Killing the Giants

by Jeff Bennington

  A stately voice answered, “You only think you are facing obstacles. What you are dealing with, however, is a new agenda, a new reality. There are no obstacles. The deaths at your facilities will soon be buried in the media, glossed over as accidental occurrences. You will remain CEO of PPI, and you will abide by our guidance. Yet, I sense that you’re fearful of what we’re speaking of. Is this true?”

  “Yes. Somewhat.”

  “Do not be afraid,” cried the frail voice. “As long as you abide, you will be protected. But if you veer, if you stray from our path, you will be cut off! Otherwise, all will go well for you. So, do not worry about the explosions and deaths of your employees. We have allowed for casualties. They are to be expected and quite common in this reality. You see, we have many souls who work outside our circle. They are not a part of us, but they serve us. Money goes a long way with those who lack principles and knowledge.”

  Laughter filled the room, echoing through the wooden cave. Jonathan was troubled by Caesar’s demands, but he played along. He continued to ask questions about the club and what was expected of him. Although he was afraid of their seeming absolute power, he kept his reservations to himself.

  When Jonathan was finished in the confessional, he and Thomas left The Palace. Each returned to their homes and families as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But inside, Jonathan felt his world crumbling beneath his feet.

  Chapter 10

  C-4

  Grande Isle Pier, 8:00 a.m.

  Sarah and Tim met in the parking lot and walked toward the pier. Sarah felt hungover from the night before but still had a job to do. She told Tim about Gill, the young lady in the pier office, and the reports from other eyewitnesses she spoke with. Sarah then pulled out her binoculars so they could have a look at the rig.

  “If you look at the rig, you can see how the explosion made an impact on the loading station. Do you see how mangled the stair rail is as a result of the explosion?” She handed the binoculars to Tim.

  He grabbed the instrument and put it to his eyes. “Yes, I see it. We need to verify that it’s a result of the explosion. Should be simple enough. But I can tell you right now, a gas explosion wouldn’t do that kind of damage if the gas tank was sitting right there on the steps.”

  “That’s what I thought,” admitted Sarah. “We can take a look at that in a few minutes. For now, let me show you what I found when I was talking to the young woman in the pier office.”

  Sarah and Tim walked toward the office. As they got closer to the building, Tim noticed something strange. His keen vision caught a glimpse of someone looking out of the office-window blinds.

  Tim nonchalantly said, “Sarah. Stop and look out at the ship for a second. Act like nothing’s wrong.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?” she asked as she stared out at the debilitated ferry.

  “Someone’s in the office. Whoever it is, they’re peeking through the window blinds…spying on us. Does anyone know that we’re coming?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” She put the binoculars to her eyes, and looked at the office. At that moment, the guilty party quickly let go of the blinds, apparently aware that Sarah was watching. After catching a glimpse of the perpetrator, Sarah yelled, “Oh my God, Tim! We better take cover! He looks dangerous.”

  “Are you serious?” Tim reached into his shoulder holster and grabbed his LTC 9mm.

  “Yeah. You flank right. I’ll try to distract him!” Sarah tried to contain her grin.

  “Ten-four. Go, go, go!” Tim shouted as he began to run.

  Sarah couldn’t take it anymore. She busted out laughing.

  “Oh my God, Tim! I can’t believe you fell for that!”

  “What?” Tim responded irritably.

  “Yeah, it’s the fish-man!” She continued laughing. “Oh that’s funny. It’s just Gill, you idiot!” Sarah smacked Tim on the shoulder as she pressed on. Tim sheepishly followed Sarah’s lead, shaking his head.

  “Gill? Gill, are you in there?” asked Sarah, looking through the office windows. “Gill, it’s okay. You can come out. It’s me Sarah. And I brought a friend. He won’t hurt you. He’s an idiot!” Sarah laughed again and immediately got serious. “Gill? Do remember me? We met on the dock the other day?” She could hear footsteps and furniture sliding.

  “I’m coming in, Gill. You don’t have to be afraid.” Sarah opened the door and walked inside.

