A Shadow of Death in The Woods

by Albert Sisson

  Mike offered that he knew how to clean them and said he would do it. Goodbye any blood spots big or microscopic.

  I wondered, if the scene looked like a murder-suicide, why all the care now since presumably we would not be suspected. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. These guys knew what they were doing. They had backup plans for backup plans.

  Bob looked tough as nails and I had a hard time imagining him calling his mother for meals but stranger things have happened. But by listening to the banter, I was able to deduce that Momma was a good friend who owned a restaurant in a nearby city and not his mother.

  No one spoke to me. I had the feeling that I was like the odd cousin who came to Thanksgiving dinner and no one knew what to say to him. There was light talk and banter but under it all ran a thick tension. Everyone had a serious demeanor with a thin layer of levity spread on top.

  Paul came into the room with a checklist. He was a planner and had made a list of things that needed to be done. We went over the list and everything had been done except one or two items, which we then took care of and the list was destroyed. One thing I was seeing was that the men in this group checked everything twice and then double-checked each other with no recriminations. It looked almost rehearsed, like these guys had done this before.

  I heard a car and a few minutes later I heard someone say Momma was here. Momma started putting together dinner. Not exactly being included in the conversations, I wandered out to the kitchen to see if I could help Momma and at the same time distract myself from my worries. Gourmet cooking, or what I like to call good cooking, is a hobby of mine. I didn’t think we were going to have a gourmet dinner but good cooking is good cooking.

  Momma was a middle-aged woman who was accustomed to hard work. I introduced myself and offered to help. She probably didn’t want another cook in the kitchen so she suggested that I set the table. I asked her for how many and she looked at me like I was addled. She replied that she was cooking for seven so unless I had knew something she didn’t know, I should set the table for seven. Actually I knew something that she probably didn’t know. At some point there was a good chance that there was going to be only six in the group. I figured I would take the optimist’s view and I set the table for seven. It made sense that they would feed me before killing me. You always want your victim to be relaxed and unsuspecting.

  When I first came to The Cabin, I estimated my chances of survival at fifty-fifty but after meeting Mike I was not so sure. I fully believed Mike could kill without remorse and perhaps enjoy it. I thought, I’m down to thirty or forty percent survival. I thought about my wife, Kat, and our two children and became sad. We all know we are going to die sometime but when you realize that it is going to be in the next few hours, it moves from being an abstract future thing to an ugly reality. A wave of guilt washed over me. Why had I been so selfish in taking a bike trip and, now, not returning? I wished that I had kissed them all one more time before I left the house. Life can be shorter than you think. I was only thirty-two years old. C’est la vie.

  Chapter 2

  The Cabin

  As Bob came into the kitchen, he said, “Hey, Momma, you got this man working for you? I need him. I want to give him a tour of The Cabin. Come with me, Jack.”

  He took me on a sweep of the first floor, which opened onto a stone patio made of West Virginia split stone. There were tables and chairs as well as lounge chairs. There was limited sun because the second story balcony and trees shaded part of the patio. Other parts were open to the sun so a person could move in and out of the sun at will. On one end near the kitchen was a huge masonry gas grill made from matching West Virginia stone. Adjacent to the patio was a green lawn. Beyond was a wooded area that went down a slope. There was a lake at the bottom of the slope which Bob said could be seen better from the second story.

  Adjacent to the dining room was a huge room with a large wet bar and on the other wall a large stone fireplace also made from split stone. There were leather covered easy chairs and sofas arranged to divide the room into smaller, intimate areas centered around heavy, wooden coffee tables. The ceiling was supported by beautiful laminated beams. In one corner was a large selection of books. I glanced at some of the titles and was surprised. There were books by most of the major philosophers, popular science writers, biographies and history books. In one section was a collection of novels written by authors of formal literature. Whoever put this room together was an intellectual who enjoyed the mountains.

  Bob noticed me looking at the books and asked, “Are you a reader?”

