Rhodes joined him. The cloud formations didn’t impress her. “What about him?” she asked.
Walter stared at Samuel. He looked as helpless as a newborn calf. “Too late now. We’ll have to wait till tonight.”
Samuel silently uttered a prayer of thanks. He had a reprieve, albeit a temporary one. The moment they walked back into the house, he painfully popped another pill.
The two cars were parked fairly discretely at the entrance to a private road where they could keep an eye on the front gate of the lake house. Without the cover of darkness, however, their position was becoming less discrete. Howard looked over his shoulder. Now that the sun was rising, residents from the little subdivision would likely begin leaving for their routine activities. It seemed a safe bet that one of the emerging homeowners would place an annoying call to the Chief of Police.
A rap on the side window startled Howard and Sara. A man in suit, standing too tall to see his face, motioned for them to roll down the window. Reluctantly, Howard complied.
“Frank Hernandez sent me.” The man spoke softly. Follow me.” He walked to a running car park up the road farther from the lake house.
Ten minutes down the road, the man stopped in a restaurant parking lot, got out, and leaned against his car.
Howard and Sara stopped next to him. Beth was right behind. They could see him clearly now—the man who passed them going into the police station.
“Tyler Bennett,” he said, flashing his FBI badge and credentials. “Frank called. Said we had clearance to step it up.”
“Who’s Frank?” Sara asked.
“My friend at the FBI,” Howard explained.
“Officially, we couldn’t get involved right away. But now that it’s been more than twenty-four hours,” Bennett explained.
“Has this gone public?” Beth asked.
“No,” Bennett answered. “We’re keeping it close-hold for now.”
“We? Who’s we?” Sara asked.
“Look, people in Washington were a little skeptical at first. Some thought it might be a political stunt. You get a little jaded after a few years in that town. But now, every agency on the east coast is involved. FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, Florida police, county sheriff, Pinnacle Point police. You name it.”
“That was fast,” Howard marveled.
“Yeah, everybody pretty much went from cynical to concerned at the same time,” Bennett explained. “It could be terrorists. Nothing they’d like better than to snuff a US senator in our own backyard.”
Sara let out an involuntary gasp.
“Sorry,” Bennett continued, “I’m just telling you the way it is. Look, when a friend calls, you bend the rules a little. Frank called me. I called a buddy at NSA. And so on. It got the ball in play.”
“How did you know it was Walter Bensen?” Beth asked.
“We didn’t. Everyone was working off the assumption of terrorists, foreign or homegrown, who knew,” Bennett answered. “But then, Senator Ramirez calls my big boss.”
“Oh.” Beth blushed.
“You know something about that?” Howard asked her.
“It might have something to do with my call to Mister Czeiler from the hospital,” she said sheepishly.
“It was a good call then,” Bennett said. He checked his watch. “In a few minutes, we’re going to have eyes on the house from all sides.”
“Then it is Walter Bensen’s house?” Sara asked.
“You were watching the right place,” Bennett conceded. “But how did you know?”
“Long story,” Sara replied.
Bennett continued looking at her, waiting.
“My mother. Call it woman’s intuition,” Sara said.
Bennett accepted the explanation. “Well it was right on the money this time. We were watching at his beach house. Walter’s here all right.”
“You knew about his beach house?” Beth asked.
“We like to know where Mister Bensen is at all times, what with his overseas ventures. His company’s been involved in some gray areas for quite awhile. Government contracts. I can’t tell you more than that except that the FBI has just been waiting on a change in administrations to clamp down.”
“Suddenly the election is more important than ever,” Howard mused.
“My daddy’s what is important at the moment,” Sara reminded him.
“You’re right,” Bennett concurred. He looked at his watch again. “Chief Anderson’s got fishing boats on the lake by now. A friend of mine will be blocking the canal. Sheriff’s office is setting up roadblocks. What we need is a legitimate reason to get into the house.”
“Can’t you make something up?” Sara asked.