  Gill stood behind a coatrack, hiding and shaking nervously. Sarah took slow steps toward her new friend. His work clothes were dirty and smelled like fishy water. Thin blades of light found their way through the blinds into the otherwise dark room. Gill stood in silence, frantically clenching something in his hands. His fingers looked disfigured, as if they had suffered some form of paralysis. In his shame, he tried to hide whatever it was he was holding and began crying and mumbling to himself.

  “Is something wrong, Gill?” asked Sarah.

  “Hmm…hmm…hmm.”

  Sarah approached Gill and gently put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Gill.” His body jerked when she touched him, revealing the gun in his hands—a Smith & Wesson.38 Special. She looked at Tim. His eyes widened. Sarah reached toward Gill and gently placed her fingers on the weapon.

  “Gill, what are you doing with the gun?”

  He stared and continued mumbling.

  She clutched the gun and slowly pulled it out of his fingers.

  Gill appeared to be in a trance. Sarah leaned close to his face and noticed the blood dripping from his forehead.

  “Sarah,” said Tim. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  Sarah took her eyes off Gill. “Believe what?”

  “Over there…” He pointed into the shadows across the room.

  “Oh my God! It’s the young woman I was telling you about!”

  “I think she’s dead!” said Tim. He walked toward the woman and put his finger on her neck to check for a pulse. “Nothing.”

  Sarah turned back to Gill. He stood there looking at the young woman shaking his head from side to side, tears falling from his cheeks.

  “Ginger!” Gill stared at the dead woman in horror. “GINGER!” he screamed even louder as he stood there obsessively shaking his head. “He kilt her…” Breathing irregularly, sniffing, he wiped his tears away. “He…he…he kilt Ginger!”

  “Who killed her, Gill?” asked Tim.

  “I don’t know him,” said Gill as he pointed at Tim.

  “You don’t know who?” asked Tim.

  “He’s talking about you, Tim,” said Sarah. She turned toward Gill. “That’s Tim. He’s my friend. You can trust him. He won’t hurt you.”

  Gill’s mouth opened slowly and his hands acted out the events. “A…man, he came in here this mornin’…and…and kilt her…and put that gun in my hand.” Gill nervously gripped his shirt, twisting it through his fingers.

  “He said if I tell anybody ’bout what he done…he’d…he’d blow my head off like he done Ginger! And he cussed me…and beat me…until I said ‘Yes, sir.’” Gill resumed crying, shoulders shaking.

  Sarah put her arm around Gill and turned toward Tim. “Call 9-1-1! We’ve got to notify the authorities now!” Sarah led Gill to a chair nearby.

  “Gill, just sit down and relax. We’re going to get that guy. But for now, we’ve got to make sure you get out of here safely.” Sarah began to formulate a plan to get Gill out of the office in case the murderer was still out there watching. She peered through the window but they didn’t see anyone.

  While they waited for the police to arrive, Sarah and Tim looked over the sketch on the window that Ginger had drawn a couple days earlier. Tim measured the sketch and performed a few geometric calculations. According to his figures, the explosion could not have been the result of a gas ignition.

  “Sarah, look at this. If you do the math according to Ginger’s scale, the explosive burst would have expanded at least 250 feet in the air. A gas fire wouldn’t punch out that far. That�
��s the kind of range you’d expect from ammonium nitrate or C-4. And didn’t you say the eyewitnesses saw a flash of light followed by a bright ball?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well you and I both know that a gas fire would’ve put off a large black cloud of smoke. So, that means that the original report is 100 percent false. And that means that Gill and Ginger here were both threats to that theory. It’s no wonder Ginger’s dead. And by the looks of things, someone’s trying to frame Gill for everything. If I could inspect that ferry, I’m sure I’d find evidence of an improvised explosive devise…possibly a C-4 with a RDX priming charge…most likely used with a remote.”

  Sarah grinned. “That’s why I called you! Whoever killed Ginger is probably trying to pin Gill as some kind of psycho.”

