.

  One of Mason’s guests appeared at least seventy years old, bearing a wizened appearance. “Mason, the Church appreciates the sacrifices you have gone through in the name of our Deity, Lord Satan. The death of Henrietta LePley was a blow to our fellowship. Though she’d only attained the level of Witch, she held more power over men than any Magus. She acted as a major benefactor and our hand in the sugar and cattle industry here in Florida, which is now suffering. The bleeding hearts and their salt water estuaries will win out over our interests if we don’t regain control of South Florida.”

  “I agree, though I’m not familiar with those politics. I do thank you for coming all this way from Poughkeepsie, Your Grace. We are blessed to have the benefit of a High Priest of the Church present. I look forward to your participation in the Mass.”

  “It will be my honor. Your perseverance and dedication to our alignment is worth the trip here, Mason. Besides, your weather is much nicer than Upstate New York.” The high priest turned his head, noticing Nathaniel tied up on the old couch.

  Mason caught the man’s thought and answered, “Our sacrifice tonight. Chief of the local Seminole tribe, and Magus.”

  The High Priest’s eyes widened and he looked impressed.

  Gramps had a strong urge to rub the horrible little man’s face into the floorboards but remained calm, hiding his anger. If he died tonight, he wanted to retain some dignity.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  “I’M GLAD I CALLED the authorities in on you. You deserved it. We may not have accomplished much with their search, but now your name and business will be on their radar.”

  Eli smiled. “You suddenly grow balls, Walker?”

  Jack tried his best to smile. “Perhaps I have. Here’s the deal. I’m willing to dismiss the pornography angle, Eli. What I really want to know is what happened to my cousin and my grandfather.”

  “Now, you bore me again. Not only do you bore me, but you really fucking bore me. I could put naked ladies on our laps while we talk about Sugar Bowl.” He pulled out the black Glock under his hip and placed it on the table. “Is that it, Walker? You drag me from my sports to talk about nothing. You come to waste my time. I was getting nice blow job.” He shook his head. “The girl, she was nervous. You’ll enjoy this, Walker. The girls here, they no want to do blow jobs. They are smart and charge the customers the most money for a lick and a promise. Those silly men—and women—pay their price to get it. But girls know . . . when it comes to the Big Boss, they must do a good blow job for no money. It must seem like a gift they are giving me. When you are boss, it is best you take away their innocence, and then?” Eli gave Jack a devilish smile. “You own them!”

  He could tell Eli was baiting him. Jack had done his best to prolong their conversation but was now at a loss besides talking about fucking football. What the hell. Jackson Walker, ex-jock and newly-appointed barrister, looked straight at Eli and smiled.

  “Like the blow jobs we got from the football groupies. You could get three of those cuties at a time if you wanted, Eli. Difference is, they fucking wanted it!”

  “Three at a time? Come on, Walker. You imply there are females who want blow jobs?”

  “Straight truth, didn’t you just tell me you enjoyed the fact they were nervous?”

  “Yes. But I always jerk them around. Give them a jolt of fear so they want to please me. Why else would females do blow jobs? What do you say? Treat them like ponies. Give them the carrot or the stick. Fear of a beating or lots of cash?”

  “What do you want to talk about? Gators, NFL, after-game orgies with underage girls?”

  “I get the feeling you are stalling me, Walker. You have a bug on you?” Eli flushed at the idea of being played. “You come with me.” He motioned Jack off to the right and pushed him to a back door with a keyless access.

  Jack’s heart pounded and he damned himself for not making an attempt to leave the club. Instead, he antagonized a man who could not believe young females would offer blow jobs unless they were coerced or paid. Now, he had no choice. He had to follow Eli. If he made a mad dash, he would be taken down in seconds. Evading tackles had never been one of his strong points. Eli pushed close to Jack, the gun in the
small of his back. They approached the door and Eli pressed the five-digit code to give them access to a large office.

  Jack did not see or hear it coming. All he heard was the close-range retort of a firearm that made him blink. Opening his eyes, he saw Eli’s brains splattering against the door and onto the office floor. Before Jack could process the audio and visual messages beating on his brain, his body was manhandled and pushed into the office along with Eli’s shaking corpse.

