Devil's Den

by Jeff Altabef

  Tina calls out names of obvious porn sites as she sorts through Brad’s search history. “Women who love tubby men, Penislandia, Pussy Parade, wait...here’s something, Swap Market. Could be another porn place, but let’s check it out.”

  She clicks on the link and it’s a generic site with general categories of used stuff that’s for sale or available for barter.

  “Bingo,” says Tina.

  Kate points to the screen. “They have transportation. Maybe bikes are covered there?”

  Tina works some magic, and we find an entry from a user named The Farm. The message is different from what I expected. Instead of using the code we found, it simply says, “Looking for a special bike we’ve had our eye on for years.”

  Tina clicks on the conversation and finds Sam Steele’s response. “I have what you want.” He attached a file to his message.

  “What the fuck?” Tina says, when she opens the file. Megan’s picture pops up, plus general information about her: her schedule, her best friends, the apartment address, work schedule, grade transcripts, IQ test, etc. “Brad’s been watching her.”

  “Makes sense,” I say. “He’d need to give these people some basic info for them to start surveillance, but—”

  Kate says, “But why does the message ask for a special bike? There’s nothing in the code about a special bike. How did Brad know they wanted Megan?”

  The truth hits me hard. From the looks on Tina and Kate’s faces they realize the same thing, but I’m the one to verbalize it. “Megan must be special to them. They must have known about her for some time. Tina, go back, and let’s see any other communications between Brad and The Farm.”

  The site keeps all the communications for six months. After that, they delete them. We find three other messages between Brad as Sam Steele and the mysterious cult named The Farm. All the others use the code.

  Everything looks predictable, with Brad sending The Farm a file just a few days after their first inquiry. Megan’s file is the only outlier. It can’t be a coincidence. This puzzle becomes more complicated. More pieces are in play than I thought.

  “Let’s post a message on the site for The Farm,” I suggest. “We need something they might respond to so we can set up a meeting.”

  “I’ve got it.” Tina types a simple post. “I’ve just discovered that one of the bicycles I’ve sent to The Farm has faulty brakes. Please respond, so I can fix them.”

  “That should get their attention,” I say. “Hopefully, they’ll answer using the chat site. It’s worth a try.”

  Kate nods, and Tina sends it as Sam Steele.

  We stare at the screen for a few minutes hoping for an immediate reply, which is silly. It’s late and who knows how frequently they monitor the website? They might not look at it unless they want a new girl, which means we’ll be shit out of luck.

  After a long stretch, Tina starts to rifle through the computer, which lasts hours. She finds nothing else of value. My eyes hurt when she finishes. She copies whatever looks remotely interesting on a flash drive and we shut down the tablet.

  Kate looks wiped, and I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in two days and the voices in my head are growing more numerous and louder. They want me to go out, prowl the streets, look for sinners to punish. It’s stupid. I need to take some of my pills to quiet them and get a few hours of shuteye.

  Tina suggests that we stop for the night and re-group in the morning.

  I’m grateful she said it and try to end the night on a positive note “We’ve got some leads. I’ll see if Mary can find a file on this Farm in the morning. A few hours’ rest will do us good.”

  Kate and Tina disappear into Kate’s bedroom. Megan’s room is open, but I don’t go in. That’s her room. So, I take three of my sleeping pills and curl up on the couch, hoping for a little sleep. The doc told me never to take more than two, but two won’t stop my racing mind tonight.

  I lie quietly and wait for the darkness. Eventually it takes me. Unfortunately, I start to dream. Dreams never work out for me. Happy endings don’t exist in my subconscious.

  This one starts out in Brad’s apartment. He screams when I saw off his ear and then his face morphs into that of Father Paul. The priest looks disappointed, and I bolt upward, breathing heavy, sweat coating my shirt.

  It’s still dark out. I check my watch. I got three hours of sleep, which isn’t bad for me. Kate’s tablet is on the table, so I open it and check the swap site for a response from The Farm.

  Nothing yet.