  • • •

  Minutes later, the county sheriff and ambulance showed up, sirens blaring, lights spinning.

  “Great! They’re coming,” said Sarah, peering through a window. “Now we can get Gill out of here. And hopefully, if the killer’s out there, he’ll think we’re arresting him.”

  Gill shuttered. He began to mumble again. Sarah reassured him that they were there to protect him.

  When the sheriff pulled up to the pier, Sarah and Tim walked out of the office to give him an update on what had just transpired. The sheriff stepped out his vehicle and his dark raisins for eyes studied the scene intently. He was six foot three and very muscular. He pulled a pair of aviator glasses out of his front pocket and slipped them on his face.

  Sarah walked up to him, shook his hand and introduced Tim. She told the sheriff about Ginger, Gill, and their theory on the explosion. She also told him about the killer, and their idea to protect Gill.

  Sarah convinced Gill to let her handcuff him, to pretend that he was under arrest. She led him into the squad car, opened the back door and pushed his head down as he entered the backseat. Then she closed the door.

  The sheriff smiled at Sarah and stuffed a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. His glasses shimmered in the light.

  “Good work, Ms. Perkins.” His lower lip bulged from the tobacco.

  Sarah’s eyes bent curiously.

  “You don’t know how much this is gonna mean to this here community.”

  “What?” said Sarah. “He’s innocent!”

  “Now, Ms. Perkins, you don’t really believe that, do you? We’ll go easy on him.”

  “I don’t think you understand!” She pointed at Gill. “He did not do this! He’s being framed. I told you that!”

  “Come on, Ms. Perkins. You’ve got to understand that these folks need closure. They need somewhere to direct their anger and rage. And so far, I’ve got a leaky gas line, and now this. Of course, we’ll want to check the gun here for prints but, uh…it ain’t looking good for old Gill. He’s been a good friend ’round here, but we all know good and well that he’s a little…” The sheriff circled his index finger near his head. “Well, you know…crazy. You can see that as well as I can.” He opened the driver’s door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, one of my deputies will take your statement.” The sheriff tipped his hat and said, “Good day, ma’am.”

  “Sheriff, wait! I don’t think—”

  “Good day, ma’am!” The sheriff stepped into his car and drove away.

  Sarah didn’t know Gill like the rest of the townspeople, but she had pretty good discernment when it came to a person’s character, and she knew Gill was no killer.

  Chapter 11

  Oxygen

  One week later in Chapleaux

  The mountain air blew across the cemetery as it tossed golden and ruby-red leaves to and fro until each one found its final resting place. Yet the rays of sunlight that glistened in the treetops fell cold from the north wind and from the sights and sounds of death. It seemed as if sadness and hate radiated back to the heavens as hundreds of half-living souls shuffled their feet into the burial ground. They moved from their cars, into the well-nourished grass of Saint Martha’s Cemetery, just outside of Chapleaux.

  The Scottish Rite blew a dirge on the bagpipes and the drummers played a cadence that ushered the dead of Chapleaux’s family members to their final resting place. As the wind whistled, one could almost feel the life from that small town blow away with it, rising up and away, never to return. The spouses, children, lovers and friends that completed and complemented the survivors were snuffed out, leaving them empty and hollow. There were no celebrations of heavenly rest. The survivors could not be consoled, because everyone from Chapleaux was in mourning.

  Blake Driscole led the procession of caskets along with Gail Skinner and Dennis. Blake was eager to get it over with. He always hated funerals and weddings. The formalities always distracted him. This case was no different. He had lost his wife Penny and his two daughters, Kiley and Katie. He’d spent twenty years working from rig to rig for PPI to raise his girls and provide for his family. Now, everything he had worked for was gone. Blake was drowning in bitterness and despised the fact that he had to listen to a preacher attempt to bring him comfort, when in truth, he wanted to grab God by the throat and demand the return of his family. Too focused on revenge, Blake never shed a tear.