  ****

  Like a hawk, Lolita kept her sharp eyes on Jackson. She read both of their expressions and could almost follow their conversation, which went from grimace to smiles. Jackson did not look comfortable. She sensed the tension between them and knew, when Eli put his gun on the table, Walker was in dire trouble. Reaching behind her high wig, Lolita opened the snap, the small handgun falling into her oversized hand. She snapped the secret space closed and it was all done without anyone noticing. Turning back, she spotted Eli’s face burning bright red. When he stood up and pushed Jackson to leave the table, Lolita knew it was time to act. She moved fast to get behind them. Eli’s gun was pressed into Jack’s back. Her senses lit up, knowing it was time to kill Romanov. She never debated whether death might be necessary for such a cruel man. Lolita had already seen the answer: Eli Romanov needed to die, hard and fast.

  Moving through the crowd, she easily got behind Eli as he entered the code. She waited for the door to unlock. When it opened, Lolita raised her gun within an inch of Eli’s head and held on tight, because her small firearm had one hell of a kick. Without recourse, she pulled the trigger and dropped the Russian just as all three of them moved through the doorway. Grabbing both men, she used all of her great strength and energy to heave the two down a set of stairs opening to a brightly lit office. The door behind them was already closing electronically after their quick entry. The sound of gunfire caused a screaming riot behind them, but the chaotic sounds stopped once the door clicked shut.

  Lolita was sure she’d seen a few of Romanov’s men, who would have seen the shooting and would be at the door in seconds. She closed a second door at the bottom of the stairs and jammed a chair under the door lever, hauling Romanov’s shaking body on top of it. It wouldn’t hold for long.

  She looked at Jack, who had not quite registered what happened. “We’re both alive, Jackson.”

  “What?” Jack had not seen it coming, but he was certainly glad Lolita was there to help him. “A bit excessive. What are you doing here?”

  Lolita looked at him, the large whites of her eyes bulging from the exertion. “You’d have been deader than dead if he had another few minutes. I wouldn’t have been able to get through that door, and we’d never see you again.”

  “What did you mean by ‘we’re both alive’?”

  “My vision, remember? From before we met. We were both in danger. One of us dies.”

  “We’re still in danger.” He pointed at the dying Eli Romanov. “There’s one good thing to come from this.”

  “You need to disappear, Jackson. If you want to keep your career going, you can’t be seen here if the police come.”

  Someone began pushing on the door, which would soon dislodge the chair. They heard several voices at the bottom of the stairwell. “Janie and Perry are below. I acted as a distraction so they could sneak in the back way to the basement, which we think is below. They’re looking for Gramps.”

  “Think? I hate to tell you this, Jackson, but your gramps isn’t here.”

  Jack frowned. “Hold your gun on that door. How do you know?” Jack was confused and tried to think clearly. “If there is a way down from here, it would have to be connected to the other staircase. If there is another basement, it has to be below this one.”

  “Let’s get out of here and I’ll explain later.”

  Jack moved close to the mirrored wall beside the door as the chair bulged, ready to snap with the weight of several men behind it. Noticing handprints on the glass, he pushed the mirror and it clicked open on a hinge; behind it was a secret door, but it had a keyless entry. “Dammit. Gun.”

  Lolita shoved it into his palm. “Hold on tight!”

  He fired two shots into the other door. The pushing stopped, but the yelling escalated. He turned back and fired two shots into the lock. The device exploded into a pile of screws and twisted metal. “Come on.”

  Lolita followed him through the doorway, which led to another set of stairs going down. She pulled the mirror shut behind them.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  BORIS SURVEYED THE ROOM. Nothing looked out of place, except the light had been left on, and it was late. As he turned to leave, the secret panel leading to the dungeon slowly pushed out. He heard gunshots from up the stairs. He cursed the fact that he had lost his pistol, and hid behind a prop used to depict a palm tree on a sunny beach. He couldn’t afford to be stuck between two potential adversaries and hoped it was Eli coming from the dungeon, but it seemed unlikely.

  ****

  Once the stone cleared the edge of the wall, it swung sideways on two large hinges. Perry prodded Susan ahead of him with the muzzle of Janie’s handgun. Janie followed last, leaving the stone door open. She wanted the police to be able to easily find the dungeon and Lopez.

