The Shut Mouth Society

by James D. Best

  Chapter 33

  Evarts didn’t breathe easy until they emerged from the Passageway onto the open street. He touched Mr. Greene’s shoulder to stop his progress and asked, “Are you staying in a Society safe house?”

  “I guess you could call it that. Do you think we should go there?”

  “I’m not sure,” Evarts said. “People at the Roger Sherman Inn know you went to Omaha. The bad guys can find you as easily as we did.”

  “They’re not looking for us. If they come here, it’s because they followed you.”

  “No one followed us … why wouldn’t they be looking for you?” Evarts asked.

  “I’ll explain after we get off the street.” He pointed to a factory building about three blocks away. “We’re in that building. Loft 21. Second floor, corner unit.”

  “That’s an apartment building?” Baldwin asked.

  “An old slaughterhouse converted into lofts for New York wannabes.”

  “Thoroughly hosed, I should hope.” Evarts looked over the street scene. “We walk separately. I go with Mr. Greene, and Trish and Nancy go together.”

  “Why?” Mrs. Greene looked puzzled.

  “The bad guys are looking for couples. Two men and two women walking together won’t register.”

  “They’re called the union, but I agree they’re bad people. And, please, call me Benjamin.” Mr. Greene said magnanimously.

  Evarts nodded and crossed the street. Benjamin Greene followed. They walked a block before Greene asked, “Do you know your part in this affair?”

  Evarts felt irritated thinking that someone had defined a part for him in what Greene referred to as an affair, but he simply said, “No.”

  “You’re a direct descendant of William Evarts. Do you recognize the name?”

  “Yes. We’ve researched some things and deduced others.”

  “Did your parents tell you about our little society?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because they wanted nothing to do with the Shut Mouth Society. Most of the members live along the eastern seaboard. Your parents moved to an isolated town as far away as they could get from us.”

  “Why did they reject the Society?”

  “They wanted a normal life.”

  “So do I.”

  “It’s far too late for that. Besides, you can’t say you’ve enjoyed a completely normal life.”

  “What do you know about me?”

  “I know everything about you,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “The Society may not have the strength of the union, but we have our resources. Enough to get a freshly commissioned second lieutenant assigned to Intelligence.”

  Evarts’s irritation suddenly turned to anger. These people had been manipulating him for years. He wanted to punch Benjamin Greene, but when he looked at the wizened face of the patrician gentleman, he restrained himself to merely say, “You sons of bitches. How dare you interfere with my life?”

  Instead of taking offense, the old man smiled. “We really aren’t to blame, you know. You were recruited by your great great grandfather.”

  “I presume you mean William Evarts?”

  “Surely, your parents told you about him, at least.”

  “My parents never talked about our ancestors.”

  “Didn’t you think that odd?”

  “No. I think it’s odd to be obsessed about people long dead.”

  This actually got a chuckle out of the old man. “I presume Miss Baldwin would disagree with that opinion.”

  “That’s different. She studies the great and treacherous men that molded history.”

  “Then she should investigate both of your families.” He pointed with an uplifted hand. “This is where we live now. Despite its appearance, our loft is quite comfortable.”

  The building’s exterior looked like a factory, but the lobby started the transformation of the slaughterhouse into a trendy condominium. The décor had that minimalist modern style popular with trendy hotels. Evarts thought the style more befitting ascetic monks than avaricious young professionals. The architects kept up the pretense by retaining the old freight elevator, but they had stripped and refinished the wooden doors and flooring to a high sheen.

  The second-floor loft had easy access to a stairwell, and Evarts saw an industrial steel door securing the living space from the hall. At first he saw no cameras, but then he noticed the kind of fiber-optic device provisioned to the Santa Barbara SWAT team. When Greene turned the key in the lock, Evarts heard the satisfying slide of a deadbolt. “Do you know the people on this floor?” he asked.

  “This floor is very quiet. Agricultural companies own most of the units and loan them to visiting lobbyists, government officials, and customers. The permanent residents bought on the upper floors to get views.”

