“I don’t know, really. I was talking out of my ass. I’m a damn teacher, and I hear all kinds of shit. There is always some campus conspiracy going on.” The Eagle sat down next to Brad and asked, “And what conspiracy theory or story did you hear about that included your lover over there?” “Oh, Jesus, Mark’s dead. Oh my God!” The Eagle slapped Brad on the side of the face and said, “Yes, the kid is dead; you can’t bring him back. He is dead because of your actions, and I have plans for you, so if you want to try to mitigate the agony I will inflict on you, tell me what you have heard, fact or fiction. I will sort it out.”
Brad started to cry, and the Eagle struck him hard across the brand and even the pain medication could not control the agony of the third degree burn. He let out a yelp and said, “There’s a story that some of the nerdy kids are planning an attack on the school. I reported it to the principal and law enforcement as I am required, but the story has been circulating throughout the school for over a year. It was investigated, and there was no credibility to it.” “Then why bring it up with the kid?” “I was trying to scare him…he liked bondage and scare tactics, but the kid was as gentle as a kitten. He couldn’t hurt a fly.” “You loved him, but you allowed him to be beaten and raped by four students?” Brad smacked his head back on the gurney with tears running down his face. He said, “It was a situation that just got out of control. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.”
“Then why didn’t you stop it?” “They would know if I stopped it.” “That you’re gay?” Brad nodded, weeping. The Eagle looked on and said, “This kid is not the first for you, is it Mr. Dell? You have raped several young boys.” “I never raped anyone; it was consensual sex with boys who were grappling with their sexuality. I just helped them come out.” The Eagle let out a muted laugh and said, “Yet you remained in the closet?” “I never meant for any of this to happen. I loved Mark. I truly did. I was going to tell my wife tonight that I was leaving her. I was going to come out.”
The Eagle pulled over a steel table of instruments covered with a white cloth. Brad looked at the table and then the Eagle and said, “The story is that Mark and some friends…” “Names, please,” said the Eagle as he worked with some apparatus next to the gurney. “Um…Jerry Pinskey, Tim Elliott, um…Alan Marks and Mark. They supposedly are working through TOR in the deep web to set up an attack on the school and their classmates who have injured them.” “Injured them? You mean beating them up? Bullying them?” The Eagle had pulled a long cord across Brad’s body. He pressed down on a foot pedal on the floor, and Brad heard the whir of a dentist’s drill.
He started to speak more quickly and with a great deal of fear in his voice. “Um…they were supposedly going to attack the school. Some of the kids that were bullying them didn’t just beat them up…I mean, that was part of it…but a few of the guys were in scouts with the boys, and there was an incident a couple of years ago at a sleep over.” The Eagle pulled the white cloth off the small steel tray to reveal all kinds of steel instruments, sharp pointed steel probes, pliers, and curved steel blades, all in Brad’s line of sight. Brad heaved a deep breath as he saw them. The Eagle never looked up, only asked, “What happened, who were the boys that were hurt, and who hurt them?”
“Um….please, please. I will tell you everything I know. Please don’t use those things on me. I’m terrified of the dentist.” “What happened, Mr. Dell?” “The boys I mentioned were raped in their tent by some bullies…umm…Brian Donaldson, who’s now dead, Rocky Marick, who has also been murdered, along with two other boys, Johnny Belk and Billy Stone.” “Were you and Mr. Hameln there?” “I was not there, but Trent Hameln was. He’s a scout leader. He told me about it a few months after the fact. The boys all stayed silent about what was done to them.”
The Eagle pointed the drill at Brad and said, “Yeah…until now. So the killings are revenge for what these guys did to them?” “I don’t know. I guess so. I don’t know anything else, other than these boys that Mark was friends with worked in the deep web through some site called TOR, and I think that it’s all fiction.” The Eagle laid the drill and its hose across Brad’s abdomen and said, “TOR is not fiction…the deep web is not fiction. TOR is an Internet web browser that was developed originally by the U.S. Navy for encrypted communication over the Internet. The government abandoned the project, but the TOR web browser continued on into the world of the Internet that is known as ‘the onion.’ TOR allows users to work in anonymity without the regular tracers that come with working on the standard Internet. The NSA, FBI, CIA, and local law enforcement use the site to both try to detect criminal activity and to pass secure data between agencies. TOR is very real and, if used inappropriately by these ‘nerds’ as you call them, could give them a forum to gain power, support, and even the equipment and weapons they need to carry out their attacks.
