“You are so full of bullshit. People like you are exactly the reason we started the foundation. So we don’t have to listen about crap like that. Listen, we are talking about kids’ lives here. I’m offering a chance to do some good, and it’s not going to cost your good citizens a nickel.”
“We performed our due diligence regarding Prez’s proposal, and then we amended it to make it better for Oregon, its Native Americans, its youth and its elderly.”
“You are talking about ramping up the potential for gambling addiction, crime, drug dealing and dragging young girls into prostitution?”
Prez steps in. “That can all be controlled with proper supervision. More importantly, there are hundreds of jobs created and saved. The Chad Huang Foundation’s offer, while seemingly generous, will be spent in two years, not the five they think. And who will fund it then? On the other hand, good jobs will last a lifetime.”
“Okay, okay. I think we’ve heard enough. Can’t we just vote again?” says Turk.
Chief nods. “I agree. All in favor of Prez’s proposal raise your hands.”
The economic argument wins. Krystal switches her vote to join Turk, Freddy, Russell and Gina.
Chief shakes his head. “Noah, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Can you please leave?”
Noah silently exits the room.
Sandy gets up. “I’m glad we were able to resolve this, but I need to get back to Salem. I’ve had fifty texts asking me to get back ASAP.”
“Thanks for your initiative in leading this, Sandy,” says Gina. “Maybe I can finally get a job.”
“That’s up to Prez.”
Sandy gives a quick wave goodbye and exits.
“Prez, can you stay for a few minutes, please? Please. I want to go over some of the details with the council in private as we draft the deal memo. Might as well make use of the Turk’s tribal council-funded law degree.”
“Of course.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll throw a big party and have an official signing.”
Chapter 18
Brad stands outside the administrative center and sees Noah storm out.
“That good, huh?”
“Bunch of bozos who got shined on by a sexy chick promising to put a chicken in every pot and a slot machine on every corner of the reservation. Sorry, Brad. I tried.”
“Yeah, well… Can I show you something before you go?”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. For a moment, I was worried you wanted me to drink some more of that god-awful coffee they serve here.”
“Follow me.”
Brad takes Noah for a different kind of tour of the Coyote River reservation.
Once past the houses, a little trek in the forest was eye and ear opening. They can hear woodpeckers hammering their heads, Canada geese honking and songbirds’ muffled singing in the trees. A stop by a small marsh reveals several families of ducks swimming with their young brood.
“This will all be gone if the casino expands,” says Brad.
“Yeah, there’ll be fifty bars and whorehouses here instead.”
Another five minutes of traipsing through the reservation, and they come into a little clearing where there is what appears to be a large wooden shed.
“This is my longhouse,” says Brad.
Noah bursts out laughing. “Sorry, Brad, this looks more shack than ceremonial.”
However, amusement turns to awe when Noah steps into Brad’s longhouse. On its walls and on a few easels are paintings Brad has done. For a person so young, Brad has created something magical, fusing the traditions of his own people with the distorted colorful images of Picasso with the transcendence of Chinese mountain landscape watercolor artists.
“Where did you learn to do stuff like this?”
“I’ve looked at every art book in the Cedarville library, and I’ve explored the Internet for images. Once every month or so, I go to Portland with my dad and check out all the galleries there.”
“Yeah, but this is real art.”
“I spend a lot of time with Russell. He’s taught me things. My grandmother, Sally, is about the only one alive still who knows all the stories of our tribe. I hear them, and then I want to interpret them—not as someone who lives in the past, but as someone who lives in the present and is looking at the future.”
Noah stares hard at this young man.
“How old are you, Brad?”
“Eighteen.”
***
Sandy hears the sound of an engine rapidly approaching her. She looks in her rearview mirror and sees a familiar Corvette gaining ground fast.
Prez smiles as she passes the Tesla and then parks her Stingray on the side of the road.
Sandy pulls over, too, and salivates as she sees the Asian eye candy approaching her, stroking a flask in her hand.
“Was I good?” asks the senator with a cheeky twinkle.
“Purrrfect,” says Prez as she opens the flask. She places the flask over Sandy’s head and pours its contents slowly over her head—it’s blood.
The red liquid seeps from her hair, down her cheeks and onto her lips. Sandy moves her finger, touches it and dips into her mouth, licking it seductively.
“Give me more, Prez,” urges Sandy.
Prez puts her mouth on Sandy’s, biting it so hard, that blood comes trickling from Sandy’s lips.
With her mouth locked on Prez’s, Sandy whips off her jacket.
Prez rips off Sandy’s blouse and then unfastens her bra.
Prez bites a little harder, allowing more blood to flow into her mouth as she squeezes then claws the skin of Sandy’s breasts.
Blood starts to trickle from the deep scratches. Sandy had never thought of herself as a sexual exhibitionist—even on a little-used highway. Nor is she someone who gets aroused by blood, but Prez… Prez could make her do anything, anywhere, anyhow.
“Now, Prez. Please,” begs Sandy.
“Don’t be so impatient. We’re just starting.”