  • • •

  Dennis was lost without Blake, and he was lost without his girlfriend Kimberly Cane. She died in her apartment from severe burns and smoke inhalation. For the last week, Dennis remained locked up in his trailer without saying a word. He never received the first word of comfort from anyone. He did not have a family, and Blake was unresponsive. He was longing for the preacher to speak words of encouragement. He was hoping for restoration, direction and answers. Dennis was hopelessly walking toward something he would never receive. His cheeks were reddened and damp from a continuous flow of tears.

  • • •

  Sarah Perkins stood in the back of the crowd and observed the mood and tone of the dispirited survivors. She took note of their resentful demeanor. She sensed their anger and hopelessness. She was sent to Chapleaux as an extension of her investigation in Grande Isle, because of the timing and circumstances surrounding PPI. In light of the local sentiment in Grande Isle, Sarah assumed a similar attitude of distrust embodied the Canadian community as well.

  The bagpipes stopped playing, and the drums stopped beating as the priest began his eulogy with a Scottish accent.

  “Dearly beloved, we’re here today to celebrate the lives of so many loved ones from our community. We come before God our Father to release their spirits into His eternal care…into His eternal presence. For we come into this world with nothing and we shall leave with nothing. Our riches coming only from the memories that we accumulate, and our wealth only from the love we share with those we hold dear. Let us now pray as we call upon the Lord to comfort and console us in this dark and dreary hour.

  “Dear Father in Heaven, we seek you, and we need you today. For where else might we find comfort? Where shall we find understanding? In whom shall we find counsel? Lord, we know that in this world we will have trouble. Yet you have told us to take heart, because you have overcome the world. And so, with a childlike faith we have no other choice but to come to you…to seek your face.

  “Oh God, we beseech your wisdom. We beseech your counsel. We beseech your knowledge beyond our understanding, as we try to make sense of these tragic events! We call upon you, oh Lord, to work in the lives of these families and friends that gather here as they remember their loved ones. Give them peace, as we remember each one.

  “We remember Gladys Anderson, Tonya Boyd, Jeremy Boyd, Kimberly Cane, Penny Driscole, Katie Driscole, Kiley Driscole, Jim Day and…”

  On and on he went. The priest spoke the names of 385 souls, all killed in the massive explosion that brought Chapleaux to the ground. Never had Chapleaux been filled with so many tears and cries of mourning at one time. You could barely hear the priest over the tears and crying that rightfully took place. It was a heartrending day. Sarah left with the crowd.

  • • •

  Late
r that day, Sarah met up with the local fire marshal at the local fire station. The spry gentleman introduced himself upon her arrival.

  “Hello, Ms. Perkins!”

  “Hi,” Sarah answered.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Frank Dijon, fire marshal extraordinaire! And I have the worst job in the world right now, as you can imagine. The constable said you would be coming, so I made arrangements for us to go over some of the key locations and evidence that we have to work with. And frankly, I want to get moving on this investigation. I want answers. The whole town wants answers.”

  “I understand. What’ve you got so far?”

  “Well…we have hearsay, and we have some substantial evidence. Which do you prefer to go over first?”

  Sarah pulled her hair away from her face. “Hearsay.”

  “Okay. First of all, the word that has been circulating is that this was some kind of accident. The word is the driver lost control of his vehicle and crashed into the metering station. On the surface, it appears to be a standard case of driving while intoxicated. I don’t know how that rumor got started, because I never said that. I called the TV station to tell them that I never said it, but they haven’t returned my calls. So, for starters, that’s got me really pissed, because now everyone is starting to believe that bullshit!

  “Even if that story is true, there’s a problem. We can’t identify the driver and the autopsy shows no sign of alcohol, drugs or any other source of illegal substance. It seems that the driver, whoever he was, was perfectly fit and died upon impact. So, how does that happen?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Sarah. “Maybe he fell asleep behind the wheel?”

  “Good observation. The problem with that is I have a witness that claims the man had just gassed up his vehicle and was driving out of town. I don’t think he could fall asleep inside of two minutes, do you?” Frank questioned.