  I look over Megan’s file Brad sent to The Farm. She’s clearly an exceptional girl. When I leaf through her personal records, my heart skips a beat. Under father, they list Ethan, yet there’s no other information about him. Just the first name.

  It’s probably not important, but shouldn’t the school have his last name on file?

  Ivy forces herself to regulate her breathing. At least no one else is in her office with her. She twists her hand on the ultra-thin phone and does her best to keep her voice even, although her patience is stretched to the breaking point. Trevor is a dope, but she needs him for a while longer and can’t cross him just yet. “I know this is a setback. The process isn’t foolproof. We’ve lost candidates before. You know that. It can’t be helped. Sometimes the process doesn’t take.”

  “We have one week! Our most important client is waiting. I’ve assured him we’re on track. I can’t go back and delay him now. The consequences will be catastrophic.”

  “We have to stay flexible. I’ll talk to him and smooth it over.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. You’re not to contact him. You know how he feels about you. He’ll kill us both.”

  Trevor has a point. This client has no imagination and a quick temper. Ivy races through all the possible options and finds nothing appealing. She’s left with only one, and a most disagreeable one at that.

  She sighs. “I’ve identified a promising new candidate. One week will be tight to work her through the system. I’ll have to expedite everything, and it might not take. If you give me another two weeks, I can make sure we follow the best protocols and it’ll be safer for her, and us. The extra time will—”

  “We don’t have more time. Wait, let me clarify that—you don’t have more time! We’re making this delivery in one week, or I’ll replace you permanently. Am I clear? I can find another Mother for my Angels. This is your screw up. Get it done!” He disconnects the call.

  Idiot! Just a few months more and she can do away with him. She’ll stab him in the heart and send him to a fire-filled pit where demons will claw at his body for eternity. She’s seen the vision. Trevor’s future isn’t bright, but she still needs more time to change the world forever. Change it for the better. Change it the way He demands.

  Ivy reluctantly reviews Megan’s file on her tablet. She has big plans for the girl, and now this mess will delay them. She’ll personally supervise the girl’s initiation. Even then, the risks are great. If there was another way, she’d take it, but she can’t remove Trevor yet. She’ll have to make certain sacrifices for His plan, and besides, it’ll be a short-term loan only. Once she starts her plan, she’ll find a way to recall Megan—two months tops.

  Someone knocks on her office door. “Enter!”

  Buck and Frankie stroll into the room. Frankie has proven himself capable, but Buck is a born leader. Although he only joined her flock three months ago, she installed him as head of security, an easy decision.

  “We have June locked in a confessional,” says Buck.

  Ivy removes the pendant from inside her jumpsuit and gently presses it against her lips. She makes a show of it, so Buck and Frankie mimic her.

  “Such a pity the Dark One corrupted our fair June. She was an innocent, spoiled by his evil intentions. More proof that we must stay ever observant. We are at war. Good and evil, fighting among us. Only through vigilance will we prevail.”

  Both acolytes speak at the same time. “Yes, Mother. Vigilance in all matte
rs!”

  “Where did you find her?” asks Ivy.

  “She had slipped through the cow pasture and was headed to the highway,” says Frankie. “We grabbed her before she reached the road. No one noticed.”

  “Well, gentlemen. You know what we do with those who become corrupted by the Devil.”

  Buck asks, “Shall we do it now?”

  The sky outside her window has lightened from its darkest moment, and dawn is just about to break. “Not now. Build the cross and get the pyre ready during the day. I want everyone to watch her burn. The whole community needs to see what happens if someone turns from the light. It’s regrettable, but June’s screams will serve as a reminder for everyone.”

  I run through some simple stretching exercises to keep my muscles loose and responsive, as the light spills over the horizon. Extensive internet searches didn’t reveal anything useful on a cult named The Farm. At least the pendant symbol with the cross makes more sense now. Cults like symbols, and the cross in a star seems like something a cult might use. It feels like an important piece to the puzzle. I just don’t know why yet or how it’ll lead me to Megan.

  Kate’s bedroom door opens, and Tina steps out. She looks like a lioness, hair a crazy tangle behind her as she stalks toward me. She crosses her arms over her chest, and her eyes burn with the anticipation of an easy kill. I’ve faced more than my share of terrifying people in the past, but she scares me.

