Chapter 19

Chris continues the Narrative:

“What the hell is going on here, Randolph?” the man in expensive clothes demanded of his law partner, once he was seated.

“Things have not gone as we had hoped,” Stevens told his partner.

“What hasn’t?” Anthony demanded.

“The removal of the family from the land that we need. The mercenaries have apparently disappeared,” Stevens told him in a less than calm voice.

“Disappeared? What do you mean disappeared ... all of them?” a shocked Anthony asked.

“Yes, all of them, and even though their vehicles and other things were still at the motel this morning, they weren’t and I haven’t heard from them today either,” Hawthorn told him.

“Also his bank account and his credit card have been placed on hold,” Stevens added.

“I need to disappear before the Agency finds me, and you are going to finance my trip. The Agency has long arms and an even longer memory, so I am going to have to totally disappear and that is expensive,” Greg Hawthorn told them pointing his pistol at both of them.

“How much money do you have here, and where is it kept?” Greg demanded next.

“It’s kept in a safe in the den,” Anthony told him but didn’t mention the amount.

“How much do you have here?” Greg demanded again in a growl.

“A sufficient amount for you to disappear on,” Anthony told him with a frown, but still didn’t name the amount.

“Lead the way to the den, but don’t try to signal anyone. I will still have both of you covered,” Greg warned them as the other men rose, and Anthony led the way to the den. The den was in what had previously been the conference room. The very room that Bill had escaped from after shooting Anthony’s father and most of his Board of Directors. The two rooms had been rebuilt and repaired in the years since. (See Chapter 9 of the original Ashley story)

On arriving at the den, the men quickly passed through the anteroom to the former conference room which was now decorated with maps, drawings, and a model of the proposed development that the two had been working on. Greg’s eyes glowed as he took in all of this.

“I’m going to need more than just money to disappear on. I’m going to need money to live on and for a long, long time,” he told them.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” Anthony told him, “and especially not here or in cash.”

“That’s all right, I’ll just take those deeds to the property for the development. Someone will pay me to develop a less grand and ambitious subdivision on it than you planned on,” Greg told them with a grin, and I won’t need to split it with anyone he thought to himself.

“You will need to go to the county courthouse to change the deeds,” Stevens told him, hoping to fool someone who knew little about real estate transactions, and to maneuver him to a place where he couldn’t take that pistol of his.

“Bullshit, you stupid bastard!” Greg shouted angrily, and hit Stevens in the face with his pistol, knocking him down and bruising the side of his face. “You’re not dealing with some country rube now. I checked on all of that while here, and all that I need is a Quitclaim Deed to the property. Additionally, you being a lawyer and a shady land developer, I’m betting that you know how to fill them out and where to get the paperwork,” Greg said with another grin.

“I ... I...,” Stevens said from the floor, not even trying to rise.

“If you don’t, your usefulness to me is over, and I’ll dispose of you now,” Greg told him and pointed the pistol right between the lawyer’s eyes.

“Yes ... yes, I know how to fill them out, and how to get the forms from the computer, but you will require one for each of the separate pieces of property,” Stevens quickly told him, and the pistol moved away from his face.

“Get started,” Greg directed.

“I’ll need to use the computer,” Stevens told him rubbing the side of his face, as he rose from the floor.

“All right, but don’t try anything stupid,” Greg warned him, as he moved with him toward the computer on the desk while keeping his pistol on both men.

“I’ll need the access code for your computer, Anthony,” Stevens told his boss, as he took a seat at the desk and turned on the computer.

“Traitor! How dare you address me by my first name?” Anthony growled, but gave him the access code to the computer when the pistol was turned in his direction.

“I’m trying to keep both of us alive, Anthony,” Stevens told his senior partner, as the computer’s screen cleared and he clicked on the icon for the browser to the internet. Once on the browser, Stevens typed in the internet address to his law firm and pulled up the required PDF for the Quitclaim Deed.

“I’ll need the present deeds, Anthony, to fill in the required information for the transfer,” Stevens told his very upset partner.

“They’re in the folder on the other desk,”Anthony told him in a very angry voice.

“Get them,” Greg growled at the large man as he kept an eye on Stevens on the computer to ensure that he didn’t try anything. Anthony slapped the folder down on the desk with an angry motion and moved back away from the desk when Greg moved the pistol to point at him. On receiving the deeds, Stevens started the meticulous job of transferring the required information to the Quitclaim Deed form for the first piece of property, but he quickly came to a stop.

“I need to know your name and address as the Grantee, Mr. Gray,” he told Greg.

“Leave that part blank for now,” Greg told him thinking it was a ruse to learn his real name.

“The document can’t be filed with the county and won’t be legal without your name, address, and signature on it,” Stevens insisted in a whiny voice.

“I’ll fill it in later, after I’m settled,” Greg repeated.

“I’ll also need to know how much the land was sold to you for,” Stevens told him in a more professional voice.

