by Stephen Frey
Afterward he’d splurged for an expensive dinner at an upscale restaurant near the rink. They’d all laughed until they’d cried as the girls regaled him with story after story about younger days when they’d shared a bedroom and played tricks on each other at night while the other slept. Bygone days when things were much simpler, Gadanz concluded ruefully as he’d sipped on a delicious glass of pinot noir and watched them enjoy themselves so fully, struck by how little he really knew about them and vowing to make it up to them as the wine took effect. It was the first alcohol he’d consumed in three years—since Sasha’s brother had married, he’d realized as he wiped the tears of joy and laughter from his eyes, which he wasn’t at all embarrassed by.
He came to another, much more important conclusion as he sat there listening to them tell their tales, innocently enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t for as long as he could remember. It was time to take control of his life—and theirs—and move everything in a drastically different direction. His girls deserved that, and so did he. He’d been an absent father too long, far too focused on business and not family. There was more to life than numbers on a computer screen and checking per-store sales figures every fifteen minutes. Maybe they wouldn’t join the family business after all, he realized. Maybe they should be free to choose their life pursuits—even their husbands—for themselves. Perhaps freedom to go their own way was truly the greatest gift he could give them.
When the girls were asleep, he’d kissed Sasha good-bye on the lips—another first in forever, which had drawn a wide-eyed look of surprise from her and then a nostalgic smile. Then he drove the old Accord to Dulles Airport, parked in the cheap lot far from the terminal, and boarded the last Delta flight out, sitting middle seat in coach. He’d almost paid the considerable extra fare for the last seat in first class, which was available, but then decided against it. Too much change in one day might not be a good thing.
After landing in Miami, he’d rented a midsize sedan and driven into the central part of the state, north of the Everglades and Lake Okeechobee. The coasts were densely populated, but for the most part central Florida was quite desolate until one neared Orlando and the thriving American metropolis a cartoon mouse had created.
Under the cover of darkness he’d moved past the gate of the sprawling compound—after having his license carefully inspected beneath the bulb of a glaring flashlight—and parked the rental car inside a huge barn in between two sleek-looking private jets, as directed. The compound was well guarded, though not obviously so, all in an effort to keep prying eyes in the sky—humans in planes and satellites in orbit farther up—from becoming suspicious.
Unwanted visitors to the property were swiftly and effectively dealt with, but they didn’t even know they were in danger until they were within a hundred yards of anything sensitive. Only then were trespassers confronted by an overwhelming force of guards and dogs after being watched by well-hidden surveillance cameras from the moment they’d stepped onto the five-thousand-acre property. And it wasn’t as if many people trespassed, anyway—intentionally or accidentally. As far as the locals and migrant workers were concerned, this was just another huge citrus plantation.
“This way,” one of the men ordered in a heavy Spanish accent as Gadanz rose from the car and the barn door slid smoothly shut behind it, hiding the planes and his car. “Come on, let’s go. Hurry up.”
Three men carrying automatic weapons escorted him out of the barn and down a long, narrow, crushed-gravel path lined by tall palm trees that swayed gently in the warm breeze. It was eighty-one degrees here, even at this time of night, even at this time of year—which was nice. What made it unpleasant was the humidity. It made him sweat like a dog, it always had. He would never retire to Florida, he promised himself as he moved quickly along with the gravel crunching loudly beneath his hard-soled shoes. Northern Virginia summers were bad enough as far as humidity went.
“In there,” the man directed, motioning at the door of a small outbuilding with the barrel of his gun, which was strapped over one shoulder.
Gadanz moved into the dimly lit one-room building first, followed by the three men. It reeked of mildew, and he grimaced when he caught the first major whiff. He’d always been sensitive to nasty odors.
“Over by the far wall.”
He did as he was told. This detour did not surprise or scare him. It was simply par for the course, drama for a man who lived for drama—by a creed of drama, really—and always had. But in the final analysis, perhaps that flair for the dramatic was a key to his success, one of them, anyway. If success was what all of this could really be called.
“Turn and face us.”
Again, Gadanz did as he was ordered. It was all bullshit, but he would oblige them as he always had before—though coming in this building prior to the meeting was a first and did set off a faint alarm in the back of his brain, as he thought about it again. But it was probably nothing.
“Now what?” he asked impatiently.
“Take off your clothes,” one of the men ordered as an incredibly bright row of track lights illuminated in Gadanz’s face from in front of the men.
The blinding rays were coming straight at him, and he could no longer see the men. “What?” he asked incredulously, holding one hand to his eyes to protect them. He couldn’t have heard right. “What did you say?”
“Strip.”
He’d heard them all right. This was absurd. “I will not.”
“You will.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“We know exactly who you are. Now strip, before we take your damn clothes off for you. We search everyone the same way, no matter who they are. Those are the orders from the top.”
A few moments later he stood naked before them, with his clothes lying in a heap on the cement floor beside him. He could hear them chuckling at his doughboy physique.
“Turn around.”
