Buck Henderson was the first to greet her, trying to flatter her with his Southern charm. “Why, Henrietta, you look ravishing tonight, and not a day over fifty.”
Henrietta bared her perfect teeth. “There is no need for the bullshit, Buck. I haven’t looked fifty in more than thirty years. I see that everyone is here except our esteemed guest.”
Buck backed away one step. “No harm intended. No, we just received a call saying that the senator was tied up in a late meeting. He’ll be coming with his wife and secretary.”
“That should be interesting. He’s screwing both of them, and one more than the other. I do enjoy watching for subtle innuendoes. You have the photos, of course?”
“Yes.”
There was a commotion in the grand entrance. Hunter was being escorted through the two massive front doors. He was followed closely by his wife, Debra, and Phyllis. Henrietta turned and walked toward them. They intercepted each other at the entrance to the ballroom.
“Ms. LePley. Thank you for the invitation.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Senator.”
“Let me introduce my wife, Debra.”
“Ms. LePley.” She shook the matriarch’s outstretched hand.
“My personal secretary, Phyllis McRae, you met the other day.”
Henrietta met the woman’s eyes and shook her hand. Phyllis lowered her eyes. “You have been very diligent in making the senator available tonight. I know that you manage his affairs very closely.”
Debra’s eyes shot quickly to meet Henrietta’s, then turned away.
Phyllis responded, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Yes, Ms. LePley, we keep a close eye on the senator. He is a busy man, as you most certainly know.”
“Yes he is.” She grinned, showing her perfect teeth. “Let us get a drink.”
She walked toward the bar, guiding Hunter along. A thin, bald man in his mid-sixties turned as they approached. He was impeccably dressed in a brown summer blazer and white pants.
“Everett, I am so pleased that you could make it.” She turned to Hunter. “Senator, let me introduce you to Everett Oelze and his wife Annemarie.” An attractive, plump woman of Italian descent and similar age turned upon hearing her name.
“It’s nice to see you again, Everett,” Hunter said. “Correct me if I am wrong; you are a member of the Tea Party and a benefactor of the GOP. We’ve met a few times before.” He extended his hand.
Oelze grasped Hunter’s hand enthusiastically. “Yes, Mr. Senator, may I call you James?”
Hunter nodded smiling. “Mrs. Oelze, it is a pleasure.”
“We met in Jacksonville last year,” Everett said. “We had one hell of a time at that golf outing.”
Hunter nodded. “Yes, they do know how to throw a party. I wish the golf, or at least my golf, had been better. That TPC course tore the heck out of me. You want to know where your game’s at, take to the big stage.”
“Yes, I had a hard time myself.” He paused for a moment. “I supported your candidacy in the past two elections.”
Hunter forced a smile. “Yes, of course. I thank you for that.”
Oelze nodded, taking a sip from his bourbon. “One hand needs to wash the other.”
Hunter’s smile disappeared. “I see where this is going, Everett. I am a firm believer in walking the company line, but I am also a man of conviction. If you are referring to the Clean Water Bill, it is my legislation and I plan to have it passed; my constituency demands it.”
“Your legislation is good for the birds and fish, but will kill the backbone of the Floridian economy. You are starting to sound like our President. If we continue to give away tax dollars, our great country will be bankrupt.”
“Is it America’s bankruptcy or your bank account not being as full as you might wish that you’re most concerned with, Everett?”
Henrietta put her hand on Everett’s arm. “We haven’t offered the good senator a drink yet, Everett. There will be time to talk about these things at dinner.”
Everett nodded. “Of course, where are my manners? What would you and Mrs. Hunter like?”
“Honey?” James turned to Debra.
“A mojito would be divine, thank you darling.”
“Make that three, please, Everett.” He turned to Phyllis. “Mojito?”
She nodded. “Yes, please, I need a drink.”
