Congregations of the Dead

by Moore, James A. ; Rutledge, Charles R. ;

  The alarm on his phone buzzed three times and he reached for it, shut it off. “Thanks for listening, Wade.”

  Wade nodded and threw his beer bottle toward the trashcan. Two points. It never even touched the sides. “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah. We’re going to be serving about, oh, fifteen or so warrants between the Sheriff’s Department and the Wellman PD. Corey Phillips rolled over on a few guys and they rolled over on a few more. Time to put a hurt on some child traffickers and porn merchants.” The smile he flashed was not kind. “Who says due process never works?”

  Wade held up his hands in surrender. “Not me. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  “I’d let you come along if I could.”

  “And I’d take you up on it.” Wade’s eyes looked toward the river one more time. “But I have things to handle, too.”

  “Funeral’s in two days. I’ll shoot you the details.”

  Wade nodded again and headed for his own vehicle. “Talk to you soon.”

  * * *

  Carl drove, resisting the miniscule paranoia that told him his beer was going to get him killed, or get someone else killed. That voice, damn it, was always there reminding him of his responsibilities. Sometimes he wished it would shut off, but that voice – so much like the voice of his father – was never one to quit pointing out his flaws and weaknesses.

  Except Tammy. Damned if it didn’t just ignore that noise all the damned time.

  He shook his head and pushed the voice back down. There would be time for that later. For now, a little adrenaline. He cranked the radio and found a station playing a little of the harder stuff. Classics, too. AC/DC’s Bon Scott started screaming about the highway to hell and Carl felt his lips press together. Time to move on.

  They weren’t far from where he needed to be, just exactly far enough away that he could have a few moments of peace before everything blew up again.

  Nine warrants for different locations. The day was about to get very hairy. Pete Blankenship was not on the warrants. Carl’s best wasn’t that good, not without a lot more manpower and a lot more hours in the day, but he was okay with that. Blankenship would be handled soon enough, but for now what he wanted was to hurt the man’s wallet. There were a lot of people on the task force for the sting and they were all of the same mindset. It was fine to get Blankenship, but there were priorities. Finding out there was an actual circuit for underage prostitutes was bad enough, but finding out that it was running out of Wellman and out of the county? Not to be snobbish, but one expected that sort of shit in the big cities where damned near anything could happen. Brennert County was supposed to be too small for that sort of madness.

  And if it wasn’t, well, Carl would have to see about fixing that. It was part of the job.

  He pulled into the station’s parking lot and headed for the back door. Everybody was already there and waiting for him. Bob Stack looked at him and nodded. He didn’t have to use any words. He asked with his expression: is everything okay? Can you do this?

  Carl nodded yes to both, and Bob was satisfied. No nonsense though, there were things that had to be done this time around. Body armor, appropriate weapons, helmets, etc. No chance for anything to go wrong.

  He let Bob and Allan do the assignments and signed off on them. They knew who was where better than he did and, frankly, he might let himself get distracted if he focused on the details. Today he was a grunt. Today he didn’t want to be the leader. He wanted to break some heads.

  It’s always best to know what’s on your agenda before you start.

  He got lucky. He drew the assignment with the most violence.

  * * *

  By the time it was all said and done most of the warrants were served with no real problems, but the best laid plans usually have a few issues, don’t they? Carl was given the task of heading into a virtually unknown situation, with Allan and three others from the Sheriff ’s Department. Allan was in charge and everyone knew why. The Sheriff said he was good to go and no one wanted to argue, but everyone also acknowledged that he was under a bit more pressure than most times.

  Not too far away from Crawford’s Hollow but up the side of the hill that marked the edge of the same, was a winding access road. According to the paperwork the land belonged to Dwight Jennings. According to the taxes filed on the place, Dwight Jennings was alive and well. There was a metal gate at the edge of the property. It wasn’t in the best shape, but it had a lovely sign that said ‘Private Property. Keep Out. No, really, we mean it’. Judging by the tracks leading to the gate, not a lot of people listened.

  The Brennert County Sheriff ’s Department did not listen, either. The gate was blocked. The heavy-duty assault vehicle the Sheriff ’s Department had seized two years earlier did not care in the least about the gate and battered right through it.

  There were many circumstances where the risks behind that sort of sign would have warranted a few dozen extra men, but as luck would have it, one of the four men they’d interrogated the night before was a frequent shopper at the facility. There were around five men up at the old ranch-style house. They were there mostly to make sure the fifteen or so girls who were forced to service ‘guests’ did not try to leave without permission.

  Two of the men had guns. One of them was foolish enough to consider drawing his. Carl drew first and shot the man in his forearm. He’d been aiming for the chest but Trigger Happy was trying to decide who to shoot first and moved enough to avoid being killed for his troubles. Two of the men were still stupid enough to attempt to flee the scene. It did not go well for them.

  When the girls were located at the brothel, they were mostly asleep and recovering from the previous night. If a one of them was over the age of fifteen, Carl could not spot her.

