Demon Key

by David Brookover

  Dex joined Jackson at the edge of the black hole. “This is the place! Down there,” he gestured, breathing heavily. He was still enervated from yesterday’s adventure.

  “Jilly! John!” Jackson yelled into the darkness.

  No answer.

  Jackson lost no time scrambling down the slick ladder. His feet slammed into the flooded tunnel with a splash, and coughing erupted to his right. His flashlight beam revealed John supporting a flaccid Jilly. Both leaned feebly against the side of the tunnel, standing on a thick, elevated root. The deep water merely lapped their ankles.

  The trembling professor was unconscious when Jackson scooped her into his arms and scaled the ladder. He left her with Dex and scampered back down for John. The next time he emerged, John was holding onto Jackson’s back for dear life.

  Dex had already placed Jilly inside the boat and wrapped her with a heavy wool blanket by the time Jackson and John arrived. John gratefully accepted his blanket, and stretched out beside Jilly on the deck. Suddenly, Jilly’s eyes flew open and she seized Jackson’s hand.

  “Demon! Tail. Orange . . . eyes!” she whisper-shouted. “Tonight. Please . . . be . . . very careful. The mosa . . . saur . . . killer . . .” She passed out before she could complete her sentence.

  Dex exchanged puzzled glances with Jackson.

  “John, what’s Jilly talkin’ about?” Dex asked his friend.

  But John didn’t hear him; he had slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  Dex hauled in the anchor and steered the airboat back toward Gator Creek. As soon as Dex saw signal strength bars on his cell, he relinquished control of the craft to Jackson so he could call 911. After identifying himself, he demanded that a pair of ambulances and an EMT team be on hand when they arrived at the dock.

  Not only were the ambulances and EMT at the dock, but also Sheriff James Stark. The medical staff immediately took charge of the patients.

  “What’s going on, Dex?” the Broward County sheriff demanded, scrutinizing his older counterpart suspiciously.

  “FBI business,” Jackson retorted.

  “Don’t give me that shit, son. I need to know . . . and now!”

  “What’s the hurry?” Dex asked. “You act like someone just lit your britches on fire!”

  “Yeah! Don’t you see the fucking smoke, Lowe?” he snapped back. “I know you guys are investigating that mosasaur thing, and I need to know what you dug up.”

  “Tomorrow,” Dex said wearily. “We’ll exchange intel then.”

  “Not tomorrow, goddamm it! I need to know right this very minute!” he shouted angrily.

  “What’s the hurry?” Jackson asked, as he checked his watch. It was six-thirty. He and Dex were an hour and a half late for their rendezvous. They had to get the hell out of there.

  “That damned monster was spotted out in the Gulf an hour ago by an oil rig crew. And, it’s headed back here! Back here! Shit, we’ll be inundated with those beached alligators again.”

  Jackson feigned surprise. “No kidding!”

  Stark scowled at Jackson. “Do I look like a fucking comedian, Swamp Jack?”

  Jackson gritted his teeth. He hated that name. “No, of course not.” A clown maybe! “We’ll be glad to give you a hand, Sheriff. Just let us see our friends off, and we’ll be right back.”

  James Stark puffed his chest haughtily. “Fine. Fine. Never let it be said that James Stark is not a humanitarian,” he crowed. “But hurry up!”

  Dex and Jackson drifted between the emergency vehicles and over to Dex’s car. While Stark was busily addressing the hastily assembled reporters, Dex inched his car from the gravel parking lot and sped away.

  “Teddi’s gonna be climbin’ the walls wonderin’ where the hell we are,” Dex said, glad that there was a brief respite from the rain.

  “Yeah, but it’s odd that she hasn’t called either one of our cells to find out about Jilly and John. Maybe her meeting with Charlie went into overtime.”

  Dex’s eyes narrowed. “Nah. She’d check anyway. You know Teddi.”

  “Now that you mention it, that is out of character. She’s usually overly concerned. Maybe she napped and overslept. After all, she’s been through a lot lately.”

  “You mean the coma or last night?” Dex inquired playfully.