“Put down a dollar an acre,” Greg told him. “That way I won’t need to pay a lot of tax on it when I file the deed,” he finished, but Anthony was at the point of apoplexy on hearing this.

“Do you have any idea what I had to pay to get that land, you idiot?” Anthony roared at him in a livid voice.

“No, and I really don’t care. Consider the difference a contribution to my retirement account,” Greg told the fat man with another broad grin, while Stevens continued to type on the computer.

It required some time for Stevens to transfer all of the information to the first Quitclaim Deed, and then he had trouble getting it to print out because of the missing information, but eventually he succeed though it required a number of tries.

Following that, he started on the second deed for the other piece of property. It went a little quicker, since he already knew the answers to the questions from the first deed. He also had less trouble printing out the second deed. Greg had his hands on both deeds as soon as the second finished printing.

“Get off of that site, and get away from the computer,” Greg ordered the lawyer when he had finished.

“Sign these,” Greg directed the fat man, next.

“And if I don’t?” Anthony demanded in a snotty voice.

“I’ll shoot you in the right knee. It’s a rather painful wound but not a fatal one,” Greg told him with another shark like grin, as he watched the fat man sweat.

“All right ... all right!” Anthony shouted after a few seconds, as Greg moved the pistol closer and pointed it at his knee. He moved over to the desk and signed both deeds before moving back to his previous position.

“I think you have just about outlived your usefulness Stevens,” Greg said with a smile as he turned the pistol toward the lawyer.

“Those deeds aren’t legal until they are notarized,” Stevens warned him in a panicked voice.

“And I suppose that you just happen to be a notary also?” Greg asked with a smile.

“Yes, I’m a Notary Public,” Stevens assured him in a shaking voice.

“And just where is your seal?” Greg demanded in a growl.

“It’s ... it’s in the upper right hand drawer of the desk,” Stevens told him with a shudder.

“Get it and notarize both of these documents,” Greg directed.

“They are supposed to be completely filled out and signed by both parties before I do that,” Stevens told him playing for time.

“I already told you, that I would finish filling in the information on them later. Either notarize them now, or I’ll kill you and forge your signature. I still have the check that you gave me this morning with your signature on it,” Greg told him with a grin. Stevens rose with a gulp and moved over to the desk and opened the right side drawer with the seal in it and the pistol that Anthony kept there, but he had never fired a pistol, didn’t know if the gun was loaded, or how to work the safety if there was one. Also basically he was a coward, and so he only removed his seal before moving to sign and seal the two new deeds, leaving them with the original deeds and maps on the corner of the desk.

“And now I need the contribution to my escape,” Greg reminded both men, as he herded them away from the desk before checking the contents of the upper right hand drawer to discover the pistol there with a grin. He removed it and held it up for them to see.

“I wonder if it’s loaded?” he asked with a grin, as he pushed the safety off, aimed it at Stevens, and pulled the trigger. Not only was the weapon loaded, but there was a round in the chamber, and the weapon fired. The bullet hit Stevens in the stomach area and he fell to the floor clutching his belly and screamed until Greg walked over and kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

“Now, where is the safe and the money,” he demanded of a very shocked Anthony who walked toward the side of the room and moved aside a large picture on the wall to reveal the door of a good size safe.

“Open it and be very careful,” Greg warned him. Anthony was so nervous that it took him two tries to get the safe open. The open door revealed stacks and stacks of money.

“How much is in there?” Greg demanded.

“Something over $150,000,” Anthony told him.

“That should take me quite a ways,” Greg told him, as he reached for the small trash can near the second desk and dumped its contents on the floor.

“Put it all in there,” Greg demanded before adding, “and be careful.” Anthony took the trash can and turned toward the safe. Reaching inside, he began removing the bundles of hundred dollar bills and placing them in the trash can. He had emptied about a third of the bundles when his hand found the pistol that he kept hidden among them.

Anthony was as much of a coward as Stevens had been, but he realized that this man would kill him when he got what he wanted, and he feared being poor more than anything else, so he gripped the pistol, pushed off the safety, and quickly whirled around to fire at Greg Hawthorn. He was a bit inaccurate with his shot and missed his man. Hawthorn didn’t miss and shot him with both pistols before he had a chance to fire a second shot. Anthony and the trash can of money hit the floor one after the other.

“Stupid fool,” Greg said as he moved to pick up the trash can and the spilled money, before rising to finish emptying the safe.

It wasn’t far from the ice cream parlor to the area where the estate was. Dad pulled into a large subdivision on the opposite side of the road just before we reached the estate, and drove to their community activities building. It had a lot of fancy iron work, as did a number of the houses in the subdivision. Dad had made a practice of seeking work here to keep watch on the estate for years, and it wasn’t unusual for his truck to be parked here in the subdivision.

In the parking lot for the community activities building, he got out of the truck and put up his Blacksmith sign in the bed. He had not had it out when he met us. Next he placed a couple of traffic cones on the sides of the truck, retrieved his shotgun from the cab, and locked the truck securely before coming over to our vehicle.