  Despite a powerful desire to unload his weapon into each and every man there, Carl still managed to call Allan off before anyone got too brutalized. DFACS was called in, and so was the GBI. The GBI was looking at each individual girl’s situation as a potential kidnapping. It only took a little while to learn that none of the girls were actually local to Brennert County.

  Amber Phillips was not among them.

  Corey Phillips was not going to learn his daughter’s fate that day, if ever. He had turned evidence in the hopes of getting his little girl back safely.

  It was not his lucky day.

  Carl’s luck was better. There were cell phones and computers confiscated before the local losers could get to them and destroy any files. There was also a task force just waiting to start a serious search of all the appropriate files.

  By noon the raids were done and forty-seven men and women had been arrested. Because of the nature of the crimes they were charged with, Mike Lazenby pushed hard to have the bail raised into the exorbitant range.

  Judge Emmet Walton was a long-standing member of the community, and he’d been a good friend of Carl’s father and grandfather alike. It was just possible he realized Carl needed a win after the day he’d had. Maybe he was taking a harder stance on crime than he usually did or was even considering his strategies for the next term’s reelection. Whatever the case, he agreed with Lazenby. The bails started at a quarter of a million dollars. None of the higher-ups in the group were going to get anywhere close to that. Not that it mattered in the immediate future, of course. The raids were scheduled on a Friday morning and the processing procedures were just possibly slower than usual at the Sheriff ’s office.

  The judge did not consider any of the cases until the next Monday and by then a few things had changed again.

  By then Carl and Wade had attended the barbeque.

  * * *

  Pete Blankenship was famous for the barbeques he threw the last Sunday of every month during the summer. He invited most of the people who worked for him along with the occasional county employee or celebrity. There was always plenty of food, plenty of
booze, and plenty of free tail. Pete was just a fun-loving guy.

  Griffin parked his truck on the lawn of Blankenship’s house among a couple of dozen other vehicles. He killed the ignition and looked over at Carl Price and said, “Ready to go in?” Carl looked around and squinted against the glare from the sun. Second day in a row the sun was behaving and showing up to let people know that sunlight was still around from time to time. But there were clouds building on the horizon, gathering columns of darkness that towered like mountains.

  “You sure this is a good idea, Wade? I mean the guy has tried to kill you twice in the last week.” Carl’s tone was almost conversational. His eyes had a distant look that Wade knew was grief. He didn’t much like it.

  “That’s what makes it a good idea. He isn’t going to expect me to come waltzing in there with the county Sheriff.”

  “You’re a crazy bastard. Have I mentioned that lately?”

  “About three times on the ride up here.”

  The men got out of the truck. Carl said, “And we’re not taking guns in.”

  “No point. Most of his crew will be armed. No chance we could shoot our way out even if it came to that.”

  Griffin started off towards the house, which was only slightly smaller than some small South American countries. There was a steady stream of people heading around the back of the place and the two men followed them. No one took notice of them at first but as they reached the party proper, a couple of folks took second looks at Carl. He wasn’t in uniform, but he had been Sheriff long enough to be recognized.

  Griffin spotted Muscles and Clancy near the pool. Muscles did a double-take when he saw Griffin and then hurried over to the other end of the pool where smoke was rising from a massive brick barbeque grill. Blankenship himself was manning the grill. He had a spatula in one hand and a bottle of dark beer in the other. Muscles said something to him and Blankenship turned and regarded the two newcomers. Blankenship was a big man with a barrel chest and a full head of prematurely white hair.

  “Well, will wonders never cease,” Blankenship said. “Sheriff Price and the Lone fucking Ranger right here at my house. What can I do for you boys? Want a beer or something? Some prime pussy?”

  “Just want to have a word with you, Pete,” Carl said. “I guess you know I’ve been closing down some of your businesses.”

  “Hear you been cleaning up the county a bit, Sheriff, but that don’t involve me in any way. I’m an honest businessman.”

  “We won’t argue about what you are,” Griffin said. “But you might want to send the rest of your entourage over to the other side of the pool. I don’t think you’re going to want any of them to hear what we have to say to you.”

  Blankenship’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Don’t know that I want to be alone with you two hombres, Griffin. You’ve got something of a reputation.”

  “Neither of us is packing,” Griffin said. “Just here to talk.” Blankenship seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he said something to Muscles and Muscles started moving the various hangers-on out of earshot. When they were alone near the barbeque, Blankenship said, “Now what is it you want to say to me? Keep it quick because these ribs are almost done.”

  Griffin said, “It won’t take long. It boils down to this. You are officially out of the child prostitution business. The pornography too. It stops now.”

  Blankenship said, “The Sheriff here has shut down some operations involved in that sort of thing I know, but what makes you and him think that will stop it?”

  “Carl’s arrests have nothing to do with it. He knows nobody will be able to tie you to it. That’s why I’ve come to tell you that it ends now. I don’t care about your gambling or your drugs or your other operations. Those will be dealt with in time. But anything to do with kids stops today.”

