by Daniel Jeudy
“Are you certain that nobody knows I’m here?” Sally asked. Fear was evident in her tone as she twirled a strand of russet-colored hair around her finger.
Anders smiled. “I haven’t mentioned a word about this to anyone, and these fine people have assured me our meeting will remain a guarded secret. Isn’t that right, Detective Mowbray?”
“Totally,” Addison said.
Sally took a swill of water and exhaled resignedly. “What would you like to know?”
“Just give us the rundown on how you came to be in contact with these people,” Addison suggested. “And we’ll cut in when we have any questions.”
The uneasiness remained on her face as she hiked her shoulders.
“Sure thing,” she replied as Pearce nodded supportively.
“It’s all right, just take your time,” she said in a comforting voice.
Sally’s smile was sudden and unsure.
“I was working as an international fashion model when I discovered my partner at the time was a member of that appalling club. Just the memory of being involved with somebody who participated in their evil activities completely repulses me.”
“By club, you mean Filii Reprobi?” Sharp asked.
Sally nodded. “Yeah, I prefer not to speak their name out loud.”
“We’ll keep you safe,” Sharp promised meaningfully.
Tony Anders and Sally exchanged dubious glances.
“I hope so, Agent Sharp, I do,” she said. “Although, I think you might be underestimating the enemy on this occasion. Anyway … my work took me worldwide, and I met Larry Springfield at a Gucci launch in Rome. We hit it off and dated for several months. Then I moved into one of Larry’s houses in Beverly Hills.”
“You’re talking about the Hollywood producer Larry Springfield, right?” Jed asked in amazement. “The guy who made all those award-winning science fiction movies?”
Sally smiled again; still, it failed to touch her eyes. “I am. However, you need to disregard whatever you may have seen on TMZ when it comes to Larry. All that stuff is scripted, and he has a gift for presenting as lighthearted.”
Agent Pearce had her cell resting on her thigh to record the interview; even so, Addison wrote Larry Springfield’s name down into his notepad.
“It wasn’t until two years later that everything went pear-shaped. I’d flown out to Paris to do various shoots for Vogue and expected to be on location for a couple of weeks. When things wrapped up ahead of schedule, I decided to come home early as a surprise. Larry hated the amount of work I’d been doing and insisted I didn’t need the cash. He told me I could have whatever my heart desired; all I needed to do was ask, but the idea of becoming a Hollywood wife with a monthly allowance wasn’t real enticing. My career provided independence and a function other than being Larry Springfield’s arm candy. It was something of an ongoing issue.
“After landing at the airport, I took a taxi straight to Beverly Hills only to find Larry wasn’t home. I went down to the study to check his schedule and noticed that his computer was open on a ledger called Filii Reprobi. I also saw a video paused at the bottom of the screen, and curiosity got the better of me, thank God. Because as terrible as it was to discover the truth, it would have been much worse to remain in the dark. Who knows? I might still be sleeping beside a monster. Larry always kept his PC locked tighter than a bank vault. If I’d called ahead from Paris to let him know I was coming home early, then we probably wouldn’t be sitting here today.”
“What was in the video you found?” Addison asked.
“The footage was taken inside a Gothic-style hall. There were forty-odd people gathered in groups. Some of them were engaged in sexual activity, while the others remained nearby, drinking champagne. I couldn’t hear what was said with any clarity, but about ten minutes into it, a disheveled man got dragged, screaming, across the room. He was secured to a clawfoot bathtub where they brutalized him with various knives and a cattle prod. There was a limit to how much I could stomach.”
“How old was the victim?” Addison asked.
“It was hard to know for sure,” Sally explained soberly. “He was filthy, like he’d been living on the streets, but if I had to guess, I’d say mid-twenties to early thirties.”
“How can you be sure the footage wasn’t a scene from one of Larry’s upcoming movies?” Sharp said before Sally dismissed the idea by raising her eyebrows. His suggestion caused a flash of anger to cross her face, and her cheeks reddened at their center.
“I’m sure if you were to question Larry about the video, he would tell you that was what I saw. It’s one of the reasons why I chose not to contact the LAPD with any of this. But when you’ve spent as much time in front of the camera as I have, it’s not hard to tell the difference. Besides, the ledger on his computer confirmed it was real, not to mention the warnings Tony received or the fact you’re sitting here in his office today.”
Sharp tugged awkwardly on his tie like a schoolboy talking with the prom queen. “I don’t doubt your testimony; I’m just clarifying is all. When we make our move, there can be no margin for error. Did you recognize the people in the footage?”
“Larry was filming it all. Ironic huh? But there wasn’t anybody else I could identify. It was gloomy, and I was in such a state due to the stuff they were doing to that poor man. It went beyond the point of sickening—Larry could have come home at any second.”
Addison decided to take things slightly off course. “Tony explained how you attempted to get Larry to see the evil of his actions, something about drawing him over to the light. Is that true?”
Sally looked at Tony with niece-like affection. “I think my dear friend was wearing his preacher’s cap with you there. Tony has dedicated his life to assisting the downtrodden, and he isn’t one to betray a person’s trust. It’s why I went to him for help when things first spiraled out of control. I started attending this church back in the nineties; it’s been a refuge for me over the years. The Anders family helped me through some extremely tough periods in my younger days, and I never forgot about it. They are people who can always be relied on.”