Or maybe they were laughing because it only took one hand to cover his genitals.
“Now!”
“All right, all right.”
“Hands above you, palms on the wall, legs spread wide.”
“Jesus,” he muttered as he obeyed once more. That alarm in the back of his head grew louder.
Ten minutes later Gadanz sat in a spacious, starkly furnished room in one corner of the large main house. It was nearly dark in here, and he was wearing just a robe. He’d been informed that he’d get his clothes back when he left. The robe smelled pungently of detergent, and he’d noticed when he’d first entered the room that it smelled almost as strongly of disinfectant. Now that he was getting accustomed to it, it wasn’t so noticeable.
Wasn’t that always the way with everything? First impressions were so important, he thought as he looked around and his eyes became more accustomed to the lack of light. He had to admit he was relieved. He’d thought maybe there was more to all of what had happened in the outbuilding than simply a search of his person. He hadn’t been worried about his life, not really. But he’d come to the conclusion that people as a whole were pretty depraved sexually, and he’d been concerned that the search was going to get personal.
Gadanz was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair that was decidedly too small for him and felt as if it might collapse beneath his weight at any moment. It was positioned directly in front of a much larger chair that was set on a raised platform such that anyone sitting in it would be several feet above him. It was as if he were waiting for an audience with a king.
Gadanz hadn’t visited here in three months. In that short time, the level of eccentricity, arrogance, and delusions of grandeur had clearly reached new, unprecedented, and frightening heights, he realized as he gazed at the platform and the large chair on it. Daniel had to be out of his mind by now—or within a razor’s edge.
After fifteen painfully slow-passing minutes, a door on the far side of the dimly lit room finally
opened, and a hooded figure entered, followed closely by two more individuals. The lead figure moved deliberately toward the platform, climbed the stairs at the back of it, and eased into the large, comfortable-looking chair. As he climbed the stairs, the other two individuals peeled off on either side of the platform until they were parallel to the chair atop the platform, where they stopped and stood with their arms at their sides.
Only then did Gadanz realize that these other two individuals were women—gorgeous women who were completely naked.
“Hello, Jacob.”
“Hello, Daniel,” Gadanz replied respectfully as his younger brother pulled the hood back and gazed down from the platform.
Jacob had been completely prepared to lambaste Daniel for the terrible treatment he’d received since arriving at the compound. But now that he was in his brother’s presence, he was not so keen to criticize. The naked women were staring straight at him, making him nervous. Worse, Daniel scared the hell out of him. He always had, ever since they were children, despite being the younger sibling. The thing about Daniel: From a very young age he would always do what others would not to get what he wanted. He was always willing to go one step further, no matter the consequences. So at that early age he’d developed a fierce reputation. He’d carried that attitude with him into adulthood and had become fabulously wealthy. Of course, the cause-and-effect dynamic had followed Daniel around, as it inevitably followed everyone. He wasn’t immune from the laws of nature just because he was fierce.
“I trust you’ve been well, brother.”
Daniel sniffed as though he had a cold or a nasal infection. “Well enough.” But it was probably the cocaine causing his irritation.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Like Jacob, Daniel was tall and swarthy with a prominent belly. They were only a year apart in age, and physically they looked quite similar. But somehow, Daniel managed to cut a noticeably more imposing figure. Even Jacob recognized that. Daniel was naturally charismatic—Jacob not at all. It was just one of those intangibles for which there was no reasonable explanation. But that was okay. Charisma inevitably brought attention, which Jacob reviled.
“How are Elaina and Sophie?” Daniel asked in his whispery, gravelly voice.
“They’re fine. In fact, they’re the main reason I’ve come all the way down here to see you tonight. I need to talk to you about—”
“How is the business?”
“It’s fine, Daniel, just fine.”
“Are you keeping Kaashif’s men well supplied with cash?” Daniel asked, sniffing hard twice.
“Yes, but I—”
“It’s so important that you do,” he said, nodding at the women in turn. “So important,” he repeated. “They are doing my most important work.”
The women moved to where Jacob sat and knelt down in front of him side by side. They were young, beautiful, and blond, and both of them placed their hands on his bare knees after spreading his robe slightly apart. It quickly became embarrassing for him, but he tried to ignore his obvious physical reaction. Sasha had been reasonably pretty at one time long ago, but never anything like these girls. He’d never been with any woman who was even close to as beautiful as they. Now that they were so near and he could see their delicate features more clearly, he wondered if they were even eighteen.
“Daniel,” he spoke up, trying desperately to block them out of his mind, “I can’t be involved in that situation anymore.”
“You can and you will,” Daniel retorted gently but firmly as one of the girls dutifully lifted a small mirror to Jacob’s face and handed him a short straw while the other slid her hand far up Jacob’s thigh. “You must. I trust you to carry out my work.”
Jacob took the straw, placed one end in his nose, leaned down, pointed the other at one end of a thick, caterpillar-like formation of white powder, and inhaled deeply as he snorted all of the powder into one nostril. The effect was instantaneous. Adrenaline began coursing powerfully through his system, and there was a pleasant, numbing drip at the back of his throat, which helped drive the buzzing in his body to an intensely pleasurable level.