  He grinned. “A little of both.” His cell rang, and he immediately answered it.

  Dex mouthed, “Teddi?”

  Jackson shook his head. It was his State Department friend. When he hung up, he was as pale as a ghost.

  Dex pulled off the street into a grocery parking lot. “What wrong? Is it Teddi?”

  He nodded as if in a trance. “Teddi’s in deep trouble.”

  “Why? C’mon, give!” Dex insisted, his face twisted into blazing anger.

  “Turns out that Teddi’s lunch date this afternoon was with our Voodoo Man,” he growled.

  “What!” Dex exploded. “You can’t mean Charlie Simmons.”

  “Charlie Swinson is the name,” Jackson growled. “His folks were immigrants from Great Britain, indirectly from Brazil.” Which explained a lot. Obviously, Charlie had used their fishing friendship to condition Jackson’s mind for the psychic block. And that meant that good ole Charlie was a psychic, too. No wonder Jackson hadn’t been able to see who was behind the entire grisly affair.

  And now Teddi was about to pay for his psychic Achilles’ heel.

  Chapter 81

  When Dex and Jackson arrived at the motel, there were no messages from Teddi, and her room was empty. Jackson placed a call to the Fort Lauderdale FBI facilities and was informed that neither Charlie Simmons nor Teddi McCoy had checked into the building that day. Jackson slowly replaced the receiver. Their worst fears were realized.

  “Bad news?” Dex asked.

  “No news.” He quickly repeated his conversation with the FBI office.

  “Where in tarnation could they be?”

  “I’m not getting any psychic answers now, either. I’m totally blocked.”

  “Well, I have an idea.”

  Jackson looked at the sheriff. “You’re hot today. Shoot.”

  “What say we visit the grotto lake a little early.”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Of course! The ceremony! They’ll be there.”

  Teddi rode across the flooded Sawgrass Expressway to Demon Key in a tourist airboat, Swain’s Swamp Explorer. It was crowded with what appeared to be a large group of married couples celebrating their anniversaries, but Teddi figured that they were all to play a part in tonight’s temple ceremony. And, she noticed that they were all carrying sidearms. Charlie remained mum the entire trip, no doubt ensuring that he hadn’t overlooked anything important for tonight’s big show.

  Once the boat docked, the group trudged across the flooded key toward the mausoleum. Charlie kept a close eye on her, but that didn’t prevent her from imagining escape scenarios. Each presented a similar obstacle — the damn handcuffs.

  When they reached the mausoleum, she and Charlie entered alone and descended the ladder. The others remained outside, sentinels beneath umbrellas. The temple was fully illuminated with a brilliant golden glow; the grotto lake now completely submerged the single dark step.

  Teddi stopped halfway to the temple and fought back a paralyzing fear. Squirming naked people were shackled and spread-eagled against the six urns atop the altar, screaming hysterically for their release.

  “What are you doing to those poor creatures?” she demanded angrily.

  “Bleeding them, Teddi. Call it my personal blood bank.” He laughed at his own pun and shoved her forward.

  Six powerfully built, hooded men stood stationary on the altar. They wore a simple loincloth, no shoes or shirts, and sported magnificent feathered headdresses. She didn’t recognize any of the long feathers.

  “Who are those guys?” she asked as they reached the steps leading up to the altar.

  “Friends of mine from Brazil. They’re well versed in the black arts.”

&n
bsp; She watched in horror as the men peeled the dead, emaciated victims from the urns’ shackles and tossed their limp bodies into the black lake waters. Then they disappeared into an arched opening at the far end of the altar. Teddi didn’t remember it being there before. Soon, the hooded men returned, dragging more kicking and screaming sacrifices. Each new victim was thrown against the urn, where they were pressed firmly against the blood-absorbing surface.

  “The urns should be overflowing shortly. When that happens, our other guests will be invited down to join us, and the festivities will begin,” Charlie explained smugly.

  “Why are you doing this?” she questioned him.

  “I guess it won’t do any harm to explain. I’m not needed yet, anyway,” he began. “You see, my mother’s maiden name was Swinson. One of the Brazil Swinsons, related to Si Swinson, who originally settled on Demon Key. I’m sure you know the story.”