“In your case, ignorance is bliss, but the reality of what could be hatched by these students if they are computer literate and can write code could be terrifying. Thank you for the information. I can work with this and hopefully foil their plot.” The Eagle pulled a steel dental cage off the table and pushed Brad’s head back as he placed it over his jaw and teeth. Brad fought him at first, but the Eagle subdued him with two quick blows to the head, and by the time Brad got his bearings, his mouth was wired open. He was unable to speak, and the Eagle was pressing his elbow into the brand on his chest as he began to drill out tooth after tooth. His screams of agony fell on deaf ears. Smoke rose in the air, and the smell of burning tooth enamel and decay filled the operating room.
When the Eagle finished drilling and spraying ice water into Brad’s mouth, blood, spit, and tooth fragments were striking Brad in the face. Some got into his left eye, and he screamed louder and louder as he tried to blink them out. But with each blink, he tore through the sclera of his eye, and soon he felt a warm liquid flowing down his face as the vision in the eye vanished.
The Eagle stepped back and looked at Brad’s torn eyeball and said, “This is a first for me. You blinked your own dental work into your eye, tearing the sclera and opening up a hole and releasing the vitreous humor. You’re blind now.” The Eagle then pulled a long steel twisted instrument from the table and made sure Brad could see it with his remaining eye. “This looks kind of like a cork screw, and you have no need for that eye anymore.” The Eagle drove the instrument into the eyeball until he met resistance near the back of the eye socket. He twisted as Brad screamed, and with a hard straight jerk pulled his eyeball out of its socket and laid it on his chest. The optic nerve was the only thing connecting the eyeball to his skull, and the Eagle quickly cut it with a pair of scissors, which sent Brad’s body into convulsions as the Eagle lifted the removed eye up so he could see it. “I know that has to hurt like hell. The eyeball itself has no nerves, but the optic nerve does. Well, back to work. You have more to endure, but don’t you worry. You are going to make a very, very strong impression on all of those young kids.”
It was just after eleven p.m. when Brad Dell drew his last labored and agonizing breath. The Eagle cleaned up the corpse and prepared it for transport. When he was finished, he walked out of the operating room, removed his white coveralls, and walked out into the foyer of his lair. He pulled out his cell phone and waited as his placed call rang.
“WHAT?” “I have some good information on the plot.” Jim was sitting in his car outside Vickie’s home. “Yeah…well…it came a little too late for Vickie Delgato.” John looked out through the blackness of the windows of his lair overlooking the sea and asked as the surf crashed on the rocks below, “What happened?” “Your protégé fucked up. He let the girl go in alone. The Pinskey kid came in the back way through the alley behind her home and choked her out.” “Is she dead?” “Yeah. I got the call ten minutes ago from Sara. The girl went into cardiac arrest. Sara said that she and Karen tried but couldn’t save her.” “And Chris?” “He’s fucked up, man. What do you think? He blames himsel
f.” “He should…it’s his fault that she’s dead!” There was a moment of silence, and Jim asked, “Is the Eagle finished?” “He has to drop off a victim to send a message.” “Where?” “Brad Dell’s home.” “I’m going to go out on a short goddamn limb here and say that Mr. Dell is not currently alive.”
“Meet me at the Dell home at midnight.” Jim sighed. “The Eagle will have a bit of a problem setting up a scene at his home. The fucker’s got a wife, man, and I would take a leap that she’s home and in bed.” “Then you need to find a way to get her out of there.” “Oh no…I’m not going to be an accessory to yet another Eagle killing. You want her out, you get her out.” “Fine…I’ll just shoot her.” The line went dead, and Jim yelled, “No, no, no, you mother fucker!”
Chapter Ten
“Hell is about to come to dinner.”
