Yokche:The Nature of Murder

by P. J. Erickson

  Shanna kept her yin talking, but her yang quailed. Her yang was busy working on what was to come and that it involved blood and pain. Shanna shook with fear as her yang went through the litany of what was probably going to be done to her. Fiercely she shook it off. She thought of severely handicapped people who endured multiple surgeries, went through their entire lives with pain and suffering and maintained a sunny disposition and love of life that put lesser mortals to shame. Look what they could do without complaint. She would face whatever was to come as best she could.

  Shanna opened her eyes again. She didn’t know why that particular thought had come to mind, but it comforted her. She breathed deeply and evenly, slowing her pulse and again she took stock. She did not seem to be hurt. From what she could tell, she had no cuts or abrasions. No bruises. Nothing hurt. Therefore, the odds were she had suffered nothing more than the loss of her clothes.

  She was sweating because there was only a small window in the room and no fan. It seemed to be just a small room with a single bed and a chest of drawers. The light was on, but she could not tell if it was day or night. There was an ashtray on the chest of drawers full of cigarette butts. The top of the chest was scarred and burnt. The floor was plain cement, stained and scarred in patches. The door was across the room. There was nothing else but those awful pictures.

  Shanna spent a few moments twisting and squirming. She succeeded only in burning the skin on her wrists and ankles where the ropes held her. She rested and listened intently but could hear nothing except her own harsh breathing. Okay girl, start at square one.

  Last she remembered, Dominick had sent her out of the mediation to cover the office because Pauline was sick. She had just gotten herself a soda from the fridge when that squirley druggie that Dominick represented had shown up. Ugh. The man looked like he hadn't changed clothes in a week and he had a peculiar oddness to him that always made Shanna want to get as far away as possible in a hurry. She had tried to be polite, even accepted the soda he offered her. The soda. My god that was it. He had drugged her. That’s why she felt hungover. Now she could recall partial blocks of time. She remembered telling him she didn’t feel good, being carried to a car and she vaguely recalled a bumpy journey lying in the back seat.

  Shanna shuddered as the realization dawned on her that that piece of walking scum had kidnapped her, had undressed her. Her mind shied away from what else he might have done but she reasoned that she wasn’t hurt, didn’t feel like she had been in any way abused. Shanna grasped at that straw. Since she was naked, she could only assume that she was here to await the man’s pleasure.

  Thinking furiously, Shanna could not bring herself to believe that Mick O’Shaugnessy was bright enough or ballsy enough to have done this by himself and while he was without doubt a scum-sucking, bottom-dwelling piece of crud, he had not struck her as insane. He was flotsam, a hanger on, a groupie. Perhaps it was not he, whose pleasure she awaited.

  She must get out of here. She could not expect help. Chase was in Lauderdale, Dominick may or may not have something to do with this and anyway wouldn’t care and no one else would miss her. Shanna craned her neck and arched her back. The bed head was an old-fashioned iron railing type. Her wrists were bound not with rope, but with her own pantyhose. She could not pull herself up enough to reach them with her teeth and she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers.

  She turned her attention to her feet. There was no rail at the end of the bed and it looked like a chair had been lashed to the bed in order to tie her feet, so her legs were not spread-eagled. She could get her feet together. Grimly she set to work, trying to get a toe hooked under the binding on her other foot.

 

 

  Fifty-five

  Chase and Joe were still deliberating what to do when the door burst open and Willie exploded through it. “The trackers are back. They found it. There’s some sort of compound up in the State Park in Hobe Sound, heavily camouflaged and secured like a top-secret military base. The warriors are gathering now.”

  “Hold on.” Chase could see that Willie had already worked up his adrenaline. He had got his blood humming and was raring to go. “We need more information before any of us go tearing up there for a rumble.” Quickly he and Joe told Willie what they had discovered.

  “The way I see it,” Chase looked up at the other two from a map they had been pouring over, “we each have an agenda to fulfill, for Sophie, for your dead lost in the storms, for the desecration of the wetlands, but more than that, this man is mad. He will try to destroy the world for money and if we tried to tell anyone this we would be locked up in straight jackets, so I think we have to handle this ourselves.”

  Joe and Willie nodded their agreement.

  “But we can't just go tearing in there. From what your scouts told us Willie, this place is pretty well fortified. We must find out if Hickman has this weapon of his in there and we must destroy it. This is not reservation land. There will be consequences.”

  “Not,” said Joe thoughtfully, “if we destroy the place with the man’s own weapon. It will look like an accident of nature, and if Hickman was caught in it, who could tell any different?”

  “Yeah.” Willie broke in. “That compound is in a very remote area. We could take all the firepower we needed for a full scale battle and no one would see it or hear it, and if we set off that weapon thing afterwards, there would be no evidence left that anything went on there other than a storm.”

  “What about the rangers?” Chase asked.

  “Only one tonight and not close to that area of the park.” Willie replied. “We could set up a diversion, send him up into the northern end on some pretense that would keep him busy for the entire night.”

