by Mike Dagons
“That’s a good idea,” Blue answered. “Listen, I talked to some of the locals about the dinner party, and they’re all pretty excited. Basin apparently throws the gala twice a year. Most of the prominent members of the community are invited, and the whole town profits from it. Almost every teenager in town over fifteen is hired to work for two days, and I hear they’re paid enough to stimulate the local economy. The guy who manages the hotel, which Basin owns, says he throws the party just to give the teenagers summer jobs. He told us that his son made five thousand dollars in salary and tips for the two days last year. He definitely knows how to give back, and it’s why these people love him. The people who work in his factory, which is almost every man and woman in town, get free health care. That alone is enough to make them kill for him. Most of the people we’ve talked to are white, so maybe Basin isn’t as prejudice as we’ve been led to believe.”
“He sounds like an angel, but we know he’s not, so make sure y’all keep a low profile and avoid confrontations,” Melvin responded. “Blue, what’s the ETA from where you are to them?”
“Ten minutes or less,” he came back.
“You saw anybody patrolling the woods, Valow?”
“Nah, the only thing we see out here is a few fishermen.”
“The property is heavily guarded. If they haven’t ventured into the woods already, we don’t want to give them a reason to think about it, so stay low and quiet,” Melvin warned again.
“Roger that,” he came back.
“I am surprised Mr. Battle overlooked the threat of a river approach. You think he’s got some traps set?” Chavez asked.
“Me, and John ain’t been out there, but if you listen to Roc it’s the scariest place he’s ever been. He’s afraid he’s going to step on a land mine,” Blue said, and they all laughed.
“We laughing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if LaRue ain’t got a few buried out there, so be careful,” Chavez said.
“I’m more worried about snakes than bombs, but I ain’t sharing that information with Roc,” Valow laughed.
“You better not if you want Roc to say out there after dark,” Chavez laughed with him. “Where is he anyway?”
“Reconnoitering, his link is open, but I got him on another frequency.”
“Smart man—we’ll check back with y’all later tonight,” Melvin said, and they all signed off.
“Is Viper still in town?” Chavez asked.
“They have two men sitting on Steven’s loft. I guess they’re waiting to see if the murderer is going to return to the scene of the crime. I’m sure they have the autopsy report by now, and know that he was poisoned,” Bender answered.
“You think they suspect we are involved?” Melvin asked.
“It has to be considered a possibility.”
“You’re starting to feel better about the operation’s success now that you’ve talked to the team?” Chavez asked.
“Hell nah! I still got a feeling that we’re in for a surprise.”
Chapter 21
“You think Basin is going to be waiting to greet us?” Rayce asked after they cleared the second check point.
“No doubt, you feel operational?” Choc grinned.
“Damn straight, and you?”
“I’m nervous as hell,” D’Agon joined the conversation.
“So am I, really,” Rayce sighed.
Choc placed his hand on her knee and smiled reassuringly. “Just relax. We’re following the rules he laid out to us,” he closed his eyes and wished he could take his own advice.
For a few minutes, Choc allowed his mind to travel back to the night the two men from Basin’s security team landed a helicopter on Sego Island, and hand delivered the invitation to attend the Basin Annual Dinner Party.
After they verified his identity, he was read a list of rules and regulations: security and suitable accommodations were to be provided by Mr. Basin, so accompanying entourages were limited to two individuals per invitation. Only one side arm, and one extra speed loader, mag, or stripper clip per person was going to be allowed. Attempts to smuggle in additional arms and all disturbances would be answered with lethal force. All guest had to arrive between one and three o’clock p.m., Friday afternoon, and attend the formal dinner party that night to be eligible to attend the auction. Late arrivals would forfeit bids, and be denied admittance onto the property. Once pass the check points, no one was going to be allowed to leave the grounds, for any reason, until the auction was over, and the winner had been safely escorted off the property. The bidding was to start at six billion dollars, and the winner had to be prepared to electronically transfer funds immediately. Naturally, the deposit would be verified before they were given possession of the property. Bidding more than his liquid assets afforded him to pay immediately would be considered a security breach, and it would be answered with deadly force.
Choc understood the restricted weapons rule was designed to prevent a guest from showing up with an arsenal to try to take the card.
He was told that he could fly into the town, but he had to drive to the Basin Property. No cabs or limo drivers were going to be allowed unless he submitted their name as a member of his personal entourage.
After the rules had been read to him, Choc was asked to sign a notepad if he agreed to accept the guidelines. He was also asked for the names of the two people that would be accompanying him.
“And if I don’t sign,” he had asked.
“You have the option to refuse. I’ll simply remove your name from the guest list, and then offer someone else your invitation. Your money will be refunded to the account it was drawn from immediately.”
Choc signed as William Segal, and accepted the beautifully embossed invitation, which he was told he must present at each check point.
So far, there had been no surprises. Rayce was carrying the duplicate card in a specially designed powder compact. Their primary objective was to switch it with the real card after the winner took possession.