  I told him I was a reader with a strong interest in both quantum physics and astrophysics as well as history. He seemed interested in this and told me that he wanted to have more of an education but family business had interfered. He said he had libraries scattered about so he could read if he felt like it and had time. He said that this was his largest library and he liked to spend time at The Cabin reading. Sometimes he hired tutors to help him with specialized material. He said maybe we could get together sometime when we had more time and debate ideas. I told him I would love that. Unsaid was that I would love almost anything where I was still alive.

  Bob went over to the bar and selected a bottle. “See this? I am proud of this stuff. I make it. It is apple brandy. After dinner we will have some. We can drink plenty of it. I make it by the barrel. We will all stay here tonight so no one has to drive after drinking. Let’s go upstairs.”

  We went back into an open common area to a set of stairs that curved around and went to the second level. At the top was a long hallway that ran parallel to the driveway. Going off the hallway were the entrances to several apartments. One was a huge apartment where Jane had taken her shower. Bob said that he and Jane sometimes came here and stayed a few days. He took me through it. It was beautiful with a living room with a wet bar, a nice-size kitchen, two large bathrooms, one with a shower and one with a tub-shower combination, a huge bedroom with a king-size bed, a smaller bedroom with a queen-size bed and a room that Bob used as a study. My first apartment would have fit in his master bedroom. I think maybe he noticed my mouth hanging open because he interjected that his company owned The Cabin and they often used it for business purposes. I found out later from Jane that yes, his business owned The Cabin, but he and his family owned the business.

  On the second story was a balcony running along the front of The Cabin. We stepped out on it and I could see the lake. It was a man-made lake but large enough for boats. I could see a boat dock with a pontoon boat and some smaller boats tied to the dock. Bob said that he kept it as a nature preserve and as such he didn’t allow fast or noisy boats. They had power boats but they were pontoon boats for floating, chatting and having a few beers, wine or maybe apple brandy.

  Back inside he said, “The other apartments are more or less like the apartment where you took your shower tonight. There is an elevator that goes down near the kitchen. We’ll take it down to the kitchen, pick up Mike and Paul and then tour the basement. I think you’ll get a bang out of the basement.”

  Goose bumps swept over my body when he said I might get a bang in the basement. Why was he bringing Mike and Paul into the tour now? I felt that this was going to be my last elevator trip.

  On the way to the elevator we passed the last apartment on the row and Bob mentioned that it was Lydia’s apartment. He said that no one ever goes in there except Lydia. He said it like it was something that I should remember but he said no more. And, frankly, I had other things on my mind at that point.

  The elevator opened into a hallway near the kitchen. The elevator could be used to carry heavy groceries from the parking lot or bring up things from the basement. Also The Cabin was used for business purposes so having it handicap friendly was useful as well as required by law. A narrow stairway went down near the elevator in case the elevator failed. Also the second floor was level with the parking lot so people could exit or enter The Cabin from there.

  We we
nt into the kitchen where Bob got on the intercom and asked Paul and Mike to join us. The four of us crowded into the elevator and took it down to a wide-open room filled with workout equipment. Bob said that he originally wanted the gym on the first floor with large windows looking out into the valley but the architect couldn’t make it work with all the other requirements so he had a wall screen installed that showed any scene of your choosing to make your workout more pleasant. Included in the repertoire of scenery were live camera feeds from the front of The Cabin looking down to the lake. It made the wall look like a window. It took several cameras and a pile of money to make it work.

  In the back was a heavy door with a combination lock, an electronic pad to read finger prints and a camera to scan your iris. Serious security. Bob opened the door. Inside was a medium-size room with a huge walk-in gun safe which Bob opened. It was full of guns and ammunition.

  We were underground, somewhere under the parking lot. It was sound proof. I think that the blood must have drained out of my face when it occurred to me that this was the perfect place to execute me.