Addison looked at Tony, who appeared unaffected by the compliment.
“After I read the ledger, I packed a suitcase, jumped in my car, and booked a room at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel under my cousin’s maiden name. There was never any consideration given to drawing Larry over to the light. Not after the horrors I witnessed in that footage. Hopefully, divine justice will be served one day soon, but until such time, whatever punishment they might receive would be too light, in my opinion.”
Addison believed the woman was speaking truthfully.
“So, the footage was like a snuff film?” he suggested, watching as she pondered his question. “Kinda, I guess. However, I didn’t see the poor man die. I reached a threshold where I couldn’t watch anymore, but that’s where he was headed. Still, the event came across more like a party. A celebration of pure evil is how I would phrase it.”
“Did you notice an inverted cross in the footage?” Sharp asked hopefully.
Sally shook her head. “Not that I can recall. However, I was entirely shocked at the time, so there’s likely going to be quite a lot I missed.”
Tony Anders raised a hand in the air.
“You got something to add, Tony?” Addison invited.
“Yes, I most certainly do. If you guys approach Larry Springfield directly about what Sally has told you, it could turn out to be disastrous on several fronts. Can I inquire as to what your intentions might be once you leave this room?”
Addison looked toward Sharp. “Rick?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
“I completely understand your concerns, and I assure you everybody’s wellbeing will be the very first issue taken into consideration before any decision is reached. Simply put, we won’t be making a public display of kicking his door down, that’s for certain.”
Anders and Sally appeared somewhat appeased.
“What did you see on the ledge
r?” Addison resumed in single-minded fashion, prompting Sally to look uncertainly at Tony Anders, who nodded his encouragement.
“A register of names, people they held at locations referred to as either the compound or the estate. Both places appeared on multiple occasions in the archive, though I couldn’t find anything further that might help determine where they are. Besides each of the names were gender, age, and acquisition price. I noticed some of them had a red line marked through the particulars. Larry had highlighted certain dates. I assumed maybe they intended to meet at those times, but I can’t recall when they were. The only other thing I saw was a record of the fees Larry had outlaid to someone called the Old Man. They dated back to 1998.”
Agent Pearce placed her hand on Sally’s arm. “Do you recall the amounts of those payments?”
“It was a decent chunk of change, even for Larry Springfield. I’d say the values ranged anywhere from five hundred thousand to one million dollars.”
A sense of astonishment flooded the room in the form of total silence. The hairs on the back of Addison’s neck were standing on end while a cod knot twisted at the center of his belly. It indeed appeared as though Filii Reprobi was a serious business. No doubt palms were being greased. Addison reflected on what the Parker woman said during the FBI interview before making a note to find Larry Springfield’s accountant.
“Has Larry tried contacting you lately?” Pearce asked.
Sally rubbed her upper arms and gagged in disgust. “No. When everything initially went down, he came after me like a dog with rabies, but the last time I heard from them was when they sent somebody to threaten Tony. I altered my entire lifestyle, walked away from my career, and purchased a very secure apartment in Beverly Grove. I turned my back on anyone who was attached to my former life and started again. Do you believe they’re behind the attacks on those girls?”
The question caused a penny to drop inside Addison’s head.
“Maybe one of them has gone rogue and is working off the chain.”
Jed whistled exuberantly.
“I sure like where you’re heading with this, Ad,” he said. “It makes sense of certain things which have been convoluted up until now. Were those money figures you mentioned just what Larry outlaid personally?”
“As far as I could tell.”
“And you said there were approximately forty people on the footage you saw?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Damn, there’s a truckload of money changing hands.”
Tony Anders raised an arm again.
“Go ahead, Tony,” Sharp interjected.
“I wasn’t embellishing the kind of influence that would be available to the individuals I recognized in those photos. They were robust American icons. If the Filii Reprobi can rely upon them for support, then you guys will be jeopardizing your careers.”
“There’s no need for you to worry about us,” Sharp assured him. “These people could have the president’s ear for all I care; it still won’t affect the outcome here.”
Tony Anders shook his head ruefully. “I wish I could share in your optimism, Agent Sharp,” he said.
There was a dolefulness to the preacher’s voice that unnerved Addison. As if Pandora’s Box had been opened to reveal a bunch of dead things rotting inside. For the first time, he felt a genuine despondency about solving the case. It wasn’t like he expected to walk away empty-handed, but he knew when this investigation concluded, there would likely be a colossal wreck of destruction scattered in its wake.
Forty-Four
The Old Man’s grip tightened around the phone while he considered the various implications of the situation.
“And you’re certain of this?” he queried.
Detective Rodgers looked cautiously over his shoulder as he paced along the pavement outside LAPD headquarters.
“They’re all gathered at Tony Anders’s church as we speak. Both FBI agents, the two HSS detectives, and Sally Ferguson. But I think it would be a risky move if you were to proceed with silencing the woman and the preacher.”
“I don’t pay for advice, Tom. I pay you for information.”
