by Andrew Allan
“You got Razook. That’s the one we wanted,” I said.
“Shit, I got a hell of a lot more of ‘em than that.” He said, sizing up the mess. “Pretty sure I got ‘em all.” DG slapped my back. “You sure know how to throw a party, Walt.”
67
“SIT.”
We were in Stokely’s office, back in Dunnellon. It looked like you’d expect, with files and academy plaques, photos with important dignitaries. He also had a teepee of fishing poles leaning in the corner. He caught me looking.
“I get out on the river often as I can,” he said.
“It’s a special place,” I said. “The thought of never seeing it again was almost too much.”
He tossed a manila folder on the table.
“What’s this?”
“Copies of the docs I can share with you. Altogether, they say the charges against you have been dropped. Other parties, now deceased, have been found to be at fault…for killing my officers, killing the Governor, and destroying one of the top tourist hotels on the beach.”
“They’re not pinning that on DG,” are they?
“They could have.”
I flipped through the pages. Words like ‘misidentified’, ‘evidence’, and ‘exonerated’ jumped out.
I had every reason to finally relax. But, I still didn’t believe it.
“What did you find out about the Kith?” I said.
Stokely leaned back in his chair.
“That briefcase was loaded with info. The most interesting bits are in there.” He pointed to the file. “We went to Razook’s house, the air base.”
“Wasn’t that something?”
“We freed six women, four of whom had been listed as missing persons.”
“Told you they were creeps,” I said.
“Everything you told us proved out.”
“What else?”
“We have investigators still searching the records. We found a members list. Everyone on it is getting contacted.”
“How many members?”
“Last count was north of fourteen hundred.”
That was a lot of people.
“Many of them important and famous,” he said.
“How are they reacting?”
“They’re reacting as expected. They have too much to lose and would do anything to prevent the truth from getting out. So, they’re more than happy to flip and tell us what we need to know. Everything points back to Razook.”
I leaned in. “Did you find anything about Oren Denner?”
“His name popped up here and there in Inkner’s records.”
“Who?”
“Razook. His real name was Arthur Inkner.”
Stokely dug through his files and pulled out two copies of official documents, a birth certificate and a name change certificate. “Changed his name in nineteen seventy-seven.”
“It’s been going on that long?”
“Took him a while to build things up. But, once he discovered how to use leverage, looks like that’s when things took off, around eighty-nine.”
The creep was dedicated.
“What about Denner?”
“We couldn’t find enough to clear you on that.”
He gave me a look like I was still in trouble.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we couldn’t find enough to clear you. So, we made some of our own.”
He didn’t give me a sly wink or flash a smile. He didn’t even look proud. But, it was clear he did what he felt was right, given the circumstances. Because unless that was cleared up, I would have gone to jail for the rest of my life.
“You know I didn’t do it,” I said.
He thought about it, then nodded.
“Thank you,” I said. “For trusting me.”
“And, thank you for trusting me.”
We shook hands over the desk. I grabbed the file, stood and walked towards the door.
“Oh, I meant to ask…how are they taking it up at the Capitol?”
Stokely leaned back in his chair. He looked bothered.
“What?” I said.
“My authority only stretches so far.”
“You’re not going after Hoyt?”
“I can’t.”
He tucked his thumbs into his belt. It was a more respectable, cooler gesture than throwing up his hands.
“I see.”
You bet I was disappointed. I hated it. But, what else could he do? If he didn’t have jurisdiction.…
“Wait, isn’t the Governor’s state of emergency a key part of the case against Razook?” I said.
“What case? Razook’s dead,” he said.
He had me there.
“I can’t go after Hoyt because if I did it’d make an even bigger mess. It would reveal names. Everyone would fight it.”
I waved it off. I understood. That kind of mess was in the news every day. Justice becomes secondary to politics.
Stokely seemed defeated by it all.
“Extenuating circumstances, right?”
“Right,” he said. “But, don’t think I like it.”
“I don’t. You’re too good of a man to accept it.”
He nodded.
I nodded.
“Let’s go fishing sometime. You know where to find me.”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
I got out of there.
68
I STARTED THE car but didn’t go anywhere. It just idled in the parking lot. Truth was, I felt lost. What now?
The fight against The Kith had gone on for so long, and had been so intense and consuming, it was hard to remember what my life was like before it. Was I just supposed to go back and return to writing about face-lifts and vacuums and cookware and doo-dads and forget it ever happened?
No.
I’d never forget.