  “I got to say, Griffin. You got balls the size of melons. What the fuck makes you think I give a damn what you say? I got twenty men here that can shoot you dead before you leave this yard and nobody here would ever say word one about it.”

  “Oh, please. Like there aren’t a dozen people that know we’re having a talk. I’m here just to make sure shit stays all civil and peaceful.” Carl looked around the area, his voice never going above the level of a pleasant conversation. “You might be brave and all that shit, but you aren’t stupid enough to shoot the Sheriff of the county when a lot of people saw me on the way in.”

  “The answer to both your questions is a card trick,” said Griffin.

  “A what?”

  “A card trick.” Griffin slid a playing card from the front pocket of his shirt. “Can you tell me what card this is?”

  “It’s a fucking Ace of Spades.”

  “Good, now take a good look at it. Make sure it’s a normal card in every way.”

  Blankenship looked at the card. “Yeah, it’s a normal God damn card. What the fuck are you doing?”

  Griffin said, “Keep watching.” He held the card above his head for a couple of seconds, then brought it back down and again showed it to Blankenship. “See anything different about it?”

  Blankenship looked at the card again. “It’s got a hole in it now.”

  “Right. A bullet hole. And if I told you how far away the shooter is, you’d call me a liar. But keep this in mind as we chat, Pete. Right now that same scope is targeting you right between the eyes. Still think you’ll have us shot down?”

  Blankenship scowled. “What do you want?”

  Carl smiled broad and bright.

  Griffin did not smile. “I already told you. No more kids. Period. Anything that Carl hasn’t already shut down, you’ll close down yourself. If you don’t, that sniper will kill you. He’s going to be keeping an eye on you from now on. Now here’s the deal, Pete. I know how you think. You’re thinking you can agree with me to buy time and then you’ll find out who my shooter is and take him out. Trust me. You won’t. I’m not ever going to contact him again and I can guarantee a search of my background won’t lead you anywhere. You don’t do what I told you and you’re dead. I couldn’t call this guy off even if I wanted to.”

  “So this hangs over me for the rest of my life?”

  “That’s right. And one more thing. Two of your goons were watching my girlfriend. You come near her again, or near anyone I care about again, and you’re dead.”

  Blankenship looked at Carl. “You just going to stand there and let him threaten me? You’re the Sheriff for fuck’s sake.”

  Carl shook his head then shrugged. “Wade here doesn’t make threats, Pete. He’s just telling you what’s going to happen. Not a damn thing I can do about it.”

  Blankenship glared at the two men and for a moment Griffin knew the man was considering just having them shot and taking his chances. Blankenship’s eyes almost seemed to bulge out of their sockets. Finally he wiped a hand across his forehead and said, “All right. I’m out of that part of the business. I’ll see that it’s taken care of. What about the rest of it?”

  Griffin said, “I’ll leave the rest of it to real lawmen like Carl here.”

  “And you can bet I’ll do whatever I can to shut you down by the book, Pete,” Carl said. “But like Griffin said, that can wait for another day. Right now, right here, we’re dealing with one thing and one thing only. Make it work.”

  “You want anything else? Want me to suck your dicks or something?”

  Carl said, “Appreciate the offer, but you’re not really my type. I will need one thing though. Somebody has to take the rap for this. I’m thinking your boy Tadpole.”

  “Take him.”

  “I already have him. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

  “We are. Is that all?”

  “That’s all.”

  “Then get off of my property,” Blankenship said. “Right now.”

  “Think your ribs are getting a
little singed,” Griffin said, then he turned and started back around the house.

  Carl fell in beside him. “For a minute there I thought we were dead.”

  “For a minute there we almost were. That’s why I didn’t just tell him to retire. Had to let him save face somehow. There’s always going to be gambling, drugs and whatever else. Might as well let Blankenship run it until you figure out a way to bring him down. But no more kids.”

  “You think he’ll stick to his end of the deal?”

  “Yeah. He knows I’m not bluffing.”

  “I’m assuming this sniper is a fellow mercenary.”

  “Carl, this guy makes me look like Elmer Fudd.”

  “No shit?”

  “None. He’d kill Blankenship and everyone at that barbeque right now and never blink.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I’ve had him guarding Charon since this whole thing started.”

  “And I thought you were a scary bastard.”

  “I am, but I like to think I’m still human. My friend? Not so much.”

  When they reached the truck Griffin retrieved his Beretta and put it back in its holster. As he started the engine he whispered, “Now I’ve saved you.”

  “Say what?” said Carl.

  “Nothing, man. Just talking to myself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Carl looked out at the trees beyond the gate to the cemetery. The preacher had said his mojo and Carl had stood still through it. The sky above them was dark as midnight and the still, damp air was moving enough now that his short hair was ruffled by it.

  Cold. There was an edge of cold in the air. Or maybe that was just his imagination.