It was half past eleven, and all was quiet on Osborn Street in Northridge. Jerry had given Tim and Alan the address of the home, and they arrived with Debbie at the dark house tucked back in its own little corner of a dead end street. Jerry pulled up and pulled into the driveway, and in a matter of seconds the garage door was opened, and Tim, Alan, and Debbie were pulling out ammunition and weapons and stowing them in the garage. Jerry told them to park the cars inside and to meet him at the rear of the house when they were done.
The back door was open with a single light on when the three walked in. Jerry told them to close the door. He was sitting at a table in the kitchen. Tim looked around at the house and asked, “What the fuck is this place? Why are you so goddamn sure we won’t be found here?” Jerry was looking out the back window as he answered, “This was my aunt’s home and was left to me after her passing. This house has a great deal of history behind it, a bloody and insane history.” Alan said, “I didn’t know you had an aunt who died.” Jerry smiled weakly and said, “No one knows about Aunt Charlotte. She was actually my mother’s first cousin, but she and I formed a bond through her life. She was killed several months ago in the Topanga mountains.”
Debbie got a shocked look on her face and asked, “Are you talking about Charlotte Watson? The psycho baby killer and part of the Richards family?” Jerry nodded. Debbie said, “And this is her childhood home?” He nodded again, and Tim and Alan both asked, “What’s the big deal? Jerry inherited a home.” Debbie looked at Jerry and then at the other two and said, “No…this is no ordinary home, and his aunt was no ordinary woman. She was a brutal murderer who butchered her whole family in this house some four or five decades ago because Bruno Richards told her to do it, from what I understand.”
Tim had a confused look on his face and asked, “Who the hell is Bruno Richards?” “A beautiful mind that was snuffed out before his dreams and prophecies could be realized,” Jerry said. Debbie explained the history behind the Richards Family and what she knew of Charlotte Watson. She walked the guys through the house and showed them the blood spattered walls, mattresses, and blood-stained floors, while telling them the story as she knew it from reading several books. When they had finished, Debbie walked the guys back into the kitchen where Jerry was still staring off into space. Tim looked at him and asked, “Dude…Jerry…” Tim snapped his fingers a couple of times, and Jerry looked over at him.
“Are you okay? Did you do some drugs or something?” “I’m fine…this is only the second time I have been in this house and the first time since Charlotte was killed.” “Jesus, man, you look lovesick,” Alan said. “I am…I had my first sexual experience in this house with her. I don’t think she planned for it to happen. I know I didn’t, but it did, and it was beautiful.” Alan and Tim looked at Debbie who was white-faced. Debbie asked, “Are you going to be okay here? You’re starting to freak me and the guys out.” He nodded and said, “Get on TOR and see what you can learn about us in the chat rooms. We have a lot to do and a short time to get it done. We need the security codes to get into the mall, so we can start setting our traps.”
Tim and Alan opened their equipment and started working in the deep web. Alan came back and said, “So far, there are no wants or warrants for us. You need to get your head together and get to your house and get your computer and whatever other equipment you have.” Jerry nodded and asked Debbie to come with him. She looked at Tim with hesitation and fear in her eyes. Tim said, “No, she won’t. I will go with you. I don’t trust you around her right now, and we don’t need you killing another person tonight.” Tim grabbed his keys and Jerry’s arm and pulled him up out of the chair, and the two walked out to the garage and Tim’s car.
Jim pulled up in front of the Dell home just before midnight. He looked around for the black Silverado, but there were three of them parked on the street. Jim mumbled to himself, “Well, fuck me. Three goddamn trucks, and I can’t run around looking at license plates to see if one of them is John’s.” He got out of the car and walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He did it several more times until a light and then the porch light came on as well. Margo Dell peeked through the thin white curtains that covered the glass windows of the front door. She had a sleepy look in her eyes and then an alarmed one, seeing the Sheriff of Los Angeles County standing on her doorstep. She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. She had a sheer robe on covering her just below the waist.