Once they had their cocktails, Henrietta guided them to an outside terrace. “You see, James, it is more than the whim of an old Southern woman. I will benefit if the bill is squashed, there is no question. But this runs deeper. It is about Americans remaining in control of America. America owned the world after World War II. Since then, it’s been in steady decline. We have mortgaged our future. As a people, we don’t plan—we react. Our politicians—please accept my apology, James—are only interested in the next election. There will be another debt crisis in the next 10 to 12 years. I’m not so sure that we will be able to crawl or buy our way out of that one.”
She put her finger on his chest. “It’s time to start taking back our country a piece at a time. It will not happen in one fell swoop. Strong local policies will snowball. Other states will see what we have done by looking after our own backyard. It’s not just about your bill.” She smiled her toothy smile as one of the people on the terrace approached.
The man was not tall, perhaps five-foot-eight, but he had a presence. His eyes were nearly black, his hair dark and closely shaved down to his scalp. He wore a black pinstriped suit with a white shirt, open at the collar. It was the way the man looked at him that unnerved Hunter, and his cologne was strangely intoxicating. Both Henrietta and this stranger had the same effect upon him. He didn’t like it, yet he felt compelled to meet him.
“Senator,” the man said with a slight French inflection. He offered James his hand.
Henrietta interjected. “James, let me introduce an old friend of mine. Mason Matye. How long have we been known each other, Mason?”
“It seems ages, my dear.” His eyes never left Hunter’s. “So this is the esteemed senator that I have been hearing so much about?”
“So much about?” Hunter scrunched his eyebrows. He turned to Henrietta. “I didn’t come, Ms. LePley, to be broadsided.” He turned to Phyllis. “I think I have heard about enough for this evening, Phyllis.”
Mason interjected. “Of course, Mr. Senator, it was not our intention to gang up on you. We simply wanted an opportunity to give you our side of the issue which has been the source of our, shall we say, impasse. Your office has not responded to our communications, which is not very . . . democratic.”
A large, older gentleman turned from his conversation and moved in beside Mason. “Buck, have you met the senator?” Henrietta interjected.
He spoke in a loud, deep voice. “Why, no, I haven’t had the pleasure. Buck Henderson.”
Hunter shook the man’s hand. He did not say a word, but nodded his acceptance of the man’s introduction. He turned back to Mason.
“Sir, if I responded to everyone’s whims, we wouldn’t accomplish much. We did in fact send a letter to Ms. LePley’s office that we could not recommend your position. I think that was pretty clear.”
Henrietta smiled, her perfect teeth like tiny little daggers. “Then it is your final position that you are backing the legislation?”
“If you want to phrase it that way, then yes. That is my position and I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon. Now if we don’t have any other issues to discuss, I think I will be rude and decline to stay for the dinner. I find the conversation of little interest, and I have made my position quite clear.” He turned to Debra, who was visibly on edge, as was Phyllis.
Henrietta placed a hand on his shoulder. “And which of these two women will you be fucking tonight? Mr. Senator?”
Hunter’s face turned dark red. “I’ve never heard such—”
Buck cut him off. “Such what? Come now, Mr. Senator. We know that you have been having an affair with Ms. McRae for som
e time now.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “We have ample proof.”
Debra Hunter burst into tears. Phyllis didn’t say a word.
“Let’s all sit down at the table now like proper Southerners. I think there might be more to discuss than anticipated.”
The small group moved into the dining hall where the other guests sat in their seats waiting for the remaining guests to be seated. James Hunter looked like a caged animal. His face was red and he didn’t try to mask his anger. Debra walked beside him in shock. As they sat, Hunter noticed that Phyllis was no longer with them. Buck showed the Hunters to their seats. Henrietta sat at the head of the table, and Mason sat beside her. There were two empty seats beside each.
Henrietta tapped her glass with a small silver spoon. Servers poured wine and served a spicy squash and prawn soup.