  “That means a stranger wouldn’t look out of place.”

  “Nobody pays any attention to us.”

  “I meant the union or whatever you call them. A stranger wouldn’t raise an alarm for you.”

  “The union is what they call themselves: spelled with a lowercase u to help hide their identity. They’re probably the most powerful nongovernmental organization in the world.”

  After they stepped into the loft, Greene closed the door and pointed to a monitor. It displayed the hall, the stairwell, and a fire escape. Evarts assumed that the fire escape could be accessed through one of the large wood-cased windows that lined two walls of the loft. “We never leave without checking.”

  On the monitor, Evarts watched Baldwin and Mrs. Greene step off the elevator and approach the loft door. Mr. Greene saw the women as well and quickly opened the door for them.

  “See anything suspicious?” Evarts asked as they entered the loft.

  In answer, Mrs. Greene gave Baldwin a peck on the cheek. Then with a smile that said she enjoyed the masquerade, she said, “No one in this town bothers a mother and her daughter taking a walk together.”

  Evarts could see from the distaste on Baldwin’s face that she didn’t appreciate the quip, with her real mother so recently dead. Partly to slide by the moment, Evarts asked, “Can we sit so you can tell us what’s going on?”

  “May I offer you something to drink first?” Mr. Greene said.

  Before Evarts could object, Mrs. Greene said, “A glass of char­donnay, please.” She gave Baldwin one of her innkeeper smiles. “Patricia?”

  “The same, thank you.”

  “Coffee black.” Evarts still felt angry and wanted his wits about him. This wasn’t a social occasion.

  They made small talk as the Greenes prepared the drinks. Then they sat in four opposing easy chairs in a sitting area that had been arranged beside one of the oversized windows. The loft appeared to have one bedroom, one bath, and a great room that served as the kitchen, dining room, living room, and everything else. The furnishings looked new but inexpensive, with more thought to functionality than consistent design. Evarts saw the telltale signs of a safe house rather than a home. He guessed the aristocratic Greenes would prefer a high-end hotel.

  Evarts got right to business. “Why did you say the union isn’t looking for you?”

  Mr. Greene replied, “Because we aren’t part of the Mute Circle within the Shut Mouth Society.”

  “Please explain,” Evarts said impatiently. Benjamin Greene took far too much pleasure in doling out information.

  “The Shut Mouth Society is composed of three degrees. The highest and innermost degree is the Mute Circle, which keeps the Society secrets and makes most of the decisions. There are three voting members in the Mute Circle. The next degree is the Mute Council, which advises the circle and communicates to the rest of the Society. That’s how we keep general members from discovering the identity of circle members.” He looked at his wife. “We’re members of the council.”

  “And the general members?”

  “Their job is to secure positions in government, business, or foundations so they can promote our agenda and advance themselve
s up to council membership.”

  “How many people are in the Society?”

  “Now … only about forty. At the turn of the last century, there were as many as two hundred, but the children lost interest and fell away.”

  “Who are the members of the Mute Circle?” Evarts asked.

  Mrs. Greene answered. “Patricia’s parents, Abraham Douglass, and a fourth person we presume dead.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the union killed the other three.”

  Baldwin interrupted. “Douglass told us he didn’t belong to the Shut Mouth Society.”

  “Members are disciplined to never admit membership.”

  “How did the union discover the identities of the Mute Circle?” Evarts asked.

  “We don’t know,” Mrs. Greene said.

  Evarts knew. The Society had been infiltrated. Which led him to his next question. “How do you know the members of the Mute Circle?”

  “We know only the Baldwins for sure, because they sponsored us into the council and they were our contact with the Mute Circle. Council members never discussed their sponsors, so we don’t know for sure, but … well, Douglass’s death confirmed his standing.” Mr. Greene looked at his wife. “I guess we’re the Mute Circle now, but we never went through the ceremony, so we don’t know the location of the documents. That’s why we’re not hunted.”