“We’d like to catch Walter in the act. Kidnapping is a federal offense. It would ensure that the head of the snake goes away for a long time vice maybe just slapping his company with a humongous fine.”
“What kind of reason would you need to get in there?” Beth asked.
“A call for help from the senator would be nice,” Bennett postulated.
“How about a disturbance at the front gate?” Beth asked.
“That would give Anderson’s people ample cause,” Bennett answered. “We could tag along. Once we’re inside, different ballgame. What did you have in mind?”
“That’s a rental, right, Howard?” Beth asked, pointing at his car.
“Oh, no. You are thinking of crashing my car into the front gate?” Howard asked.
“Well, given your driving record, I was thinking more of you doing it,” she said. “If you can breach it, I’ll play the intruder.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Bennett stated. “If it went south, my ass would be on the line.” He glanced quickly at Sara and back at Beth. “Sorry for the language, ladies,” he apologized. “It’s been a long night.”
“Look,” Beth countered raising her sling-bound right arm, “I’m owed payback. I can handle myself. Howard can stay in the car.”
“I’m going,” Sara declared.
“Jesus,” Bennett said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. Let me call Anderson and set it up. Make sure everyone is reading off the same sheet of music. You,” he said pointing at Sara, “can ride with me in the back seat but I want your word that you’ll stay there, no matter what. The last thing I need is for something to happen to the senator and his daughter.”
The three of them stared at Sara. Finally she said through pouted lips, “Fine.”
“I will be lucky if Dollar rents to me after this,” Howard said under his breath.
A half-hour later, Samuel exited the bathroom, holding onto the wall for support. He had swallowed another Aleve while in there, well past the recommended dosage over time. He made his way back to the lanai, stepping very deliberately and holding onto the walls or furniture as much as he could.
“Y’all are lookin’ bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Walter joked.
“Glad it looks that way from where you stand,” Samuel shot back. The physical pain had subsided somewhat. The mental acuity was returning more rapidly.
“I’d offer you breakfast,” Walter said, “but there’s doesn’t seem to be any food in the house.”
Rhodes walked in from the kitchen chewing a bagel. “This would be the last of it,” she said smiling. She chewed with relish.
“A little bourbon wouldn’t hurt,” Samuel said.
Rhodes and Walter looked at each other, surprised by the suggestion.
“Why not,” Walter offered.
Rhodes poured a double from the liquor cabinet. She handed it to Samuel. He sipped less than half and handed it back. Walter watch, amused.
“Y’all sure?” Walter asked.
“Yeah,” Samuel replied. He eased his way to the lawn chair on the lanai.
Rhodes handed him the bourbon.
“Y’all sure you can handle this?” Walter asked Rhodes.
“No problem,” she replied, focusing on Samuel.
“Call me,” Walter instr
ucted. “I’m headin’ out ‘fore the town wakes up.”
She waited until Walter cleared the kitchen doorway. She took the syringe he had given her and drew it full of the milky liquid. “If this stuff does what Walter claims, I don’t see the point in waiting. It’ll make you easier to handle.”
Samuel squirmed. He was half on his feet when she grabbed the chair, pulling it away from him. Unsupported, he fell face first on the mattress. Like a cat, she was on him, a knee in his back, his left arm twisted behind him.
“Walter forgot to mention how much of this stuff to give you.” She laid the syringe aside. Pealed his jacket down from the shoulders, both arms now behind him. “Guess we’ll try half. If that doesn’t kill you, well, we’ll see. It’ll be a new experience for both of us.”
Samuel tried to wriggle free. It amused her. It was like watching a fish on dry land flopping about trying to get back in the water. She held the syringe, waiting for him to quit struggling, wanting him to expend all his energy.
From their vantage point in the private drive, Howard and Beth watched in the rental car. A deputy and Sara sat in Bennett’s car. Bennett and Chief Anderson, holding a walkie-talkie, bent over Howard’s car, one on each side, keeping a low profile, trying to blend into the line of the car.