Prez pulls down Sandy’s skirt and panties. Her mouth sinks to Sandy’s breasts where she bites slowly but firmly on the nipples. Like the blissfully ignorant frog that cooks as temperature rises when water is boiled, Sandy doesn’t even realize that Prez’s bite has pierced the skin.
Prez’s fingernails gash Sandy’s thighs.
“Now, I’m ready,” says Prez.
“Yes!” cries Sandy.
Prez suddenly pulls herself off Sandy’s nude and bleeding body and aims the remote at her car. The trunk pops open.
Two Komodo dragons leap out, and instinctively their fat squat legs dash to the smell of blood.
Prez steps aside to give Sandy full view of the impending danger.
The naked senator runs, trying to escape.
Not that easy. One of the dragons leaps and bites her on the arm, tearing off a piece of flesh.
Sandy ignores the pain and falters a few more feet, but it’s no use. The Komodos chomp on either of her legs, taking her to the ground.
As the dragons feast slowly on Sandy, the politician cries out, “Why, Prez? Why?”
Prez walks up and hovers over Sandy and the dragons.
“I can’t trust you, Sandy. Who knows if you will change your mind? Before yesterday, you and your environmentalist friends would have lynched me for trying to promote development and gambling. What did it take to change your mind? A piece of tail. What happens when someone else comes along that wants you to change again? Someone bigger, stronger, sexier? I will not take that chance.”
Chapter 19
“Where do you want all the stuff to go?” asks Brad.
Noah has just bought half a dozen of Brad’s pieces for a thousand bucks.
“Not sure yet. Just keep it safe until I figure out where we’re going.”
“Thanks, Noah. Hey, sorry about the gun. I wasn’t really trying to shoot you.”
“I guess I’m lucky you’re a lousy shot.”
The two shake hands, and Noah gets back into the rented car.
“I believe you.”
Noah stayed with Brad half an hour longer than he expected to, so if he’s going to catch a plane back to Shanghai, he’s got to blitz.
However, he is barely five minutes down the road when he notices that that the handling of the car is off. Two minutes later, he pulls to the side of the road to discover the car’s got a flat tire. One minute after that, he’s cursing, as neither the fob nor the button on the dashboard to open the trunk works.
A quick search on his iPhone shows the closest roadside assistance is at least thirty-five miles away, so he opts to call 911.
Another half hour, and a state patrol car rolls up. A trooper, midthirties and mean looking, steps out and spots the problem.
“I’m Officer Wally Kirk. See you’ve got a flat. Got a spare tire?”
“Probably, but that’s the problem. I can’t get the trunk open.”
Noah demonstrates and confirms that the trunk won’t open.
“I can get you to a dealer an hour away, I can find a tow truck driver or we can try jimmying the lock, or just break into it.”
“I’m in a rush. Can you help me with the lock?”
“Sure.”
Wally goes to his patrol car and gets a screwdriver. He shoves it into the trunk keyhole and pops open the trunk.
A second later, the trooper whips out his gun and points it at Noah.
“You responsible for this?”
Noah looks inside. There lies Sandy’s mutilated, nude, dead body.
“I didn’t do it. I… I had nothing to do with this,” stammers Noah.
“That’s what the guilty always say.”
Keeping his gun pointed at Noah, Wally gets out a set of handcuffs and shackles him to the door handle of the patrol car.
Wally puts on latex gloves and starts rifling through Sandy’s clothes. He finds her business card and makes a quick Internet search, and yes, the body in front of him is definitely that of the senator.
“Noah Reid, you are under arrest for the murder of Sen. Alexandra Patterson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you… ”
Noah bursts in. “I am a lawyer, and I don’t need another. There’s got to be a mistake. I’ve been here the whole time. I’m not guilty of anything.”
“I take that as a yes.”
***
On the top of the dragon altar in the Sanctum, Roger pants with exalted bliss. This is only the second time that he’s experienced Prez’s physical legerdemain, and if anything, it is better than the previous time two years ago.
They were celebrating because Roger was able to deposit seven million dollars into Prez’s bank account, more than five times what he could normally do without authorization from his bank superiors.
Prez lies back down on top of the altar, snaps open a capsule and sprinkles the powder on her bosom.
Roger doesn’t need any more encouragement. He devours her perfectly formed breasts, licking every molecule of the fine, white substance. Even before he’s finished, supercharged energy streaks through his body. His eyes glimmer, his body hardens as he mounts the Dragon Goddess.
Suddenly, nausea engulfs him.
He pulls himself off Prez and climbs off the altar.
He tries to step on the floor, but dizziness becomes vertigo. Roger collapses unconscious onto the marble surface.
In a few minutes, he will be dead, a small mercy.
In two hours, a random motorist will find his body at the side of the road close to his home, wearing a T-shirt and running shorts. Nothing unusual about that as Roger was known to run for two miles a day. However, the app on his smartphone will show that he has run at 120 percent of his normal pace for three miles before he apparently suffered his fatal heart attack. Cause of death—overdoing it, which is not exactly untrue.