Rodgers sounded like he was breathing under duress.
“When crank heads and street whores go missing, it ain’t difficult for me to look the other way,” he declared bitterly. “But Mowbray and Perkins are my colleagues, and nobody at that meeting can be dismissed as trash. Not to mention it was one helluva risky move I made in getting a hold of this intel for you.”
The Old Man chuckled derisively. “A community-minded attitude is a bit rich coming from the likes of you, considering what’s inside the folder of evidence we’ve compiled on your affairs. If those pictures were to find their way to the press, the only friends you’d have left would all be wearing orange jumpsuits inside a federal prison. In any case, there’s no need to worry. The two detectives are not in any immediate danger at this point.”
Rodgers pictured a future behind bars. “I hope your house is in order,” he said eventually. “The hounds are coming.”
Don’t worry, the Old Man thought, it most certainly is.
“I appreciate the call, Detective,” he said dispassionately. “Like always, you will be well compensated in due course. In the meantime, if anything gets set into motion, I want to be informed immediately. Make sure you follow my instructions. Are we clear?”
The Old Man waited until Rodgers acknowledged his decree, then he ended the call and returned the phone to the cradle on his desk. He felt slightly irritated that the police had managed to make a connection with Larry Springfield. Not because such knowledge might bring Filii Reprobi trouble—it just created unwanted complications that now required his undivided attention.
Sarah Parker and Edward were primarily responsible for the current circumstances and needed to be purged of their failings as a consequence. Parker once held aspirations of joining Filii Reprobi but was declined on several accounts. Her lack of class and limited assets were just two of them. The Old Man would have already interred the hag years ago if not for her cousin’s intercession. Frank Rivers promised to take on the responsibility if she ever caused a problem, and the hasty pledge was going to cost him his life. Edward’s impulsivity had drawn the authorities to their gates, which meant it was time to bring the investigation to a close.
Nothing was ever too complicated for the Old Man’s resolve. So he straightened his thoughts and began planning everything out in his head. He wasn’t about to act impulsively. Stupid choices remained stupid choices, irrespective of the speed at which they get presented. As things stood, the LAPD had nothing besides Larry’s and Sarah’s names, both of whom represented the walking dead. A satisfying chill worked its way up the Old Man’s spine as he envisioned his ideas unfolding. It was perfect, just like the Burberry suit he’d worn into the office this morning.
His frustrations were already subsiding as he retrieved his emergency phone from the desk drawer and hit speed dial on the one contact who could make every problem obsolete.
“Hello,” Ghost answered, ready for business.
“I have a situation which requires your immediate attention,” the Old Man explained calmly. “Three situations, to be exact.”
“Are you coming here, or am I coming to you?”
“I’m at the office. How soon can you be here?”
“Give me fifteen.”
“Have you begun surveillance on the detectives’ families yet?”
“I did the recon here in LA on the rookie’s girlfriend and mother. My best man is following the kid in Phoenix. All the targeted houses have already been breached.”
“Great, when you get here, we’ll talk more.”
The Old Man ended the call and lit a Cuban cigar, satisfied with how effortlessly everything could be influenced when under his control.
He’d always been cagey about Larry Springfield. The schmuck was a shameless Jew bragger who’d been born into Hollywood royalty, and killing the asshole w
ould be a lot of fun. But Edward was a different story. He came from a long line of generational brutality established on the sugar plantations in South Carolina.
How he’d become so enamored with the blue-collar blood of Linda Jones was anybody’s guess. The Old Man despised the lower classes and homeless trash who infested many parts of the city. Their whining excuses pierced his spirit like a thousand shards of broken glass. Lacking the tenacity to improve their lives, they leeched off welfare, panhandled on the sidewalks, and fermented in their stink. If it were up to him, they would all be exterminated as turds with legs should be.
The Old Man expected Edward to forget about his working-class girlfriend and incorporate the dogma of their fraternity. But she continued to harass him, like an annoying harlot who refused to part ways. There was no place for sentiment within Filii Reprobi. If Edward had arrived at this truth, it might have prevented him from lighting a fire without thinking things through. He’d jumped the gun and was going to be reunited with Linda in a hell of his own making.
The law always attempted to work its way back from a body in the hope of unpackaging the crime. Therefore, he’d need to make sure they left nothing for them to find. The Old Man closed his eyes and chuckled soberly, thinking how Edward would be remembered as a drug-inspired lunatic. “What a shame,” he whispered. “I hope she is worth it, son.”
Forty-Five
Collins didn’t feel comfortable with the directive Addison relayed to him, but the fact it had come from the FBI meant there was little he could do about it. Rick Sharp wanted to keep Larry Springfield’s identity under wraps to make sure Filii Reprobi didn’t receive a tip. It seemed like a prudent request considering Sally Ferguson’s disclosure about the group, yet the lieutenant was having difficulty getting his head around things.
Addison checked the time on the wall, eager to call it a day. His shift had ended almost two hours ago, and the only thing he’d eaten was a packet of Funyuns from the vending machine in the kitchen. An image of pepperoni pizza with melted cheese tormented his mind as Collins stared across at him expectantly.