Bill responded, “Harold didn’t strike me as the marble type.”
“It was the previous owner.”
Bill asked, “Anyone I’ve heard about?”
Joshua walked towards the front door, “He’s dead, so it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say this place was like Epstein’s island before he made the news.”
Bill crossed his arms, “I hope you cleaned the place up.”
Joshua chuckled, “Cleaned and sterilized. Check the place out, and when you feel up to it, come on over, and we’ll talk for a little while.”
“Sounds good.”
Joshua left, and Bill walked over and looked inside the refrigerator. To his surprise, it appeared to be freshly stocked with Juice, Milk, meats, cheese, and every other staple he could think of. He checked the cabinets, and in addition to glasses, plates, and utensils, he found a fully stocked spice rack. Bill stretched and made his way into the bedroom.
The king-size bed looked comfortable, and the cold breeze coming from the air conditioner made him feel sleepy. He peeked inside the bathroom. Marble covered the jacuzzi garden tub, standalone shower, and even the sink pedestal. Bill rolled his eyes and then walked over and laid down on the bed.
He yawned and reached for his phone to call Carol. Bill stopped himself, rolled over on his back, and slapped the bed.
He looked up at the ceiling and said, “Of course, she crushed my phone. I guess I’m a bird in a gilded cage.”
Bill closed his eyes for a moment. His breathing soon slowed. After a few minutes, his eyes began to twitch underneath his eyelids, and his breathing became shallow.
Chapter 13
Dust hung in the air and floated across the sunbeams peeking through the large exhaust hole of the longhouse roof. The smell of old leather, hay, and wet wood permeated the air. Bill stood up and paced by the smoldering firepit. Acrid smoke made his nose twitch.
The large hall’s wooden benches could easily seat twenty. Yet, it felt abandoned as Bill paced up and down alone. He tried the two doors, and both were locked. Bill started to beat against them, but he’d been here before and knew it was useless.
He heard a noise to turned to face it. Joshua stood there in his wolfskin, but he was unarmed. Bill rushed over to him and stood just inches from his face.
“Is this you? Have you locked me away again? You can’t do this.”
Joshua shook his head once, “This is a memory.”
Bill answered, “I remember falling asleep. Are you in the room with me?”
Joshua said, “No.”
“Then why can’t I get out?”
Joshua walked over and sat down and patted the wooden bench, “Come, sit.”
Bill raised his arms and opened his mouth to protest, but then dropped his arms and joined Joshua.
Bill asked, “What’s going on?”
Joshua turned to him. The compassion in his eyes almost made Bill weep. “You still feel guilty about breaking that boy’s arm when you were a child.”
Bill stood up, turned, and looked down at Joshua, “What? Are you serious? I’ve killed five men in like a week. I missed my fiancée’s funeral because I was too ashamed to face her parents, and you think I care about breaking a kid’s arm when I was a little?”
Joshua looked up at him, “This is a memory, a dream.”
Bill flapped his arms and briskly walked in circles. “Great, it’s a dream. I’m talking to myself while I’m sleeping.”
“Bill.”
Bill turned, but Joshua was no longer in the longhouse. He heard his voice again, “Bill.”
Bill spun around again and again. He could hear Joshua’s voice but could no longer see him.
“Bill, wake up.”
Bill felt his body rocking and opened his eyes. Joshua stood over him. Grayer, smaller, in a flowered shirt with khaki shorts and a healthy tan.
Bill blinked twice, “Sorry, I must have been dreaming.”
Joshua responded, “Why don’t you come over to my place and let’s talk.”
Bill sat up on the edge of his bed. “Do you mean talk, or are you going to probe my mind again?”
“Just talk.”
“Right. From one nightmare to the next.”
“Nightmare?” asked Joshua.
“Forget it,” responded Bill. “I’ll be over in a couple of minutes after I freshen up.”
Bill rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair as he stumbled towards the marbled bathroom. He grimaced at the cold marble against his feet. After he splashed cold water on his face he made his way out the front door and over to Joshua’s.