  Chase and Joe agreed. “Do it.” Chase said. “Joe, you and Willie get your men up there and in place late, let’s say about midnight. In the meantime I’ll go round up the bikers. We’ll meet here.” Chase pointed to a small clearing on the map about two miles from the compound. “While I’m getting the brothers, you have a couple of your scouts check out that compound and see what they can find out about who’s in there and what it’s going to take to get inside. Then we’ll take care of Mr. Myles Hickman. One thing though,” Chase warned, “Hickman is mine.”

  Joe laid his arm on Chase’s shoulder. “We understand, my friend, but now there are bigger things at stake. We will try to save him for you, but we make no promises.”

  “Good enough.” Chase saw the practicality of the situation. “How will you get your men up there? We can hardly have a convoy of painted warriors trucking up the Interstate.”

  Willie snorted in derision. “You have no faith, white man. Our people have been traveling the entire state of Florida throughout our sojourn here. Yet you never see us? It is because you stay in the bright lights and city streets you built that ruined our lands. No one will see us, or hear us, but we will be there and ready.”

  Joe smiled and Chase nodded. It was true. The Seminole was as invisible to the average Floridian as a fairy at the bottom of the garden. The three men slapped hands.

  “Until tonight.” Chase whistled up Jake and left. He had a lot to do.

 

 

  Fifty-six

  Mick had left the cabin to call Wilding and let him know he had the girl. Mick couldn’t wait to get back. Snatching her had been easy. After the drug hit her, he just picked her up and headed down in the elevator, out the back door and into his truck. He had seen no one on the way.

  Mick didn’t like leaving her, even though she was out cold. He salivated as he thought of how he had undressed her, but there was not much pleasure in an unconscious body, even one as beautiful as that. He had not planned to undress her, just couldn’t resist it. The women in Mick’s life were nowhere near as fine as this.

  That fool Wilding was nuts if he thought he was going to have her all to himself. Mick almost didn’t go to make the call, but in the end, the anticipation woul
d prolong the pleasure. Mick touched himself he hadn't had a poker like this in years.

  Mick liked his women helpless. It was even better if they begged. A little pain would get her begging for it. He had seen haughty ones like this before, they always broke first. Mick had been hard ever since he laid her on the bed at the cabin. He couldn’t wait. The degradations on the cabin wall would have nothing on what he planned for this one. Momentarily, Mick entertained the idea of filming it. The Skulls had the cabin set up for it. They did a lively business in snuff movies.

  Yeah, that way he could enjoy it over and over. He might even let Wilding see what he had missed but he must be careful. If one of the Skulls decided to visit the cabin, Mick would find himself on the outside looking in. A tasty piece like that would fetch a high price in the snuff movie market. Yes, Mick decided, he might keep her for a while. He liked taming the haughty ones. It would be fun to keep her naked, make her crawl around on all fours and suck his dick on command.

  Fuck Wilding. He belonged to Mick now. He would even have insurance if he kept the camera rolling when he finally let Wilding into the cabin. Yeah. That videotape would be priceless, Mick thought. He would move into Wilding’s office. Get himself one of those expensive suits and a fancy car and then he could get all the tail he wanted.

  Whistling, Mick headed back to the cabin.

 

  Fifty-seven

  Chase made good time to the bike club. He was buoyed with anticipation. Despite the magnitude of the situation, Chase was still focused where he had always been, setting things right so Sophie could rest at last. The world would always find another way to try to destroy itself. He was not overly worried about World War III.

  Jake picked up on his master’s mood. Something was up. He sniffed continuously, trying to catch the scent of excitement and as always when things got serious, Jake became a model of good behavior. He sat alert and quiet, awaiting the moment.

  Chase was in the clubhouse before the old truck stopped rumbling, Jake at his heels. He jumped onto the bar and rang the old ship’s bell that hung over it for just such a purpose. Heads turned and seeing Chase everyone bellied up to the bar.

  “Jingles”. The barmaid had earned this name when she first starting riding. She would always fall behind and get lost until the others, in exasperation, had threatened to tie a cowbell around her neck. “Jack, all around.” Chase turned to face his friends who were busy vying to get the first shot of Jack Daniels. “I found the guy who did Sophie.”

  Instantly there was a growl from the crowd of bikers that grew into a clamor for information. Chase got behind the bar with Jingles so he could have a central position.

  “I know you all loved Sophie and you want a piece of the action. You guys are my bro’s and I appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “Don’t even think about going without us.” Tank pushed through from the back of the crowd. “What that guy did, he did to all of us and we all want a piece of him.” There was a roar of approval from the rest of the group.

  Chase nodded in agreement. “I hoped you would feel that way. This thing has turned into a situation that you won’t believe. For any of you that want a rumble there’s going to be plenty of action tonight. Jingles, I’ll take over the bar, it’s on me tonight. You get on the phone and call the roster. I need everyone here by eleven. I want everyone to leave in small groups, we don’t want to call attention to ourselves by sounding like a mini bike week.”