If they failed to make the switch, their only other option would be to take the card from the winner by force after they left the Basin property. It was the less desirable approach, and would undoubtedly earn them some pushback.
Choc opened his eyes when he felt Rayce’s small hand slip into his. “We’re here,” she said. “You’re frowning, what’s wrong?”
He glanced at the rear view, and saw D’Agon’s eyes dead on his. He was the senior member of their team, and they were looking to him for guidance. Over the years, he had learned the importance of being able to conceal his true feelings. Now, more than ever, he needed to smile through the nerves. So, for the sake of team morale, he put on his cool façade. “I’m cool. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t forget my fucking name,” he grinned.
They all laughed, and seemed a little more relaxed now that he was laughing with them.
Chapter 22
I had an unobstructed view of the activity on the north lawn from my bedroom window. The Basin’s expansive lawn was decorated with party tents, tables with pretty colored umbrellas, and buffet serving tables. People dressed in crisp black and white uniforms were moving about busily.
Mr. Sherman, the head chef, was a stately black gentleman who had worked for Tyler Basin for thirty five years. He took care of all business pertaining to kitchen supplies, food orders, and food preparation. I’d gotten to know him fairly well the past week. I saw him come out the house and direct a group of men who got out a truck with the words, Garden Party Rentals stenciled on the sides. Another group of men were unloading food warming equipment.
Mr. Sherman was real talkative. I learned from him that Basin’s hatred for white people came from stories he heard from his grandfather about the abuse his family suffered during slavery at the hands of the master of the tobacco plantation. His great, great grandfather, who had been a slave, lived and died at the Jefferson Manor before the Civil War. Nobody knew if the stories were true, but it was the reason Basin bought the old toba
cco plantation and most of the surrounding land in the late 1970’s.
Mr. Sherman said Basin had restored it to its original glory, and then renamed it, The Basin Plantation. During the extensive renovations, which took a few years to finish according to Mr. Sherman, a second servant’s quarters was added, and a sub-basement that only he, Mr. Joshua, the butler, and Ms. Loretta, the housekeeping supervisor, knew how to access.
I watched Mr. Sherman disappear into the house for a few minutes, and then he reappeared being followed by a large group of young people dressed in white shirts and black knee shorts. The colors meant they worked with the kitchen staff.
Mr. Joshua, a gray haired white man, who looked to be old as time, ran the house. He told me that he’d known Tyler Basin since he was a boy, and he’d worked for him for years before he bought the plantation, which was longer than anyone else in his employment.
You only had to be in a room with them together for a few minutes to see Tyler Basin had genuine feelings for the old man. Mr. Joshua had the power to hire and fire as he saw fit. He was Basin’s trusted confidant, so there was no doubt in my mind that he knew everything there was to know about the auction. He was also too cunning to be tricked into divulging information, and I was too smart to ask him anything about it directly.
Working for Tyler Basin’s annual parties was a highly sought after job, because the pay was great, and you got to spend the weekend at the marvelous Plantation.
There were about fifty teenagers hired to work this weekend. It was the first time working one of his parties for some of them, and others did it every summer.
Shirley did the summer hiring, and she didn’t discriminate. All you had to do to qualify for the job was be between the ages of fifteen and twenty two, and live in Big Foot. Shirley supplied the uniforms, free meals, and semi-private sleeping quarters. No experience was required. All they had to do was work hard, smile a lot, and be polite.
Six young men and four young women wearing red shirts, black shorts, and reflector vests with the word, valet, in big block letters across the chest and back came out the house and stood in a line next to the driveway. Ten more kids wearing the same black shorts, but with white shirts and black vest, stood at attention behind them.
Valeting for Basin was a prestigious job. You could make a lot of money in very little time, so it was the dream job that everybody wanted. You had to have a driver’s license, and the experience of working two previous summers to even be considered for it.
I watched the kids who had earned the privilege to valet, proudly standing there waiting to start working. They all appeared to be happy to be there, and none of them seemed to be bothered by the heat like I was. I couldn’t help thinking Tyler Basin was doing a lot of good in this town, and giving these kids jobs was just the half of it.
Right on schedule, the procession of luxury cars started rolling up the long driveway and through the stone pillar gateway to the house. Armed guards walked the perimeter of the grounds, making their presence known, but staying far enough back not to be obtrusive.
One after the other, the cars stopped in front of the house’s north entrance, and well dressed men and women stepped out and were greeted by eager valets who took their car keys, and luggage. The cars were driven to the parking area on the far side of the house to a barn that was being used as a parking garage.
I was introduced to the staff as Steven’s fiancée, and when I told them that I worked for McDonald’s in Chicago, none of them wanted to believe he’d actually asked a poor chick to marry him.
I’d spent the week I’d been here making myself useful and bonding with the staff. I got up early every morning, just like the rest of them, and worked like I was getting a paycheck. It gave me the chance to explore the house, and ask questions without arousing suspicions. It also earned me a lot of friends.