  Bob pulled out a handgun and asked me if I was a shooter. My mouth was so dry I could barely squeak out an answer. Yes, I was a shooter but I didn’t currently own any guns. He popped the empty clip out of the pistol and slid the slide back so I could see it wasn’t loaded. He gave it to me to examine. Maybe some color came back to my face but if so, it was only temporary because I could see boxes of shells. It wouldn’t take long to load a pistol. I thought I could see an increased interest in Mike’s face. It would be a classic move to show me an unloaded gun to relax me while someone sneaked up behind and put one behind my ear.

  Bob put the pistol back and showed me the rifles and shotguns, explaining that he had a shooting range on the property for shotguns (skeet, trap and sporting clays), rifles (long distance) and a pistol range. He said the local police used his range for practice, which helped make good relations with the police. It increased security too, having police cars coming and going.

  He then relocked the gun safe. I imagined that they all heard me sigh a sigh of relief when I realized that I was going to live to at least dinner.

  We went past the gun room to another door, which he opened. It led down a hallway deeper underground to a large room. The room was cool and full of racks of bottled wine. Bob said, “Okay. What wine do you guys want with dinner?”

  He turned to me expecting an answer. I said that I was partial to a Riesling. He looked at me with an accusatory look and said, “You know we are having filet mignon for dinner, right?”

  I said, “Yes, but I still liked a Riesling.” I told him I was sorry. I knew you were supposed to have red wine with red meat but filet mignon is a lighter, finer red meat and besides I didn’t like red wine that much but loved Riesling.

  He laughed and said that I could have what I wanted and he had several good Rieslings. We selected one from Austria. The other guys selected the more appropriate red wines, three bottles of which were Malbec grape wines from Argentina. We had eight bottles of wine for the seven of us. We carried the wine, two bottles for each person but there was a dumbwaiter that we could have used to hoist wine to the first floor.

  I remembered that Bob said we were going to drink a lot of his apple brandy. I thought if I didn’t get shot maybe I would be poisoned with alcohol. There is more than one way of killing a person.

  I thought about that and wondered if it would be very smart of me to drink much. Survival might pivot on having a clear head although it wasn’t obvious to me. They had me out numbered and they didn’t have to kill me in The Cabin. This crew knew my license registration number and could track down my home address in a matter of minutes. I had nothing to hide so I didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing. Honesty was the best policy here. So maybe I should relax and enjoy my last hours on earth.

  Back upstairs Momma asked if we were ready for dinner because dinner was ready for us. I hung back, waiting for Bob or someone to indicate where I should sit. Mike grabbed my arm and led me to a chair directly across from Frankie. He sat next to Frankie. I thought great, with this beauty sitting across from me, it is only a matter of time before my tongue hangs out or something, Mike takes offense and boom, I am history. But then I was probably history anyway.

  To every bad situation there is a brighter side. Maybe I would offend Mike and get killed but in the meantime I could enjoy her beauty. I decided to enjoy myself.

  Jane spoke up and broke me out of my reverie by saying, “Oh, good we have a Riesling wine.”

  Bob said she couldn’t have any because I selected it. Besides we were having beef for dinner. Aiming for any happy points I could get, I told her she was welcome to the white wine. Bob laughed. I could tell that it didn’t matter a lot what Bob said about the wine. If Jane wanted to drink white wine, then white wine it was even if he had to go back to the wine cellar and get a bottle.

  The steaks were cooked to perfection and served with buttered mashed potatoes and white asparagus with a delicious sauce. The asparagus was not over- or undercooked, and it was tender, not tough as it often is in restaurants. Momma had done a great job. The food was wonderful.

  Encouraged by the others I tried some of the Malbec grape wine and found much to my surprise that I loved it.

  After dinner we adjourned to the library for brandy. Here my interrogation got underway with everyone asking me questions about where I lived, what I did for a living, what my hobbies were, what my family was like, etc. I felt grilled. Turn me over. I’m done.