“Esteemed brethren, I have asked you here under circumstances that our guest, Senator Hunter, might find . . . uncomfortable. So mote it be.” She stared at one of the empty chairs directly to her right and nodded ever so slightly. “Senator Hunter, as you know, has declined to support our stance with regards to our farming rights, rights that we have enjoyed for generations. It is with funds generated from our enterprises that we support the Republican Party. Senator Hunter’s election campaigns have profited from our support. Our church has supported the Grand Old Party since its inception.”
Hunter raised his head, aborting his second attempt to text his driver; he needed to get out of here. “Your church?”
“The Brotherhood of Set. Come now, James, don’t be so naive. There has been talk of Satanism in the papers, and where there is smoke, there is usually fire. Yes, James, there is such thing as Satanism. It is very powerful and can be persuasive. Our church has been here since before our great nation was formed, since before the birth of your Christ. Different names, but always present. We always get what we want. Now I need to make sure that you will comply with our wishes. I am not asking you. I am telling you to make sure that the bill is softened. We want our proposal, which has been presented in Tallahassee, to be accepted. The state will profit. It is a good deal for all. We are offering tax dollars for land.”
Hunter looked around the room. He couldn’t help but notice everyone staring at him intently. He tried not to look at his wife, but he sensed her eyes upon him. “Where is Phyllis?”
“Quite dead by now.”
His heart flipped for a second, and he could feel the rush of blood in his temples. He felt the scrutiny of everyone at the table, including Debra. “What if I don’t agree?”
“You won’t do that now, James. Let me outline your options. I will admit that from time to time we have to rely upon some hocus-pocus, if you will, but in this case prudent planning will suffice. Your little whore of a secretary was on our payroll. We know everything that you have been doing and planning for the past two years. You have no secrets, not even your pillow talk.” She held up a small recording device.
Debra slumped down in her chair. Hunter turned to her and forced her to sit up, pulling her up by her shoulders.
“Your scandalous behavior should be enough to ensure that you never get re-elected. However, I know you to be a man who values his reputation. We will withhold these pictures, should you comply. Your intern, Jackson Walker, is implicated by participating in the rites of Satanism. He has been framed in cult murders, of which I am sure you are aware. Your picture has been taken with my other most esteemed guests, many of whom,” she paused and motioned towards Mason Matye, “are leading members of the Church of Satan’s American Chapter. Unlike me, they are well-known by the FBI. One of my associates will be pleased to give you copies of the photos. We could easily establish a link between Walker’s participation and yours, of course. Jackson, I will assure you, is alive, but in our custody should we need him.”
Buck stood and placed his iPhone on the table in front of him and made a FaceTime call. Hunter could see Jack, who could also see him. Hunter was taken aback by the color of the young man’s face and the thick black stitches that criss-crossed his lips. Buck ended the call.
“We shall call Walker . . . leverage. Your political as well as personal life will be destroyed.”
Mason stood. “Mr. Senator. We know where your children go to school. We won’t hurt them at first, only if necessary. It would be a shame if unfortunate accidents were to befall their little friends. Such things can be traumatizing at such a young age. If you try to do anything to our members, we have the means to cause distress. Such are the benefits of strong associations with a devil.” He smiled, reading the defiance in the senator’s eyes. “Mr. Hunter, we will kill everyone dear to you, your wife, your mother; we know that you have a springer spaniel named Chocolate.”
Debra Hunter collapsed in distress, her breath coming in short gasps. Hunter tried to calm his wife. No one at the table moved. Facial expressions around the table were calm; no one appeared to be concerned with Debra Hunter’s discomfort.
“Senator Hunter.” Henrietta rose to her feet. “I think that we have made our position clear. Please help Mrs. Hunter out to your car. We will be in contact with you to make sure that you are in line. We will expect you to do what is necessary at your soonest convenience.”
The guests returned to their dinner as James Hunter helped his wife walk toward the exit.
****
Jack closed his eyes to focus on what had just occurred. The televisions around the room were loud, each on a different channel. The Tampa Bay Devil Rays were playing the Toronto Blue Jays on a large flat screen mounted on the back wall. Another smaller screen featured the World Fishing Network, and a third, an old black and white RCA, played a rerun of the Iron Chef program.