  Janie caught the movement out of the corner of her eye but was too late to react. A large man brandishing a small knife emerged from behind a beach scene prop. He brought his fists down hard on Perry’s forearm, instantly freeing the gun from his grasp to fall to the floor. The man followed up with an elbow to Perry’s jaw, and Perry dropped to the floor like a dead weight, his head hitting hard.

  Janie dove for the gun, getting a hand on it, but their assailant stomped his boot on it. She knew one or more of her bones were broken. The man kicked her ribs, launching her thin body a few feet to slam into the brick wall. The wind knocked from her lungs, Janie could only groan.

  Before he could turn back to grab the gun, Susan kicked it halfway across the big room. Crouching low, her feral eyes stared up at the man. He did not move and looked wary of her.

  “So, Boris, I’ve been waiting for this day.” She followed his every move, mirroring it with her own.

  Footsteps approached the doorway.

  ****

  Jack and Lolita came through another doorway at the bottom of the stairs. There was no lock on it. It led to a fairly chic office filled with dozens of television screens and monitors and at least five separate computer stations.

  “Pay dirt!” yelled Jack.

  They both ran for the only other exit. Their pursuers were hot on their tail, their footsteps clamoring down the staircase. Finding themselves in another hallway, Lolita rolled her eyes. She was already huffing and puffing. Jack felt no better, still suffering from the flu, or whatever it was that ailed him.

  Jack heard a commotion from the next room, specifically a woman’s voice. He stepped into the doorway with Lolita’s gun raised, ready for anything. A large man squared off with a rough-looking woman. They saw Janie crumpled against the far wall and Perry motionless on the ground, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

  Jack stepped into the room, waving the Ruger .380. “Okay, who’s on our side?”

  The distraction was all Susan needed. She sprang like a cat and attacked Boris, one of her thumbs landing in his right eye socket. She wrapped her legs around his chest and grabbed the back of his head, driving her thumb into his skull. He howled in pain and utter fear, trying to pry her off him. She was relentless and drove her other thumb into his left eye, ripping the eyeball out of its socket. The massive man fell to his knees, then toppled to his side, still trying to shake his assailant free.

  Janie yelled as best she could, trying to catch her breath. “She’s with us . . . I think.” Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Janie stumbled over to where Susan had kicked her gun and picked it up.

  The sound of running down the hallway grabbed their attention. Jack moved beside the door with Lolita’s gun pointed and ready. Janie made
it to within a few feet when three men, all carrying guns, charged into the room, no doubt following the loud sounds of Boris wailing in agony. Janie dropped to one knee, her gun pointing at the first man.

  Jack had to yell above Boris, “Drop your weapons!”

  He placed the barrel of his gun against the head of the last man to enter. Feeling the gun and hearing the screams of pain, that last man dropped his gun. It took the first man a moment to compute what was happening. He made the fatal mistake of raising his weapon at Janie. She and Jack fired simultaneously and the man staggered, dropping to the floor.

  Now, Janie aimed her gun at man number two. Sensing he was also in the crossfire, number two dropped his gun and went to his knees.

  Jack wasted no time, yelling above Boris, “On your bellies, hands behind your backs!” Janie picked up the loose weapons while the men followed Jack’s orders.

  The screams ended suddenly. Jack and Janie saw Susan wipe the blade Boris had been carrying. His throat was cut from ear to ear.

  “The bastard deserved it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m getting out of here.”

  “Hey, not so fast,” Jack said as he went to check on Perry.

  Janie said, “Give her all the money you have in your wallet and let her go.”

  Within a few seconds, the exotic woman named Susan smiled and was through the door, running for the back exit.

  Perry began to come around. After being knocked cold from the slam to his jaw, the bruising was coming up quickly. There could be a break.

  “Okay, what now?”

  Lolita exclaimed, “If you don’t get your white ass outta here right now, you’re gonna be up to your eyeballs in cops. Your grandfather’s life may depend on you getting to him.”

  “What about these guys?” He pointed to the men lying on their stomachs.

  Janie said, “Let’s get them into the dungeon.”

  Jack looked at her, ready to ask.