“Have you met with Kaashif directly?” Jacob asked, handing the straw back to the beauty kneeling at his feet.
“Yes. It was necessary for planning purposes.”
“That puts me in so much danger, brother. How could you do that to me? You told me I would always be the go-between. You told me you would never meet with him.”
“Things changed. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine, Jacob.”
“My business must be completely legitimate. No more money laundering for these people. Please, Daniel.”
“I’m sorry, Jacob, but you must continue your commitment to me. This is the most important time.”
“I’ve paid you back for staking me. You gave me a million dollars to found Gadanz and Company, and I’ve given you ten million in return. Let me go. My debt is more than repaid, brother.”
“I told you I’d need a favor someday that didn’t involve money. This is it. I need your loyalty now more than ever.”
The same girl handed Jacob the mirror and the straw again. She’d prepared another huge line for him from out of a small clear package. Once again he did the entire length of it in a single snort, though with the other nostril. He closed his eyes in quiet ecstasy as the powder worked its magic. This was the good stuff. Not the shit the street snorted.
“Kaashif wants me to set the squad up in another location,” Jacob explained. He was aware that he was suddenly talking louder and faster, but he couldn’t rein himself in.
“They cannot be apprehended. Not yet, Jacob. They haven’t created enough chaos yet. I want many more people dead. They need a safe place to hole up. You must take care of them.”
“Why has this responsibility to take care of the squad in northern Virginia fallen on me?”
“Because Imelda was taken, and she has not resurfaced. Kaashif told you that.” Daniel cleared his throat loudly. “You may need to help me in other areas of the country as well. Kaashif cannot do everything himself. The squads must be supplied.”
Jacob licked his lips and clenched his teeth. The girls were kissing his thighs and running their fingers all over him. His embarrassment had grown to epic proportions. Flaccid, he was small. Fully inflated, he was immense. The men in the outbuilding had laughed. They wouldn’t laugh now.
“Please, Daniel, don’t make me do this. My daughters could be in danger.”
“They’ll be fine. They’re in no danger. I would never let anything happen to Elaina and Sophie. They are my nieces.” Daniel laughed softly as he rose from the large chair and moved carefully back down the steps. “You’ll do my bidding, brother,” he called over his shoulder as he neared the door, “as you always do.”
As Daniel exited the room, one of the girls stood up, then leaned over and began kissing Jacob deeply while the other spread his robe and his legs far apart before running her tongue up the length of him. He gasped with pleasure and then allowed himself to be led from the small wooden chair to the large comfortable chair Daniel had just vacated.
When he had relaxed into it, the girls began to please him again. While one straddled him and slowly moved up and down, the other fed his nose the purest cocaine he’d ever experienced. Then the girls switched positions. Over and over they did this, whispering to him that he could do anything he wanted to them—which he did. He’d never experienced anything like this in his life.
For the next five hours Jacob Gadanz took full advantage of what Daniel had unexpectedly made available. Jacob had made his deal with the devil. He knew that absolutely, but he couldn’t help himself. He was weak. He knew that, too. This was the carrot—but there was a stick, too. A very big and very bad stick, which would do immense damage.
He would have to run when he got home, he realized as his pleasure reached the tipping poi
nt for the first time. It was the only alternative now. His brother had politely but absolutely conveyed to him that if he did not comply, he would be murdered—as would his daughters. Daniel had not said so in so many words, but Jacob knew his brother. The code was clear.
CHAPTER 25
“WHO IS your contact?”
“What are you talking about, Mr. President?”
“Don’t give me that, Stewart,” Dorn growled as he glanced out the Oval Office window at a cold, clear late-December dawn that was just breaking over Washington, DC. “Don’t play your goddamn mind games with me.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I really wasn’t trying to—”
“Enough.”
He and Baxter were the only two people in there, since Connie had gone to get a Coke and a cigarette. He was feeling much better this morning despite the Holiday Mall Attacks and the attack on the elementary school in Missouri. He’d actually gotten some decent sleep, the pain in his chest wasn’t as sharp anymore, and he was starting to feel like his old self again—headstrong and convinced he was right about everything. He still had a ways to go to full recovery, but the end of his rehabilitation was finally in sight.
“I’m tired of you doing that to me, Stewart,” Dorn kept going. He was thinking about giving Connie the day off, actually ordering her to take it off. He felt that good; he couldn’t have her listening to a lot of what was said in here today; and he didn’t feel like telling her to get lost every time he needed privacy. “Who told you Bill Jensen was the one who gave the ultimate order to have me assassinated?”
“Sir, I don’t think that’s something you want to—”
“Damn it, Stewart, no more. I want to know, and I want to know now.”
Baxter drew himself up in the chair. “A man I’ve known for twenty-three years. He’s a friend of my son’s. They trained together. They’re close.” Baxter paused. “His name is Shane Maddux.”