  “I do. Go on.”

  “My uncle’s family settled on this godforsaken swamp lump for a reason. During one of his smuggling trips to Florida, he overheard the Indians mention a powerful magic below Demon Key. Really bad magic. My ancestors loved the black arts, so Si bought the place. Sort of. I mean, he killed Edward Loggins and his surviving son and spread the rumor that they had abandoned the place, and then he waited for Florida to put the abandoned property on the auction block. And, the rest is history, except Si’s kids reformed, as you might say, and lost interest in the black arts. Instead, they protected this place from me and their other relatives,” he sneered. “Well, I showed Bo.”

  “How?”

  “The same way I controlled you. I transferred a spirit into his body.”

  “So that’s why he kidnapped me and was so reckless at the high school. You wanted him dead.”

  “And you under my control. Before he died, the spirit passed into your body, but not before I had the bastard carry out one final command.”

  “Passing that weird flute to Jackson.”

  “Right. Since the case was over and Jackson’s contract services were no longer required, I wanted Jackson to return home with the flute.”

  “So the mosasaur would follow him home to Louisiana. But why?”

  “To keep that damn mosasaur away from here — at least until the ceremony was successfully completed and my destiny fulfilled.”

  “And what destiny might that be, if you don’t mind my asking?” Teddi persisted.

  “Why, the most sought-after destiny in the world, my dear. World domination.”

  “That’s not very original, Charlie, or realistic. The world’s too big now for that.”

  “It’s too bad you won’t be here to see yourself proved wrong, because immediately after the ceremony, you’ll be my first sacrifice.”

  Chapter 82

  Jackson and Dex scrutinized the sizeable cluster congregated around the Demon Key mausoleum through a pair of powerful binoculars kindly abandoned by Ryan Wilkerson and his hit team in the bayou. From their vantage point beside the pole barn, Jackson remarked that the innocuous-looking group’s umbrellas resembled a multi-colored mushroom patch.

  “Yeah, they do.” Dex paused. “In hindsight, I think Simmons put Wilkerson in charge of this crime scene to make sure that the FBI didn’t uncover anything,” Dex speculated.

  “Wouldn’t bet against it,” Jackson replied, lowering the binoculars. “Our problem, as I see it, is how to get past that crowd to the grotto.”

  “Too bad your Blackhawk friend’s still not hangin’ around.”

  “Yeah,” Jackson muttered thoughtfully. “You know, I bet those people are part of Charlie’s show. I say we wait until they’re called in before we make our move.”

  “Makes sense, but we might be cuttin’ Teddi’s rescue a tad close.”

  He looked regretfully at Dex. “Under the circumstances, it can’t be helped.”

  Charlie gestured curtly to the six hooded men, and two of them broke ranks without delay and hustled down the steps.

  “One more question?” Teddi pleaded.

  He scowled at her. “This is getting tiresome, but go ahead.”

  “Why’d you put me in charge of the investigation down here? Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to keep me out of this case?”

  “Not really. I wanted Swinson caught, and I had enough confidence in Ryan that he could catch Swinson with a little help from me. But, I wanted to give the investigation the appearance of being completely legitimate. I didn’t want Ryan to be the focal point of the search in case someone got suspicious, so I hired Jackson and put you in charge.

  “Since Ryan was officially out of your loop, so to speak, he could keep an eye on both you and the key for me. When you were under fire from Swinson, I directed Ryan to help you, Jackson, and Dex, which allayed any of your doubts that he was still working on your side,” Charlie explained. “Plus, Ryan made certain that nothing of consequence was discovered by our FBI crime scene team on the key. He even confiscated Swinson’s curare-tipped darts from his house on the key before you or Jackson could find them.” He repressed a grin. “Of course, your precious Jackson was supposed to find the dead woman sitting on the bomb in the attic, but unfortunately he managed to escape that trap.” He paused again, thinking. “Ryan intercepted your lab results from Carl Landers on those dock tissues concerning Carlos Fuentes’ death. I couldn’t have that ‘DNA Unknown’ report dropping into your lap. And that, my dear, is pretty much it.”