I cried a lot at his funeral, and got Shirley to ask me to stay with them a little while longer. I told her that working there was therapeutic for me, and I thanked Ms. Loretta for allowing me to help out.
Being down to earth won me major cool points, and people felt comfortable speaking freely in front of me. I fit in so well, I think that Shirley was tempted to offer me a job after I fixed her some cut potato fries, and fried pickles for a snack.
Helping the maids clean, got me into the bedrooms. It’s how I learned about the video and audio surveillance that was installed in every guest room.
While I was working, I had sneaked a peek at the guest list, and saw which two rooms had been assigned to Segal. I also found Yeltsin’s two rooms.
The mayor and his wife were also on the list, and had been brought in by helicopter that morning. I could see the helipad from the window at the end of the hall in the south wing. I’d heard that it would be flying out again to pick up some more of the top brass. I guess only the people coming for the auction had to drive.
I knew that Basin was reported to be a racist, but you couldn’t tell it from his hiring practices. He employed men and women, black, white, Hispanic, and Asian, and he paid everyone a really good salary. If you could do the job, you could work for him. You just couldn’t get his blessing to marry into his family. My guess is, he tolerated me because Steven was dead, and would never be able to marry me.
The house was enormous, three stories high and a city block wide. It had more bathrooms than the white house, and so many doors that looked alike, it was easy to get lost.
I’d learned how to navigate by using the red elevator as the focal point from Ms. Loretta. In the time I’d spent there, I’d learned that Shirley wasn’t nearly as prejudice as she led people to believe either. She was kind to the servants, and they all loved her as much as they loved Tyler.
Ceylon Battle, who I admit I was attracted to, avoided me whenever he could. I figured it was because he was attracted to me too. Mark Basin was the exact opposite. He showed up wherever I went, like he had a tracker on me, and he taunted me constantly with lewd racist comments. Being in the house with him was like being in grade school, except the nuisance bully was armed with an assault weapon instead of spitballs. He was a severe pain in my ass, and I hated him.
I was relieved when I saw Choc and D’Agon get out a Bentley at the valet station with a woman I almost didn’t recognize as Rayce. Her hair had been cut short, and dyed with blonde highlights. She was wearing a one piece romper that hugged her ass and pushed her boobs up. It was casual, but very sexy. Unlike most of the other women I saw, she wasn’t carrying a big purse or wearing high heels.
D’Agon had shorter hair too, which made him look older and more mature. He was casually dressed and wearing his Beretta in plain sight in a shoulder holster.
Choc looked like the billion dollar man that he was suppose to be, tall, dark, and handsomely dressed in a suit that had to cost a small fortune. He handed the valet a bill when he took the keys from D’Agon. I couldn’t make out the amount from where I was, but it put a beaming smile on the kid’s face.
“Damn, they look rich,” I murmured to myself as I watched them walk into the house.
I had no plans to make contact with them right away because I wasn’t sure it would be safe to do so. I had learned how to access the subbasement vault, when Shirley was kind enough to take me down there to put my precious ring in the safe.
It looked like a bank safe deposit box vault, and it held at least two dozen boxes. There were two guards on duty, and I was told it was guarded like that all the time. I believed it was where the card was being kept, but I didn’t see a way for us to get it without Basin finding out. I had reported my findings to Bender. I’d learn soon enough if Choc planned to switch the cards before or after the auction.
I was still looking out the window when I saw Janie step out of a Rolls Royce with Yeltsin and another big man who was strapped with a machine pistol.
Seeing her there was surprising enough, but seeing her with Yeltsin, the man who allegedly wanted her dead, shocked the hell out of me. The thought that M
elvin may have let her walk crossed my mind, but I dismissed it almost immediately. There was no way he would ever do that without letting me know. She must have escaped, but when and how?
I rushed into the bathroom, which was the only place not monitored by cameras, and took my e-mail device out my belt and plugged it into my cell. I sent Bender a message telling him that Janie was here with Yeltsin. I didn’t wait for a response. I put the thing back in my belt, and then flushed and washed my hands in case the bathroom was being audio monitored.
I opened the door to find myself face to face with Mark Basin standing in the doorway and blocking my exit. “Who you texting?” he asked.
“What you got? Fucking super ears? Excuse me, can I get out?” I asked without meeting his gaze.
“Give me your phone,” he said, and then caught me up in my collar, roughly forcing me up on my toes.
I pulled my cell out my pocket and pushed it at him. “I wasn’t texting anybody. I was playing a game,” I snapped.
He pulled me across the room, and then flung me onto the bed. “Let’s see who you been calling,” he started going through my cell, and I thanked God I hadn’t used it without the scrambling device since I arrived.
“You satisfied?” I snapped after he searched a few minutes.
“Nah, but I’d like to be. Why don’t you get on your knees and handle that for me, baby,” he smirked.
“You are ridiculous,” I got up off the bed and started to walk around him.
“What’s your rush?” he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“I’d like to go down to the buffet to get something to eat,” I lied.