Bill rocked in the large white wooden rocker. The porch and chair moaned in harmony beneath the seat as salt breezes awakened his senses. Birds he had not heard before called out in the overgrowth out of sight on the island. He could feel the ocean, although it was unseen and quiet. The sun’s warmth gently blanketed the island.
Joshua asked, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I can see why Harold likes living here.”
“Harold loves the ocean, but he would sell this place if he could. The island is not his style.”
Bill’s eyebrows went up. “He doesn’t like it? How can you not enjoy such a beautiful piece of real estate?”
Joshua looked down and said, “The cost was higher than it was worth.” He looked back up at Bill, “But that’s Harold’s story. Tell me, how are you doing?”
The front door opened, and Maria appeared, “I’m afraid my husband is a terrible host. Do you boys want anything to drink?”
Joshua took Maria’s hand and kissed it. “I’d like one of my beers.”
“I’d take some sweet tea if you have it.”
Maria rolled her eyes, “What is it with putting sugar into iced tea. It’s the only kind Joshua drinks too. Fortunately, I just made some.”
Joshua chimed in, “Are you sure you don’t want a beer?”
“Maybe with dinner.”
Maria took her hand from Joshua and said, “I’ll be back.”
Joshua continued, “You’ve been through a lot recently. The loss of your family, killing those men. Darla told me about your job.”
Bill asked, “How did she know?”
Joshua shrug, “They’re CIA. I’ve learned not to ask because nobody tells you those sorts of things unless they get backed into a corner.”
“Alright. Darla was upset over the man I killed today.”
Joshua asked, “How does that make you feel?”
Bill scowled, “Really? You’re using pop psychology? From everything I’ve been hearing, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Maria came out, placed the drinks on the table, kissed Joshua’s forehead, and went back inside. Joshua took a long sip from his bottle, and Bill finished half his glass of tea.
Joshua finally answered, “It’s not pop psychology. I want to know how you are feeling, or thinking if you like. You couldn’t have known what that man would do to Darla. If I had your ability, I would have done the same thing. If I’m honest, I felt helpless during the shootout.”
Bill’s eyes widened, “Really?”
Joshua answered, “Absolutely. Darla is a dear friend. What you did today was brave and good. You just met her, and you were willing to put yourself in danger to rescue her. We need more, not less of that in the world.”
Bill finished his tea and then confessed, “But there’s more to it. When I get into a rage, I enjoy killing whoever is in my path. It’s like it can’t wait to give them what they deserve.”
“Afterwards, do you still feel good about it?”
Bill looked down and shook his head, “No. I feel guilty.”
“Good.”
Bill looked up, “Good?”
“I don’t mean that’s it’s good you feel guilty. You shouldn’t, but your guilt is a sign of regret. It means you’re human, Bill. Why do you think so many military people have mental problems? We aren’t designed to do violence. It’s a learned behavior. Your fir
st fight at the orphanage was with a boy who had been bullied when he was younger. Violence breeds violence, and its fruit is regret, guilt, and bitterness.”
Bill asked, “Then what can I do? I can’t hide what I am. We already tried that.”
Joshua took Bill’s hand, “Do you remember what you learned in church?”
“Do you mean about forgiveness in Jesus and all that religious stuff?”
Joshua let go of his hand and looked at him straight in the eye. “It isn’t religious stuff. If you can accept there is a higher power, and he has given you a path to forgiveness, you can start forgiving yourself.”
Bill’s eyebrows narrowed, “But what if there isn’t a higher power?”
“Then why do you feel guilty? If there isn’t something more to the universe than your short time on earth, you can make your own rules based on your circumstances. However, that guilt you feel doesn’t come from you, and you know it. Think about that.”
Joshua turned away and took a sip of his beer. Bill closed his eyes and listened to a warbler singing in the breeze.