  “Expecting someone else, Stevo?”

  “Hoping is more like it.”

  “Let’s talk.”

  I’d rather stick red-hot needles in my eyes than talk to Tina right now, but I have no choice. She isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I. At least, not until we find Megan. Eventually she’ll corner me, so now’s as good a time as any to talk.

  “Listen, Tina, I just don’t like you that way. You’re sweet in a prickly way, but we can only be friends. I hope you’re not too upset.” Starting off snarky might rattle her a little. I don’t need her repeating some pre-programed speech.

  “I’d rather fuck a banana.”

  “There are laws against that sort of thing. I think they call it cruelty to fruit.”

  “Don’t be a wiseass. You’re not funny.”

  I shrug and decide to just get on with it. She doesn’t want me around and I understand why. No sense delaying the inevitable. “You’re right. There’s nothing funny about this situation. I get it. You want to protect Kate from me. You think I’m bad for her. That I’ll just hurt her again. You’re wrong about that. I won’t hurt her, but I’m no good. So, you’re right there. I’m bad. Bad for her, for Megan, for everyone. When we get Megan back I should leave them alone.”

  “Yes, you should, but I see how you look at her,” Tina says. “It’s not an innocent, friendly, I’ll be leaving soon look. You still love her, don’t you?”

  I grind my jaw. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated. What more do you want from me? I’ll leave when this is done.”

  Tina touches my arm. It’s a warm gesture that takes me by surprise, not the kick in the balls I was expecting. “When you left last time, she was devastated. She could barely function. It took a long time before she was herself again.”

  “Couldn’t have been that long,” I say with surprising hostility in my voice. “Ethan showed up on the scene in a month and they hit it off rather well. Megan is evidence of that.”

  “Ethan, yes, well, he helped fill the hole, but he never replaced you. I just don’t want Kate to go through that wreckage again. It might be more than she can take this time. I don’t want her hurt.”

  “And neither do I,” I say. And I don’t.

  “So, we’re agreed,” says Tina.

  I nod. Tina should know I’m unreliable in this area. I intend to leave. That’s as good as I can muster right now. If things turn out otherwise, she’ll have to deal with it. Besides, she’s not revealing all of her true motives. Sure, she doesn’t want Kate to be hurt, but she also wants Kate for herself. She’d rather the competition—in this case me—mosey out of town. I wonder how far their relationship has progressed since Ethan died. Does Kate know the depth of Tina’s affection for her?

  Tina breaks my train of thought. “Kate said you were back in town when she reached out. Why did you come back?”

  “I had a hankering for a good cheese-steak and it had been a long while.” I’m not going to tell Tina the real reason—that I needed to know what had become of my mother. Or rather, what she had become. My demons, my mother’s demons, are none of Tina’s concern. They’re for me to worry about alone.

  Kate wanders from her bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I don’t see any blood. Have you two been behaving?”

  “We’re the best of friends,” I say. “Tina was just telling me how much she likes bananas.”

  “Bananas?” asks Kate.

  “Yep, my favorite fruit,” answers Tina.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat one.” Kate stumbles a few steps forward. “Any word from The Farm yet?”

  Tina checks the tablet. “No response yet. I guess the cult leader likes to sleep in.”

  My phone rings. “Good morning, Mary. Awfully early for you, no?”

  “I know you never sleep Steven, and I’m conditioning my body to need as little sleep as possible. I’m down to four hours a night. It’s amazing how much time that frees up for more productive purposes. Anyway, I got a hit on the facial recognition program and thought you’d want to know right away. Only one of the photos had enough detail to pull a match. The guy’s name is Frankie “The Boner” Batson. He got himself dishonorably discharged from the Army for multiple sexual assaults. He’s not a very nice dude.”

  “Great. Do you have a file on him?”

  “I’m sending it to your phone now. His last known address is in Philadelphia.”