Jim looked at her and asked, “Mrs. Margo Dell?” “Yes.” “My name is Sheriff Jim O’Brian. I wondered if I might have a word with you.” She wiped the sleep from her eyes, invited Jim into the kitchen, and asked, “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” “I was looking for your husband, Mrs. Dell. Is he here?” She got a surprised look on her face and said, “No, actually, he’s not here. He was supposed to meet me at ten last night. He said he had a surprise for me.” “And he’s not here?” “No…I got home, and the house was set up in a very romantic way, but Brad was nowhere to be found.”
“Does he disappear like this a lot? You don’t seem too concerned.” Margo reached for a coffee pot and asked Jim if he would like a cup of coffee. He told her yes, and she started to prepare the coffee while answering, “Oh…Brad does pull his little vanishing acts two or three days a week. Sometimes it’s school-related. He is on a bi-weekly rotation along with the police at the high school he teaches at for alarm calls. He might have gone out on one of those, and if so, he will call me when he is cleared to leave the school.”
“Does he leave without telling you where he was going?” “He wasn’t here when I got home, and he didn’t leave a note or message for me, which is unusual, but he will turn up.” She poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Jim. He took a sip, and she leaned against the counter, her robe revealing her nude figure underneath it, and asked while taking a sip of her coffee, “So, what do you want with my husband at this hour?” Jim took a drink of the coffee and said, “I got a tip that he might have some information on the death of one of the students at his school, and I wanted to talk with him.” Margo laughed and reached for her purse on the counter and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Jim. He shook his head and pulled his own from his top left pocket and flipped his Zippo open and lit Margo’s cigarette as well as his own. There was silence between them for several minutes. Jim couldn’t take his eyes off of Margo’s supple breasts under the nightgown and her beautiful long black hair and dark eyes.
She was flirting with him, and he knew it. She leaned over the island in the middle of the kitchen where Jim was standing drinking his coffee and allowed her robe to fall open and her breasts to rest on the counter and said, “Why on earth would you want to come out in the middle of the night to interview my husband, Sheriff? I’m his lawyer. I would strongly advise him not to answer questions under these circumstances.” Jim took a deep drag off the cigarette and said, “I’m not really here for your husband, Mrs. Dell.” “Please, call me Margo. If you’re not here for Brad, then who are you here for?”
“You, Margo. I’m here for you.” She took a long drag off the cigarette in her hand and then
stubbed it out in the kitchen sink. “Well, if that’s the case, Sheriff, you can have me.” She said it in a low sultry voice and opened her robe and put her arms around Jim’s neck. He reached down and put his hands on her ass and grabbed it tight. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Margo. I wish I were here on a social call, but I have reason to believe that your life is in danger.” She nuzzled her face into Jim’s neck and said, “My husband is gay, Sheriff. He doesn’t think I know it, but I do. I haven’t had sex in two years. I see that you have a ring on your finger. Does your wife fulfill all your needs?” Jim pulled away and said, “I love my wife. I’m sorry that your husband is in the closet and even more sorry that I am not the cheating type because you’re gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you. Right now, however, I must insist that you get some clothing and come with me.”
Margo stepped back and asked, “And where are we going? Am I under arrest? Are you taking me downtown?” Jim looked at his watch. It was half past twelve. “No. I’m taking you with me into protective custody. I know that you work for the public defender’s office in Van Nuys. I know you know the law, but right now your life is in jeopardy, and it is my job to protect you. I’m going to ask you to trust me, and I will keep you safe.” Margo asked Jim to follow her, and he did…right into her bedroom where she stripped off the robe and stood nude in front of the closet. She grabbed a small bag and asked, “How long will I be away?” “I would not think more than a night or two.” “And where will I be staying?” There was a long pause as Margo put some clothing into her bag and then put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
“You will stay with me and my wife at our home.” Margo turned and smiled at Jim, the soft light from the closet flashed in her eyes, and she said, “Well, well. There is hope of getting laid. I know your wife, Barbara, well. She will be quite shocked to see me, but that could be a good thing for you.” She followed Jim out the front door and locked up the house. He led her to his vehicle, and once she was seated, he made a call from his cell phone while standing outside the car. The phone was ringing, and Jim was trying to control a raging hard-on.
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