In fact, I needed to make some therapy appointments for myself and Ilsa. I should probably spring for some therapy for DG. But, he’d turn it down. And if he did go, his therapist would probably wanna kill himself.
I felt hopeful, happy, and most excited at the prospect of doing absolutely nothing for a little while. Laze about the river, maybe do some reading. There was enough cash in the bank to buy time to heal.
Vacation. I needed to take Ilsa somewhere, help her process. She’d talked about Montreal.
And, the house? We couldn’t live there anymore. How would we ever feel safe? We’d have to get a new one. But, it might still need to be on the river. To give that up meant the Kith had won. There were some compromises one doesn’t make.
One thing I had lost completely was the old me, the one who sat on the sidelines. The one who resisted making a difference for no reason other than I didn’t know what difference it would make. Did that mean all this, um, did me some good?
Let’s not go that far. There was no good that could come out of all the killing and torture and terrorizing done by the Kith.
Or, by me.
I had my own penance to pay, didn’t I? Blood on my hands, lives I ruined.
They were bad guys, for the most part. But, there was also Teddy the journalist. He was a good guy. Carlos’ friends down in Lorida. They’d had motivation to fight, but ultimately raced to battle for me. Some of them hadn’t made it out.
Ilsa demanded I settle this once and for all, and without killing. And now, at this moment, I felt beyond grateful for her rigid stance.
I won without having to become as bad as the Kith.
Sure, I was tarnished. I’d never look in the mirror and see the old Walt Asher. I’d be haunted for the rest of my life.
But, I accomplished what I couldn’t reasonably expect to achieve in a way I can look back on and feel some relief.
Everyone should get to enjoy their one chance to live. That’s all there was to it. And through my actions, along with the help of my closest friends, there were dozens, maybe hundreds of people across the State of Florida who are now safe and alive and able to do just that.
That will be my defense at the Pearly Gates.
I drove home and checked on Ilsa.
She wanted to lose herself in work, forget what had happened until she was ready to process all of it. We both knew how painful that would be. She was packing a small bag to take up to Gainesville where she would check on her bars.
Her wounds were healing. And although she would disagree with me, I thought she was as beautiful as ever.
“When do you expect to be back?” I said.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been to the bars in so long I need to see what condition everything is in.”
Because, God forbid, how would all those rowdy college students in Gainesville drink without Ilsa having her bars in order?
“Do what you need to do. Call and I will come,” I said.
“Good to see you are still my obedient boy.” She smirked.
I about melted. Because I saw a spark of genuine life in her. She was still there, buried under stacks of emotional rubble. I was gonna make damn sure to dig her out.
“Allow me to give you a parting gift.”
I scooped her up with flair and sweeping romantic fervor. She said, “Ouch.”
I set her down fast. “Sorry, forgot about the bruises.”
“It’s okay. Come on and bring your lips.” She led me to the bedroom.
69
FLORIDA ISN’T ALL sun and sand.
This time of year, and in the northern part of the state, it gets frigid enough to snow, which it was doing at the moment.
Small, feathery flakes of ice drifted in the air only to melt and disappear on the first surface they touched. The only accumulation of white was on the grass. That went away when I stepped on it. I walked out from the back of the abandoned building situated just off the long, dark country highway. A place few people visited.
A limo pulled up.
The window rolled lowered.
“What do you want?” said Governor Henry Hoyt. “What’s going on?”
“Recognize me?” I said.
He studied my face but it wasn’t coming to him.
“Get out and let’s talk.”
Before the Governor could open his door, the chauffeur stepped over and opened it for him. It wasn’t his usual chauffeur. It was DG, who had temporarily incapacitated the usual driver a few miles back outside a very tony mansion on the rich side of Tallahassee.
“Sir,” said DG. He pulled the door open with flair. He went so far as to put the driver’s hat on. It looked odd with his scruffy denim.
Hoyt gave him an angry look. But, there was also resignation in his face. He knew he was at a disadvantage.
“You’re costing me a lot of money,” he said. He pulled the lapels of his jacket to readjust the fit.
“You’re lucky that’s all we’re costing you.”
His lips twisted with displeasure.
“We just want to make sure we’re clear on a few things. Kith-related things.”
“I know nothing about that,” he said with defiance.
I turned to DG. “Make an appointment to have his amnesia checked out.”
DG tipped the driver’s hat.
Hoyt wasn’t amused.
“You’re familiar with emergency declarations. And, how they can be used to grab land for certain organizations. You’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen ever again.”
“How’m I supposed to do that?”
“You’re the Governor, figure it out. But, make sure it’s law before the end of the year.”