  “It seems as if we’re dealing with a cult. Have you ever heard of an outfit called The Farm?” Mary has a photographic memory, so if she’s seen anything on them, she’d remember.

  “No, it doesn’t ring any bells. I’ll ask Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’ve been out of the loop for a while. Sheppard’s appointed Gabriel to Homeland. He’s a special agent now.”

  “The same Gabriel who was a gang leader a few months ago?”

  “Yep. To change the system, it’s important to get the right people inside. We need to pull from the outside, and push from the inside. Gabriel’s an agent of change now. He’ll be working inside, doing a lot of the pushing.”

  “That’s awesome. No one will be better at pushing than him. Thanks for the help.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll call Gabriel a little later. He’s more of a night owl than an early bird. I doubt he’s into the sleep deprivation kick like me.”

  Mary disconnects and my phone pings—the file on Frankie.

  I send the information to Kate’s tablet so we can look at it together. It’s not good news. Mary wasn’t kidding when she said Frankie was a bad dude.

  Kate turns green as we rifle through the information. At age sixteen, the cops arrested Frankie for his first sexual assault. He joined the military when he turned eighteen. Committed his first sexual assault inside the Army when he was twenty. The Army gave him a pass and then he got caught two years later. Those two were the only instances where he’d been caught. He probably committed dozens where victims never filed complaints. He spent three years overseas and saw combat. Handled himself reasonably well. Even earned a purple heart.

  On the domestic front, he married a local girl while still in the Army at age twenty. She had a baby girl six months later. He lives with his wife in an apartment in District Eleven, close by. The file contains no recent information. They don’t have a current employer or anything like that.

  Kate reaches for a trashcan and wretches. She pauses, vomits again, and straightens up. “This guy captured Megan?” Her voice wavers, as if she’ll need
another go at the can.

  “There are a lot of Frankies in the country now, people who can’t find purchase anywhere,” I say. “This guy is worse than most, but it’s hard for the government to watch them all. They probably think he’s not important enough to worry about. He’s dangerous, but he’s poor, and as long as they have their checkpoints and restricted neighborhoods, they can keep him out of the Upper Districts.”

  “Let’s make sure he’s our bad guy,” I add.

  Frankie’s military identification picture from the file matches the creep in our video. “It’s him, but he’s working for someone else. This Farm cult. They know Megan’s special. They want her for a reason.” I leave it there. I can’t say Frankie hasn’t touched Megan or won’t harm her. A guy like that with a girl like Megan spells trouble.

  Tina says, “This is good news, Kate. It’s a lead. When we find Frankie, we’ll find Megan.” Tina encourages me with her eyes to say more, to focus Kate on the positives.

  It’s a good idea to keep her from the looming world of what ifs, so I follow Tina’s lead. “When I get my hands on him, he’ll tell us everything we need to know. I promise.”

  That’s an easy promise to make. Frankie will wish he were never born. Looks like the Fates have woven one of Frankie’s strings into my loom.

  Too bad for Frankie.

  They screwed him big time.

  Tina and I drag Kate to the common kitchen, a large open space with half a dozen refrigerators, three large stovetops and ovens, a dozen microwaves, and plenty of sinks and counter space. Everything is well marked. All the appliances and counters have apartment numbers listed on them, so it’s clear who’s supposed to use what.

  Tina uses Kate’s card key to swipe open a cabinet with Kate’s apartment number on it. I grab the mugs and the coffee pods from her and make coffee for us. Tina adds hot water to three bowls of oatmeal. We sit at one of the long tables and drink the coffee. It’s bitter and hot and burns on the way down. The burn feels good. I add more sugar and milk.

  Sitting here with Kate and Tina, I slip into an alternate universe—one where I chose a different path. If I quit the military after serving my first tour of duty, I could have come home, gotten a job in security. Not a job like my last one. A simple one, for a company or a business. The type of position where I could come home for dinner, eat with my wife and daughter, talk about their days, be a part of a family. I could have spent every night with Kate. Megan wouldn’t have been our daughter, but we could have had a different girl, probably a good student who acted sassy most of the time but had a big heart like Kate. With any luck, she’d look like Kate.