  I told them that I had a wife named Katherine whom I called Kat, two kids named Will, seven, and and Laura, five. The kids were actually step-kids but I loved them as if they were my own and had adopted them. I worked in a medium-size company as an accountant but my real love was quantum physics and astrophysics and I liked to read history. I had a Harley-powered bike which I had built and I rode for relaxation as I was doing when I ran across Bob and Jane.

  Right away Bob wanted to know if I was a CPA. I told him I was but it didn’t help me much in my company. I thought it was odd that he had such a strong interest in my being a CPA. He asked a lot of questions about my job.

  Other than the persistent grilling, it was a pleasant evening. Especially with Bob’s apple brandy. It had been made with a handed-down family yeast and aged in new, charred oak barrels. It had a dark amber color and was layered with many aromas and flavors. You could roll it over your tongue and tease out flavor after flavor. It was smooth without the harshness you often find in a brandy. It warmed your stomach and maybe your soul. It made the world seem better.

  I was feeling better and better about my situation when I realized that I was stewed. I needed to cut back while I could still walk to a bed if it wasn’t already too late. Normally I was too big to be carried to bed but if a group could carry me it was this group. Even the women looked fit and strong. Still I would rather go to bed under my own power.

  Everyone was laughing and having a good time, creating a much happier atmosphere than earlier in the day so I wasn’t the only one who had been drinking a lot. As the party wound down, from time to time people started eying their watches until Bob said maybe it was time to go to bed; at least it was time for him and he got up, stretching. He was a little unsteady on is feet.

  He turned to me and said, “It has been a busy day and I haven’t said some things that should be said. Jack, Jane and I want to thank you for saving our lives today. Without your intervention, our children would be orphans and probably our business lost. There is no way we can properly thank you but please know we are forever in your debt and any time you need help, we are at your service with everything we possess.”

  It was a touching speech. I didn’t know exactly what to make of it. I was still of the mind set that I would most likely not leave West Virginia alive. Bob seemed sincere. Yes, he had been drinking a lot but he didn’t have to make such a specific promise. Maybe I would live. Or maybe he just wanted
me to believe I was going to live so I would sleep well. Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knew but he was long gone.

  We all got up to go to bed, following Bob’s example. Bob was the alpha dog. I felt mellow but still wondered what the morrow would bring.

  Chapter 3

  Mike and Frankie Randall

  Mike thought, ah crap, what a predicament. They should have killed this stranger right away but they hadn’t, and now it had gotten complicated. Paul wanted to have the stranger stay in a motel fifty miles away to disassociate him with The Cabin so it would be safer to kill him but Bob didn’t want to do that. Bob argued that we should keep him close until we knew more and we could spend the evening pumping the guy for information.

  Mike agreed with Bob’s argument but that meant they couldn’t kill him at The Cabin because the authorities would pick up on the fact that this was the last place he was seen alive if there ever was an investigation. Momma had seen the stranger at The Cabin and she wasn’t in The Club.

  It would have been better to have killed him right away. Well, water over the dam and all that. Mike could see that Bob didn’t want to kill the stranger but he was biased and not being rational. After all the stranger did save his life and Jane’s life. There was something to be said for that. The stranger didn’t have to go out of his way to help Bob and Jane. He could have ridden by, ignoring the signs or more likely, like the average person, not have noticed something was wrong. This made the stranger unusual.

  Mike knew how it felt to have your life saved. Both he and Paul would be dead and their bodies left in Africa if it had not been for Bob. They were in a black ops mission that went seriously wrong. A third of the team was killed and both he and Paul were taken prisoners by a group that didn’t believe in keeping prisoners alive long. Bob had corralled the remaining team members and attacked the bad guys. The bad guys were so convinced that the ops team was beaten that it didn’t occur to them that there might be a counterattack. The surprise was enough to give the ops team an edge and they escaped. It was a nightmare and the only thing that counted that night was survival. Mike owed Bob his life. That was a debt and a bond, a lifetime bond.