It had become crystal clear to Jack that he was a small pawn in a bigger game. He had been framed to force Senator James Hunter to do something against his will. No doubt it was the legislation he was working on. Jack couldn’t imagine that his personal situation would be enough to change the mind of the politician. He knew that the man wouldn’t bend to change important policies because of what he represented in terms of leverage to his captors. He didn’t know exactly what his use was, but he made up his mind to do whatever it took to get himself out of the equation.
Jack dug down deep to find the fortitude to move forward. The bastards who held him wouldn’t blink an eye to kill him. But he thought about Gramps and his cousins. They’d bailed him out when he had needed help the most. He owed them his best effort. His mind flashed back to an image of the young Seminole, Bobby, lying dead on the beach with the top of his head taken off, his blood washing away in a torrent of rain from the tropical storm. One of the men standing in front of him had pulled the trigger. Fuckers.
Jack could barely maintain his kneeling position, his hands once again bound to his ankles by a stout cord. He was sure that at least one of his ribs was broken, along with the severe bruising to his arms, face and abdomen. Jimmy had lost his mind when he found Sarah strangled next to Jack and had kicked him to the point of near-unconsciousness. If some of the stitches that bound his mouth had not pulled loose, he would have suffocated.
The blond man, Isaac, stood over him, looking at him with distaste. What made Jack nervous was the calmness with which he spoke. Isaac was in control, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Jack was helpless.
“Be a lot easier if we could just kill you.” He put his phone back in his jacket pocket, then hauled back with his foot and kicked Jack in the gut. “She’ll let us kill you soon enough. I’ll have Jimmy put you up on the meat hooks and we’ll hang you out over the water. Jimmy will cut off the tips of your toes first, so there’s a nice flow of blood. Sharks are pupping upriver right now. Won’t take long for the gators. We’ll let them eat you alive. Eye for an eye, Mr. Walker, an eye for an eye. There’s lessons to be learned in life, but unfortunately, you’re not going to get the chance to learn from your mistakes.” He leaned down and pushed the convulsing prisoner over onto
his side. “Jimmy, put that down and help me get this son of a bitch back in the closet.”
Jack couldn’t see the other man, but he knew he was there, as he could hear the sound of a saw cutting through something hard. He grimaced as he contemplated the probable source of the sound. He was roughly dragged and stowed in his now familiar prison. He couldn’t move. His bindings were tight and cut off the circulation to his left hand. His ribs hurt too much to try anything more than a wiggle to a more comfortable position. He closed his eyes and tried to rest. When and if his chance came, he would need every ounce of energy he could muster. His face had been pushed into a pile of rags that smelled of kerosene and mold. He tried to push them away as best he could, but it did little to fix the problem. The pile was simply too large. He could hear the two men talking and then the sawing started again, its high-pitched whine much like the drills used in a dentist’s office. On and on it went, then it stopped abruptly.
Jack found sleep somehow, only to be awoken again by the sound of two male voices arguing. Squeaking wheels, sliding doors, the sound of a boat motor moving away until it couldn’t be heard. Sleep. Pain. Despair.
21
Carly Henderson
RICK RAMIREZ AND LANI Green pulled into a swank condo complex on Vanderbilt Beach Road in North Naples. Buck Henderson was registered under five addresses in the United States: Naples, New Orleans, Atlanta, New York and San Francisco. Rick called the Naples address and was surprised to get an answer. Carly Henderson, Buck’s wife, said she would be happy to answer any questions they might have.
Rick pulled up to the front of the multi-story building and looked over at Lani. The two of them were tired. Neither had taken any real downtime since they had been called in on the case. Everything had moved quickly since the killings six days earlier. Lani was starting to look haggard; dark pockets had formed under her eyes and she was moody as hell. “Say, you okay?”
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