Bill opened his eyes and ask Joshua, “Can we change subjects for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Bill asked, “Why are these people after Harold?”
“Like I said on the plane, they aren’t after Harold; they’re after Garcia.”
“Then why are they interested in me?”
Maria came out the front door with a pile of clothes in her arms.
She said, “Take these until Frank can get you some from the Keys.”
Bill stood and relieved her of her load, “Thank you.”
Maria continued, “Go get changed. We’ll be going to dinner soon, and you should get out of those hot clothes.”
Joshua spoke up, “We’ll talk more later.”
“Okay.”
Bill headed back to his bungalow. Once inside, he looked up at the ceiling. “Well, where are you? You make me kill again and send me into hiding? How can any sort of God do such a thing? They said in church that you’re good. Our preacher told us you made us, you made me. Well, what’s good about any of this? Why would you make a killer? I ask for answers and you give me more misery. I seek knowledge and you show me a surrogate aunt and uncle. My heart feels black from despair and all I get is more violence. If you exist, where are you?”
Chapter 14
Bill stopped at the large mahogany door. Italian, French, and other influences created a beautiful and unique first impression of the sprawling home. The stucco and red tiled roof reminded Bill of his time in the California Wine Country.
Joshua asked, “Are you alright?”
“Yea. I’m getting an impression of Harold by his taste in houses.”
Maria spoke up, “Harold didn’t build this. He has better tastes than that. This was built by an evil man.”
Bill asked, “Then why did Harold buy it?”
Maria answered, “The government gave it to him.”
“Gave it?”
Joshua interrupted, “Perhaps we should go inside. I’m sure Harold will be happy to tell you more when the time is right. Please, keep my wife’s words in mind; this is not what your brother is about.”
Joshua opened the door, and Bill hesitated.
“Come on,” insisted Joshua.
Bill followed them through the marbled entryway and into the parlor. Inside sat inviting overstuffed cream-colored couches and chairs.
Just beyond the parlor, a retractable wall stood opened. Harold and Darla stood near two pillars with drinks in their hands, talking. As soon as Harold caught sight of the group, he quickly approached them, weaving his way past Joshua and Maria and straight to Bill.
“Welcome to my home, such as it is. I apologize for the décor. I’m afraid it mostly came this way.”
Bill shook his hand, “Thank you. Joshua and I were just discussing the house.”
“It isn’t really me, but Garcia and Darla say we’re safe here, and we’re outside jurisdictional waters, so I’m my own little country.”
“Convenient.”
Harold chuckled, “It does have its tax perks. Would you like a drink?”
“What are you having?”
Harold answered, “It’s a rum runner. It’s sort of our drink of choice. Frank keeps the alcohol low and the fruit juice high.”
“Do you have any beer?”
Joshua spoke up, “Let me have Frank get you a Copper.”
Bill’s eyebrows went up. “You get Olde Mecklenburg here in the kingdom of Harold?”
Joshua smiled, “It’s the only privilege I requested.”
Bill raised his hand, “Sign me up.”
Joshua excused himself and headed over to talk with a man behind the bar next to the pool. Maria, Harold, and Bill joined Darla.
Bill asked, “Why are so many of your servants and guards named Frank?”
Darla answered, “Oh, they don’t work for us. They work for the U.S. government. They’re part of the CIA detail.”
“The CIA renames all their agents Frank?”
Darla smiled, looked at Harold, and then back at Bill. “We use different names. These are some of our best agents, so they must use an alias. We decided to call everyone Frank because it’s easier to remember. It also gives us an additional layer of security. If you ever meet anyone claiming to be from Harold’s residence and he doesn’t call himself Frank, you’ll know he’s lying.”
“Why aren’t there any female agents?”
Darla answered, “I believe I’m offended.”
Bill shook his head, “I meant besides you.”
Harold spoke up, “I don’t need another woman on the island.”
Darla responded, “Not if you know what’s good for you. Besides, we have Maria.”
Bill turned to Maria, “You’re CIA?”