  “Was it your brainstorm to have Bo kidnap me and put me in the coma?”

  He grinned. “Oh yes, your kidnapping was in my plans from the beginning. The coma was merely a ploy to keep you on ice, so to speak, until I needed you.”

  “Bastard!”

  He turned and addressed the men waiting obediently beside him. “One of you bring my followers down here, and the other prepare this woman for the ceremony. Get her out of my sight!”

  Teddi thrashed in the hooded man’s grip as he dragged her up the steps toward the hideous demon statue. The handcuffs jingled and chaffed her wrists. A taut knot in the pit of her stomach presaged that she was done for . . . unless Dex and Jackson materialized before she bit the bullet. Or, whatever that lunatic Charlie had in store for her. She fought back tears. After all, she was an FBI agent. A professional.

  And a dead woman.

  Charlie Swinson-Simmons stroked the shaman ceremonial robe fabric. The bejeweled garb had been passed down from generations of his shaman family, and pride surged through his frame. A host of demons had been brought into this world by the wearer of the robe, and with its intimidating magical powers, his family also controlled much of the Brazilian drug smuggling trade. Any foolish enough to betray his family were horribly dispatched. Free-lance smugglers, who refused to recognize his family’s reign, were hunted, mutilated, and fed to the jaguars. There was nothing left to bury.

  Now he was on the verge of unleashing the ultimate demon. Negalwin. The Conqueror. Unstoppable. Invulnerable. And soon, under Charlie’s absolute control.

  He draped the magical robe over his shoulders and noted that the blood urns were overflowing onto the altar floor. Excellent! A dozen Brazilian shamans were on hand to assist him in conjuring the substantial evil energy required to transform the Negalwin from its inanimate state to life.

  He listened to Teddi’s protests in the temple’s side room and smiled. What a surprise it would be when she discovered that she was going to participate in the final ceremonial act. In a way, she was the star of the show.

  Her sacrifice would immortalize the demon.

  Charlie scanned the temple. It had never aged, despite the passing centuries since its construction. No one alive knew what civilization had built it to call forth the Negalwin, but several discovered Mayan and Incan scrolls hinted that the Olmec were responsible. The writings ambiguously suggested that the ceremony had gone horribly wrong, and that the entire Central American Olmec civilization had been destroyed. People. Cities. Historical documents. Only the mysterious
Olmec Head relics remained.

  Charlie shook his head. Fools! Amateurs playing with powers they couldn’t possibly have understood. He alone possessed the knowledge and command of the black arts to prevent another cataclysm of that proportion.

  At long last, his moment was near. His hopes and dreams were about to become a reality. He would rule the earth!

  His followers’ chants began and gradually rose to a strident pitch. Charlie stepped out from the opulent shaman room hidden behind the Negalwin’s gargantuan legs onto the altar. The droning clamor swelled. He glanced down the stairs and grinned.

  Teddi, adorned in a sheer shimmering gown, was trussed to a thick pole at the bottom of the staircase inches from the lake. All the pieces were now in place.

  Chapter 83

  Dex and Jackson peered out from the tunnel into the grotto and gaped at the fanatical spectacle. Throngs of naked men and women with shaven heads chanted and bowed on either side of the golden stairs, worshipping the grotesque granite sculpture rising menacingly to the grotto’s domed ceiling. Six black-hooded men flanked the altar, three on each side. Six robed men stood behind each threesome like evil monks, with their heads bowed and their mouths moving in identical motions.

  Dex’s lips shrank to a taut line, and he elbowed Jackson. “Look.” He gestured toward the bottom step. Teddi was bound hand and foot to a large pole!

  Jackson’s blood ran cold, and he was about to leap forward when Dex restrained him.

  “We’ve got to save her!” Jackson exclaimed, his childhood anxiety stifling his reason.

  “I know, but not by chargin’ in there with guns blazin’!” he hissed into Jackson’s ear. “And besides, I don’t have enough left in the tank for an all-out war.”