Suddenly the gates swung open. The Expedition poked its nose out. The tinted windows prevented seeing who was in it.
“Go!” Bennett shouts.
“Close in! Close in!” Anderson shouts into the walkie-talkie.
Howard hits the gas. The car shoots forward.
Bennett and Anderson sprint for their car.
The Expedition clears the gates, turning down the road away from the little posse.
On the lake, from three points three fishing boats, throttles wide open, roar towards the house.
Howard presses the pedal to the floor. The rental fishtails down the road. Just as the gates swing nearly closed, BANG, the car hits them. The left hand gate gives way. Howard swerves right, Samuel’s warning on the bridge ringing in his subconscious.
Rhodes hears the commotion. She’s off Samuel in a heartbeat. She rushes to the kitchen window.
Samuel takes his chance. With his last ounce of energy, he pulls himself up by the lawn chair. He throws his body against the locked screen door. The door holds but the screen tears.
Rhodes wheels. Instinctively, she fires two shots at Samuel falling through the door. Pfftt. Pftt. The silencer has thrown off her aim.
He tumbles down the steps, banging his head and body. Excruciating pain. From somewhere inside his head he hears his own screams but it’s disconnected, like something from a bad movie, maybe from the combination of painkillers and bourbon, maybe from some form of primal self-preservation.
Beth leans against Howard and kicks at her door. Jammed. He slams his shoulder against his door. Also jammed. With her good arm, she struggles to climb out the window, the savage-looking knife clenched between her teeth.
Rhodes runs to the lanai, unscrewing the silencer. She takes aim through the torn screen. Bang! Bang! Two shots. Samuel falls face first in the shallow water.
Beth sprints for the house.
Bennett jumps on Howard’s car, runs over the top. Anderson and the deputy, guns drawn, follow his lead.
At the sound of the kitchen door being kicked open, Rhodes whirls and drops to one knee. Bang! A shot from outside. Rhodes swings her gun in the direction of the sound. “Fucking idiot!” she hears someone scream.
Then pain in her right hand. Beth is on her, kicking the gun out of her hand. Their eyes lock like two tigresses ready to fight to the death. Rhodes sneers at the knife in Beth’s good left hand. She feints. Beth lunges. Rhodes grabs her wrist and twists. Bang! A shot into the ceiling. Rhodes and Beth freeze.
Flakes of white paint drift down on Bennett standing in the kitchen, 9-millimeter pistol pointed at Rhodes. Sara bursts into the kitchen behind him.
“Where’s daddy?” she screams.
Two black soulless eyes glide swiftly toward Samuel’s limp body. The ten-foot body just below the placid surface barely makes ripple. Giant jaws with rows of ripping teeth open.
Crack! A single rifle shot.
The jaws fall shut, splashing, a bullet hole at the base of the skull.
A big man, dark skin, shoulder length black hair, grabs Samuel under his arms, pulls his limp body into the boat. He lays him against the front bench and pumps his chest. Water spews out. He pumps again. More water, an inward gasp of air, and a blood curdling scream.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It took a couple hours to get everything straightened out. Samuel was taken to the hospital. The bullets had missed their mark but the tree root hadn’t. Later, whenever he told the story, he would say that it was the luckiest trip of his life, despite the body bruises and lump on his head.
In the emergency examining cubicle, curtained-off from other patients and staff, he sat on the edge of the bed, thanking everyone repeatedly for their help. The hospital gown covered all his bruises except the one on his forehead. The doctor had been generous in prescribing another painkiller. Propped up on the bed, Samuel hadn’t felt so good in days.
Conversation stopped suddenly when he stared at Beth for a long moment. He wagged a finger at her, saying, “You were at the beach, on the float.”
She pulled her knife from her purse. “And at the car with Carlos.”
“I thought you were dead,” Samuel exclaimed.
She touched her injured shoulder. “Close, no cigar.”
Chief Anderson was the last to arrive at the hospital. “County sheriff’s roadblock got the Expedition. Guess Walter Bensen was trying to hightail it for home.”