Morris Williams, a senior loans manager at a competing financial institution, will replace Roger’s position in the elite group of six. Because Prez’s bank account now shows ten million dollars in assets, Morris will exercise a little discretionary judgment and allow her to borrow an additional forty million dollars.
Morris is a recent addition to the dragon cult.
Fifty million down, one hundred to go.
***
It is often said that the person who represents himself has a fool for a client. Especially if he’s never practiced criminal law and never been in a courtroom.
However, Noah doesn’t have a lot of choice because just as there aren’t a lot of police, there are even fewer criminal lawyers in Cedarville. Fewer as in zero.
In a rural community, especially one hard hit financially, there’s a lot of doubling and tripling of duties to make up for the lack of resources. Especially as pertains to law enforcement because there just isn’t a whole lot of crime among the less than a thousand people that live in the area. This isn’t the big city, and Cedarville certainly doesn’t have the kind of crime labs that you see on television. No, the coroner here did this as a part-time job to augment her income as a vet. There is no way she was capable of determining exact time of death. However, because Sandy’s body was still relatively supple and her body temperature was at about eighty degrees, it indicated that she probably died in the last few hours.
That’s hardly enough to convict Noah, but there were other items that made it easier and a great time to be in law enforcement in this small town.
Like the video of Prez and Sandy going at it on Noah’s cell phone. Homosexuality has long stopped being illegal, but it sure makes interesting watching for Wally and Lester Mackenzie, the rotund warden.
But even more incriminating is the scene of Noah and Prez in his bedroom. Both men would give up their firstborn to be Noah as they see Prez, fully and sensationally nude, taking off his clothes.
“You don’t have the money to do the deal. Your father has been throwing everything at me to try to get his back.”
“I’m not interested in working with my father. I’m interested in working with you.”
Prez starts taking Noah’s shirt off. She runs her fingers down his chest.
“There’s no reason that you can’t run your youth center and have a money-making Coyote River. Especially the way I want to do it.”
“What are you suggesting, Prez?”
Prez’s back, speckled with tiny dragons is now in full view.
“I’m not my father’s daughter. I can see the merits of us working together. The tribal council will go along with that, but Sandy does what Sandy wants. She only went along with this because she wants me for one thing only. If I ever change… she might… ”
She runs her hand down toward Noah’s zipper.
“I am most definitely interested, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“That’s not what she said!” yells Noah.
“You think I’m stupid? The video doesn’t lie.”
“She changed part of it. We never, ever talked about Sandy. Wind it back. When she talked about Sandy, her back was turned against the camera.”
“We’re not in Hollywood, and this thing was done just a few hours ago.”
Noah is speechless—he doesn’t have an answer, especially when he sees the flurry of text messages between the senator and himself.
N: I saw your movie with Prez. Can I get some, too?
S: You’re not my type.
N: Is five thousand bucks cash your type? Less than an hour. Unless you want more.
S: Haha. What’s your real game?
N: I want to make you rich.
S: I’m listening.
N: Cancel the deal with Prez. Give it to me instead. I’ll make it worth your while.
S: You’re not exactly a Boy Scout, are you?
N: Everyone thinks I’m a saint. Once the deal gets done, I’ll do whatever I want.
S: Just
outside of Cedarville, there’s a Mobil gas station. Go behind it, and there’s a summer cottage with green siding. I’ll meet you there.
N: Done.
A check at the summer cottage showed some blood splatters in the room. A portable blood typing kit showed that the blood type was identical to the late senator’s.
Also inside the summer cottage were two partially full drinking glasses containing water and what appeared to be slices of a fresh root and dried meat.
These substances corresponded to the contents of a package found inside Noah’s suitcase. Two natural but uncommon aphrodisiacs useful for men and women: slices of fresh panax ginseng root from China and slices of dried tiger’s penis. Noah was also charged with possession of illegal tiger parts.
In the small Cedarville jail, if you can call it that, Lester and Wally make Noah strip. Lester heard somewhere that if you make someone feel like shit, they obey better. Besides, this is the first bona fide murderer he’s ever dealt with, and he’s gonna make damn sure that he doesn’t escape. A naked inmate is hardly a flight risk.
Lester locks him in the solitary cell of the low-budget jail.
Noah calls out, “Don’t I get a phone call?”
“Who you planning to lie to next?”
***
“The spotting hasn’t stopped, Mrs. Wang.”
“You must rest more, Olivia. No movement.”
“I haven’t stepped out of bed except to go to the bathroom. I need to do that at least.”
“This is a difficult time for the baby, Olivia. No exercise, and whatever you do, don’t worry. No stress.”
Right.
DING! Olivia’s cell phone goes off indicating a message has arrived.
There are no words but a short video, no longer than a dozen seconds. There is no sound except for the last phrase. It’s the second time in an hour that there’s been an unintended audience for this clip.
RITUAL SACRIFICE: The Ultimate Alpha Female & Political Corruption on the West Coast (Noah Reid Action Suspense Thriller Series Book 5) Page 14