  Chase got busy pouring another round of drinks talking as he poured. The men listened intently. When Chase was done he left them alone for a few minutes to chew it over. He and Jake walked outside to look at the sky. It promised to be another velvety Florida night, but in the distance he could hear the rumble of thunder.

  Tank joined him a few minutes later. “This is for Whitey too isn't it? He was a victim of this mad storm maker of yours?”

  Chase turned, reluctant to let go of his peaceful view. “I don’t know for sure, but it has all the earmarks.”

  “We’re with you, buddy. Jingles’s finished the roster. There’s not a man absent and most of them are bringing others. Funny world ain’t it?” Tank mused. “Most people out there think we’re dirty vicious thugs on drugs. You think we’ll be more respectable if we save the world?”

  “Not hardly.” Chase slapped him on the back. “And you’d hate it if that happened.”

  “Yeah. You’ve got a point. It’s hard enough to find time to ride as it is. Come on chief, let’s get this show on the road. I know you’ve got it all planned out. Lay it on us.”

  Chase turned back inside.

 

 

  Fifty-eight

  Dominick put down the phone and slapped his desk in satisfaction. Yes. Mick had Shanna under wraps and once the biker found out, that would take care of him for a while. Dominick had always wondered how Shanna would be, now he would find out and after that it didn’t matter. He had, at first, only meant to keep her from gabbing to anyone but the game was almost over and Dominick was feeling the first rushes of power.

  He had been thwarted by Sophie. God, he had been looking forward to that. He had underestimated her. She was only a little thing and she looked so fragile but she had fooled him. The bitch had fought him tooth and nail. In surprise, he let go and she got away. He couldn’t risk that, so Dominick had grabbed Myles briefcase and turned the storm on. Myles had come tearing out of the supply shed, outraged that Dominick had the temerity to touch his invention. Did the fool think he hadn't watched him turn dials enough in the past to know how to do it?

  Dominick had missed the best part thanks to Myles who would not allow him to watch the operation of his infernal machine, so he had gone back inside and carefully checked for any presence of Sophie. When he came back out again the storm was over.

  They found her in the woods about a quarter of a mile out. Dominick wanted to spit on her. He could barely contain his rage at being bested. She had cheated him by dying. He picked her up and dumped her on the golf course later that night like a sack of garbage. He would dearly love to tell her asshole brother what he had done but he was afraid of him and Dominick was no fool. That was history. He had more important things to attend to.

  Yes. Shanna would be the icing on the cake and it would be payback time for all those times he had wanted to throttle her. Her and all the others over the years who had ditched him or refused to give him the time of day. The snotty bitches. Who did they think they were?

  But first there was Myles. Pauline had delivered her message no less than five times. She had pasted it to his desk, his chair, on his answering machine. She had even called him from home. What did the moron want now?

  Dominick was in two minds about going. He had a lot to do tonight. However, better to play it safe. It might be something about the formula. He would go and listen to Myles prattle on about whatever had his balls in an uproar this time.

  Dominick checked his watch. It was getting late. He started sorting out files and had the shredder cranked up. It would be easier just to set fire to the place but ever the lawyer, attention to detail was paramount. That was what set him apart. He forgot nothing. So Dominick went back to methodically destroying anything in his office that could potentially give the game away.

  Like most bullies, Dominick had a morbid fascination with violence and he was so involved in photographs of a decapitated accident victim that he didn’t hear the door open. He gradually became aware he was no longer alone when he felt a hard stare examining him with unwavering intensity.

  Dominick looked around to find a craggy-faced biker with steely blue eyes that weren’t the least bit friendly. There was something vaguely familiar about him and then Dominick realized what it was. So this was Sophie’s big brother. Hardly a Hell’s Angel but nonetheless, Dominick began to feel uneasy under that gaze.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Chase remained standing in the doorway and coolly completed his appraisal
of the lawyer.

  Dominick slammed a file drawer shut and leaned against it. “No problem. What can I do for you?”

  “I was looking for Shanna.” Chase advanced into the room.

  Dominick pretended an assurance he didn’t feel. He looked Chase up and down insultingly. “You must be her little biker buddy.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  Dominick was disappointed not to have elicited a reaction. The man was cool. He really didn’t have time for games anyway. Who did this little twerp think he was, he didn’t look like much of anything. “Well, you’re out of luck. She’s not here and she won’t be back.”

  “Where is she?” Chase took a step closer.

  “Where you won't find her.” Dominick sneered. “Shanna was not a loyal employee. She couldn’t keep my business confidential. I found it necessary to chastise her a little.”

  “What have you done with her?” Chase spat. The man moved like a panther, so fast Dominick didn’t have time to get out of the way and he found himself spread-eagled on his desk. Chase had him by the lapels and was banging his head down on the desk. For once, Dominick’s hatred overcame his fear. He found the situation slightly ludicrous and was actually enjoying the man’s anger.

  “I have plans for her.” Dominick sneered. “Maybe she’ll end up the same as your sister.” He twisted suddenly and escaped Chase’s grip, which was fortunate, because the next blow would probably have broken the desk.

  Chase kept coming after him. “What do you know about my sister?”