“Too bad,” Samuel responded. He wanted closure. He wanted to face Walter Bensen, to curse him, show him that he, Samuel Winters, was still alive and kicking, tell him money can’t buy everything, can’t buy what’s important—family, friends, friends of friends. That would have to wait. Perhaps at trial. Perhaps when the son-of-a-bitch was behind bars.
“I was just telling the others,” Bennett said, “that Frank called from Washington. It’s a little thin but the Houston office convinced a judge to issue a search warrant of Bensen and Bensen offices.”
“You should tell them to hurry before someone like Dusty has a chance to purge the place,” Beth said. “Tell them to check his right arm for marks from a big knife.”
Bennett stepped aside to make a phone call.
Howard looked at her questioningly.
“I’ll tell you about on the way to Jacksonville,” she said. “There might have been a few details about the car accident on the beltway I neglected.” She quickly diverted the attention. “Say, Chief, what was that shot all about?”
Anderson shook his head. “Goddamn deputy. Tripped and fell right on me. My gun went off when I hit the ground.”
The group laughed.
The man with the shoulder length hair walked in.
“Senator, I’d like you to meet my friend, Charlie,” Bennett said.
“I understand you were the one who pulled me out,” Samuel said.
“Just lucky I happened to be there,” Charlie replied. “I was fishing on the other lake when Tyler called me.”
“You always fish with a rifle?” Samuel asked.
“Sometimes a gator thinks your fish are his fish, “Charlie answered. “It’s good to be prepared.”
“About that,” Bennett asked, “how come you were here? I’ve never known you to fish this far north before.”
“Never did,” Charlie explained. “I had a vision. My grandfather came to me and said, ‘Why don’t you go and fish that lake?’ So I did.”
“I’m sure glad you listened to your grandfather,” Samuel said.
“He’s been dead a long time,” Charlie explained. “But anyone who will not listen to his visions is already dead.”
“You sound like my grandpa,” Sara said.
Samuel winced.
�
��He must be a wise man,” Charlie said and then grinned. “Is he Seminole?”
Again, the group chuckled.
“No,” Samuel joked, “but his uncle once lived with the Indians.”
“That might explain it,” Charlie offered. “There was a strange white man standing next to my grandfather in my vision.”
The room went silent. Strange looks came over the people. They weren’t sure if Charlie meant it or he was just putting them on.
He read the looks. He had seen them before. “In the spirit world,” he explained, “all men are brothers.” He winked at Bennett.
Samuel saw the look that passed between them. “I’m a little confused,” he said to Bennett. “I’m glad that you did but why did you call Charlie?”
Bennett looked at the floor, cleared his throat, lifted his head. “I thought he might come in handy in a recovery operation,” he said in a low voice.
“You mean searching for my body?” Samuel stated more than asked.
“Yes.”
“Almost forgot, I found these in the canal.” Charlie held up the tip of a finger severed at the second joint and a piece of cloth.
Anderson took them, examined them. Bennett peered over his shoulder.
“Want me to have forensic look at them?” Bennett asked. “Maybe they can get a print.”
Anderson hesitated.
“Hey, it’s your case,” Bennett said. “I’ll get them back to you.”
“Where in the canal?” Anderson asked Charlie.
“It looked like there was a channel off to the right,” he replied. “I didn’t have time to explore.”
“I better go do that,” Anderson said. “Maybe there’s more the gators missed.” He left abruptly.
Bennett looked at his watch. “Look, Senator, we can give you a lift to the airport but I don’t think you can catch the last flight to Burlington.”
“Not a problem,” Beth interjected. “Mister Czeiler’s jet is still at Jacksonville. That’s where we were headed when we got … distracted.”
Samuel eased a foot to the floor.
“You sure you can make it?” Sara asked.
He held up a bottle of prescription medication. “Oh, yeah. I’m back in touch with my vision. I’m looking forward to eating Mister Thomas’s lunch.”
Mid-Life Friends and Illusions Page 21