  Evarts thought there might be another reason. “Earlier, you said there were three voting members of the Mute Circle, but you listed four people.”

  “Married couples only have one vote between them.” He patted his wife’s knee. “As would we, if we had been elevated as a couple.” The prissy man tried to smile, but it looked more like a smirk to Evarts. “That is, if we’re both alive at the time of our elevation.” He shifted his attention to Baldwin. “Your parents also held the additional honor of being the Keepers.”

  “Meaning the Keepers of the documents?” Evarts asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did the other two members know the hiding place?”

  “No. We were told during our indoctrination that only the Keepers knew.”

  “Sounds risky,” Evarts said.

  “That why the Keeper designation always went to a married couple. It’s worked for a hundred and fifty years.”

  Evarts thought a minute. “Did the Mute Circle recruit new members?”

  “Of course. We all did. Douglass meant to recruit you as his disciple.”

  Evarts had guessed that would be his answer. He contemplated his next move and came to a decision. He leaned forward in the love seat and reached behind him. In a flash, he had his SIG pointed at the Greenes. “Who was the fourth member of the Mute Circle?”

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Greene asked, but his voice remained unconcerned.

  “Please, answer my question. Who was the fourth member of the Mute Circle?”

  “Or what?” Mr. Greene seemed amused.

  Evarts suddenly felt woozy. He glanced at Baldwin and saw her eyes roll up. Damn. They had been drugged.

  He had only seconds. As he leaped from the love seat, Evarts flipped his SIG to hold it by the barrel like a club. With all the strength he could muster, he pistol-whipped Benjamin Greene on the side of the head. Without hesitation, he swung the pistol at Nancy Greene, aiming for her nose. With his last moment of consciousness, he glanced back at Baldwin and saw her head lolling against the back of the easy chair. He meant to go to her but instead collapsed onto the floor.

  Chapter 34

  Evarts felt an awful throbbing in the back of his head. He rolled over onto his back, confused and bewildered. Who hit him? Then he became conscious enough to remember he had been drugged. The Greenes! He bounded up into a sitting position and fell back immediately. He tried again, slower this time. Damn, his head hurt. He suddenly realized he hadn’t yet opened his eyes. Forcing them open, he saw that the Greenes and Baldwin were still unconscious.

  With a determined effort, he picked up his gun and tucked it inside his waistband as he rose up onto wobbly legs. He willed enough concentration to walk to the kitchen to look for something to bind the Greenes. Leaning heavily against the counter, he rummaged through drawer after drawer until he found a roll of duct tape. He returned to the sitting area and gently pushed Benjamin Greene forward, so he could tape his hands together behind his back. When he tried the same thing with Nancy Greene, she slumped forward like a tipped bag of potatoes. Moving around to examine her from the front, he saw that she was dead. He had aimed for her nose, but his disequilibrium caused him to smash her throat and crush her windpipe.

  Before checking on Baldwin, he went into the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet until he found aspirin. He popped four into his mouth and used cupped hands under the faucet to capture some water to wash them down. After he swallowed, he splashed handfuls of water onto his face. He felt only marginally better as he carried the aspirin bottle and a wet washcloth back into the great room.

  Baldwin hadn’t moved. He checked her pulse and sighed in relief when it throbbed with regularity. He laid the cold washcloth across her forehead but did nothing more to revive her. Time would bring her around, and he had things to do that she probably shouldn’t witness.

  He threw the remains of his almost-full cup of coffee and Baldwin’s near-empty wine glass down the kitchen sink, thoroughly washing cup and glass. He searched the inert body of Benjamin Greene and then his dead wife. Other than keys and wallets, he found nothing of interest, not even a cell phone.