“It’s not just up to me.”
DG shook his head. “That’s too bad. Because we have a lot of pictures from the Kith website that would raise many questions.”
He smirked. “You blackmailing me?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “That’s a crime.”
“That’s exactly what it is if you’re threatening to share those pics—that kind of information!”
“Shut up. Those pictures have already been shared.”
He didn’t like that.
“I’m simply here to persuade and encourage you to do the right thing,” I said.
“And, what is the right thing?” said the Governor.
“You should know by now. But, I’ll clarify. The right thing is never, ever doing anything to support the Kith ever again. You make sure DeSoto goes back to the State for everyone to enjoy. You work from the inside to make sure the Kith withers on the vine.”
“You’re shittin’ me. I have the business of the people to tend to. That’s where my focus is.”
“We’re your constituents, slap nuts,” said DG.
Hoyt thought about it, then composed himself.
“Alright,” he said. “Fine. As far as I’m concerned, the Kith is dead. Razook died. His people died. It’s done.”
“And yet, you still like boning little girls,” said DG.
Hoyt’s face bloomed an embarrassed shade of red.
“We ought to kill you just for that,” I said.
“You wanna work this out or not?” he said.
“Not,” said DG. “But, we’re trying to take the high road.”
“Have operations ceased?” I said.
“How should I know?”
“You knew enough,” said DG.
“Have you spoken to anyone? About continuing the Kith? We know who all the members are.”
He looked worried. I could see him calculating for the best answer.
He said, “There was some talk. By those…those members you mentioned. I wanted nothing to do with it.”
“So, the dream is still alive?”
“Of course it’s alive, Walt,” said DG. “You think these old pecker pounders can change? To them, anything other than maximum freedom is imprisonment.”
I looked to Hoyt, he to me. He wasn’t denying it. Just trying to figure how to spin it so he could get out of this alive. And, take care of us later.
“I don’t believe I can trust you.”
“Why not? We’re on the same side on this. The Kith is over. That’s it. You gotta trust me on this.”
DG looked skeptical.
As an infomercial writer, I know anytime anyone says ‘trust me’, it’s bullshit.
“The past few weeks should have been enough to scare the absolute piss out of you. So, I’m inclined to let you go.”
Hoyt brightened with hope.
“But, Walt. Are you saying Governor Hoyt here can be trusted to resume his duties without any bias towards covering up crimes he and his friends may have committed?”
DG sounded like the disbelieving co-host of an infomercial. They call that Nancy Nelsoning, after the woman who did it best.
“You better believe it, DG. With Governor Hoyt’s high moral integrity and commitment to the citizens of Florida, he’s the last Governor you’ll ever need.”
“That’s amazing! But, wait. I’ve seen so many other people promise, promise, promise to be good and then a few weeks later, when everything has calmed down, they go back to their dastardly ways.”
I almost lost it when DG said “dastardly”.
“DG, Governor Hoyt isn’t like those other guys. In fact, we’re so confident you’ll love how well he tows the line that he comes fully backed by our 100 percent “No Kithing” guarantee.”
“No Kithing?”
“No kidding.”
DG’s jaw dropped and his eyes popped wide open.
“That’s because Governor Hoyt will remain haunted by the pants-shitting fear that we will kill him if he even thinks about talking about the Kith,” I said.
“Incredible,” said DG.
Hoyt smirked, enjoying the show.
“But, that’s not all,” I said. “As a bonus, every shady Governor comes with a free, long-term, message-sending, biker-gang beat down.”
Hoyt’s smirk disappeared as the rest of DG’s gang, The Plague, appeared out of the darkness. They looked deadly in their denim, cuts, scruff, and dirt. Their brass knuckles gleamed in the moonligh
t.
“Wait a minute,” said Hoyt. “Now, this ain’t right.”
“Our free gift to you.”
DG gave the signal and the boys pounced.
Hoyt covered his head and tried to climb inside the limo.
“I promise!”
DG said to the gang, “Easy on the face, boys. He has a fundraiser to go to.”
One of The Plague slammed Hoyt against the car. Another biker slammed a fist into Hoyt’s gut. Hoyt “oofed” and tears streamed.
DG got in his face. “You’re part of our club now. And, can’t you just imagine what we do to traitors?”
Hoyt nodded several times. He looked shaky and broken.
“Never underestimate how ruthless a bike gang can be,” I said.
Hoyt looked at me. “I promise you, I understand.” He sniffled. “The Kith is forever dead.”
“Why?”
“Because of you. Because of…Walt Asher.”
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