Maria scowled, “No.”
Darla wrapped her arm around Maria’s shoulder and pulled her petite frame close. “Maria is worth ten CIA agents. She’s fearless, and she orders people around better than Alice.”
Bill asked, “Who’s Alice?”
Darla replied, “My boss. She’s running this project. You’ll meet her eventually.”
Joshua brought over two glasses of beer and handed one to Bill. He took a long swallow and smiled. Maria pointed to her lip, and Bill wiped the foam from his mouth.
Bill asked, “So, what now?”
Darla answered, “Garcia will return tomorrow. We’ll debrief each other and then decide our next steps. It’s obvious Chuck is making his move to exact his revenge.”
Harold pointed to the chairs, “Why don’t we get comfortable.”
Everyone sat. Harold took the chair at the front of the table and asked Bill to sit on his left side, and Joshua sat to Bill’s left. Bill looked across the table at Darla. “Why do you guys think this is about revenge? Why come after me if it was about the CIA?”
“Chuck’s a psychopath. He probably thinks grabbing you would pull us out of the woodwork. You saw what happened at the airport.”
Bill nodded and took a sip of beer. Then he said, “Yea, but they weren’t looking to kill everyone. You said yourself that the guy who took you hostage just wanted to get away. All they wanted was me. The only connection I have to anybody here is Harold and Joshua. If you ask me, they’re after Harold.”
Joshua spoke up, “Why do you think that?”
Bill shrugged, “I’m not a spy, but Harold’s involved in nukes. Maybe this Chuck fella thinks he can get hold of some nuclear weapons if he gets hold of Harold.”
Darla shook her head, “Chuck’s not that dumb.”
Harold spoke up, “Besides, he could have taken me at the beach.”
“What beach?” asked Bill.
Darla jumped in. “When our sting went awry, Chuck had us pinned down with a machine gun. He commented about he and Harold being even and that he would get his revenge. That’s why we think he’s after the CIA team.”
Bill scowled, “I don’t unders
tand. He could have killed everyone on the beach by the sounds of it.”
Harold answered, “Yes, but Darla and I had saved his life before.”
“Was anyone else on the beach?”
“Garcia,” answered Darla. “Chuck had him pinned down.”
Bill mumbled, “Something’s missing.”
Joshua patted Bill’s shoulder, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, my boy. Let Darla, Garcia, and the rest of the agents worry with Chuck. Once he’s captured, we can leave our extended vacation, and they can figure out the rest.”
The table was quiet as the group sipped their drinks.
Harold caught Bill’s attention. “I hope you like tonight’s menu. It’s Rock House Store BBQ from Stallings with potato salad, bbq beans, and banana pudding.”
Bill’s eyes brightened. “Rock House Store? Out here? How?”
Darla answered, “Please, we’re the CIA.”
The table erupted with laughter, and Bill looked around confused.
Harold continued, “Sorry, it’s an inside joke you’ll discover soon enough. When my wife was researching your expenses, she discovered multiple BBQ restaurant purchases. I suggested we fly some in at my expense once I heard you were coming to the island. I hope I guessed right.”
Bill’s eyes glistened, “It was one of our favorite takeout’s.”
“Our?” asked Harold.
“Lori and me.”
Harold nodded and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
The food came out, and everyone dug in. The table was quiet for the next fifteen minutes as everyone enjoyed their meal.
Joshua finally spoke up, “I do miss home.”
Bill nodded in approval.
Harold responded, “I think I’ve been missing out by living on the west coast.”
Joshua asked Bill, “Is anyone watching your place while you’re gone?”
Bill dropped his fork, and it clattered against the plate. He quickly wiped his mouth and said, “Oh shoot. I need to call Carol.”
“Is she watching your house?” asked Joshua.
Bill answered, “Yes, and she was questioned by the CIA today. She said I better call, or she’d call me.”
Joshua responded, “At least she hasn’t called.”
Bill and the Sting of Death Page 8