  After an unproductive search of the kitchen, he moved to the single bedroom. He discovered a floor safe in the closet, and despite his headache, fumbled around until he found the right key. The safe contained more money and another .45, something the Greenes evidently didn’t feel obliged to carry. He took all the money out to see if it covered any papers but discovered nothing more. Next he searched the pockets of all the suits, pants, and dresses hanging in the closet. Nothing. After a further search of the single bathroom, he decided that anything of interest to their predicament must be hidden in the great room.

  When he returned to the living quarters, he stuffed the brick of currency he’d found into Baldwin’s purse. Then he leaned over to check her breathing and listened for moans or other signs of her coming out of her stupor. She was still out cold.

  Benjamin Greene, on the other hand, had started to revive, but his eyes said he wasn’t quite aware of his surroundings. Evarts pulled over an ottoman and sat directly in front of Greene so that their knees touched. Then he slapped him. Hard. When he saw his eyes show some recognition, he said in a gentle voice, “Tell me about the union.”

  “I know little.” He struggled only momentarily against his bounds.

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  Greene still looked disoriented and didn’t even throw his wife a glance. “They were formed during the Grant administration. At least, that was when they were formally organized along lines similar to today. They actually extend back to before the Civil War, but prior to Grant, they were just people connected because of money interests in the antebellum South: for the most part, New York financiers and big plantation owners.”

  He finally looked over at his spouse. “What’s wrong with my wife?” he asked in a most matter-of-fact tone.

  “She’s dead. How long have you worked for the union?”

  “Pity. She ran the inn fairly well.” His eyes grew steadier. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Because you’d just as soon avoid pain. You’re narcissistic, are you not?”

  “Unrepentantly so, but I don’t believe you’ll harm me.”

  Without preamble, Evarts threw a cushion onto Greene’s lap, pulled out his gun, and using the cushion as a muffle, shot the old man in the fleshy part of the thigh. Before his scream left his throat, Evarts used his hand to cover his mouth and force his head back uncomfortably. “I thought you said you knew all about me.”

  After the old man appeared to rega
in some control, Evarts grabbed the duct tape and made a crude tourniquet. He sat back on the ottoman and stared at Benjamin Greene.

  Breathing hard, Greene wheezed, “Perhaps I underestimated some of your more brutal traits.”

  “That was warm-up. If you’re not going to use that mouth to tell me what I want to know, then I’ll duct tape it and introduce you to serious pain.” When he didn’t respond, Evarts added, “Do you believe me?”

  Greene actually seemed to contemplate the question. Wilting under Evarts’s silence, he said, “I’ve been feeding information to the union for over two years.”

  “How?”

  “Email. I’ve never met anyone in person.”

  “Why?”

  He winced. “In the beginning, because they promised to make room for us in the Mute Circle.”

  “Meaning they would murder the Baldwins?”

  “I prefer to think of it as just arranging their death a bit prematurely. We’d not only be elevated to the Mute Circle but also become the Keepers.”

  Evarts had interrogated dozens of men and women in both the army and the police force. Greene had broken faster than most, but Evarts had only used such drastic tactics once before. That time, the lives of his infiltration team depended on immediate answers. This time, his own life and that of Patricia Baldwin depended on truthful answers, and again he didn’t have time to waste. The preliminary questions confirmed that Greene had broken, so he proceeded to his most urgent question. “How long before the union arrives?”

  Greene looked at a clock on the opposite wall, which partly answered Evarts’s question. “They land in forty-seven minutes.”

  “How long from the airport?”

  “Fifteen minutes. Maybe another fifteen to deplane and exit the airport.”

  Evarts looked at Baldwin. When he turned back, he caught Greene wiping a smirk off his face. “How long will she be out?”

  “Hours. She drank most of her wine.”

  Evarts knew how to accelerate her recovery from the drug, but if he turned his attention to her, he wouldn’t get all the answers he wanted from Greene. He decided to spend fifteen minutes with the old man and then try to revive Baldwin. He calculated that it would be close, but the union men would either be unarmed or delayed because they stopped to pick up weapons en route … unless someone met them at the airport terminal with weapons at the ready. Damn. He had to hurry.