Chapter 32

They stood by their vehicles in Martha's parking lot, Carla arguing with Jeff, "But Mr. Matthews. We..."

"Jeff."

"Uh, Jeff ... We can't spend the night with you. I mean ... Why do you want us to do that? I'm afraid to leave. You know that you really pissed Carmichael off. I'm afraid he'll come back tonight..."

"Mother, don't let him talk you into staying, please. That SOB will come back tonight just as sure as we're standing here. The county couldn't find any evidence before, other than a few footprints. He and his 'friends' played cards all night, so they had perfect alibis. They'll do the same thing again. I know they will. We'll be waiting for those bastards this time. They can take them out in a box."

"You two are going home with us," Diana said, stepping into the argument. "You need to listen to my husband about this."

"I need you to play cards with me tonight," Jeff said, an odd expression on his face.

Both mother and daughter stood stunned for a moment. Then, "Oh..." from the mother.

"But Momma, we can't let Mr. Matthews do that. I mean; he's gotten our place back. We can't let him get into trouble. We can handle this."

"He will be watching for you," Jeff said. "Now let's get in the car. We've got to hurry."

"Even if we do go home with you, we've got to stop by the house and pack a bag..."

Jeff looked at Diana, and she responded. "We have everything you'll need. Now come on. My husband will handle this."

Still grumbling, but obviously giving up, the women eventually got into the Escalade.

Since they were sitting in the second seat and couldn't see out the front very well, they didn't get much of a view of the abyss. Even so, they were impressed with how long the driveway was, and how steep. They knew the strong railing was there for a reason.

"How long have you folks lived up here?" Carla asked as the Escalade rounded one of the switchbacks on her side and she peered into the darkness trying to see past the rails.

"Almost three months now," Diana answered. "Is our accent that bad?"

Jessica spoke up. "It would take a lot for us to think anything was bad about you, after saving our property."

"Absolutely," Carla agreed. "And until things settled down a little, I didn't even notice that you had an accent. You don't have as much as Martha does, but she teases us about ours."

Diana glanced back at them. "I have the distinct impression that Martha covers every bit of the ground that she stands on."

"We saw her tear into a drunk one night after he broke a couple of her dishes. She's got a temper. I think the drunk was just glad to be able to pay and get out of there." Carla was silent for a moment, then, "She has it hard. If anyone works more hours than we do, it's Martha."

"It's too bad she doesn't have a larger place," Diana said, looking at her husband, who rolled his eyes.

"She's talked about expanding," Jessica said, "but I don't think she can get enough money put away to even start. And she, wisely, wouldn't try borrowing any money around here. We would have been okay, I think, if that asshole hadn't taken over the bank a couple of years ago, after Mr. Tillery died."

"But don't forget about the hospital. They went through our savings account before Sam even got really bad. We had to have cash up front for all the tests that the insurance wouldn't pay for, or would only pay a small part of. If we could have put the hospital off, we might have made it. But once we sold so much of the stock, we had no way to catch back up. I knew we were done when I made the decision to start selling the stock. You can't run a cattle farm without cattle. To think that Sam worked all those years for nothing..."

"He didn't," Jeff emphatically said. "Trust me. He didn't. That farm will make money again. I just wish your husband could have lived to enjoy it. And we'll get the lawyers into the hospital thing. If they'll take ten cents on the dollar from the insurance companies, a good lawyer might make them change their mind about how much they'll take to mark your bills paid."

As they pulled through the circle drive headed for the back, Carla and Jessica stared out the windows at the front of the retreat. The yard lights were on, but only some of the windows of the building were lit. The women continued mute until the little caravan pulled up to the back door.

"Mamma, look at how many doors there are to that garage," Jessica quietly said to her mother.

"Mr. Matthews..."

"Jeff!"

"Uh, Jeff. Is this a hotel?"

Jeff chuckled as he shut the motor off and opened his door. "I guess you could call it that. Actually, it was Wainwright, Inc.'s retreat or conference center, depending on what they were doing at the time, I guess. Frank Wainwright," he said, nodding to him as he got out of one of the other Escalades, "used it as part of the payment for my invention, as I mentioned before.

"As we told you, we're just working people that got lucky. Diana, Laura and the rest can fill you in on the details, but welcome to our home. Fred and I have some things to do, and we've got to hurry, so just, please follow Diana's instructions about tonight."

"Mr. Matthews, we don't want you to get into trouble. Like Jess said, we can take care of this ourselves. I'm very uncomfortable with this. What are you going to do?"

"Only what we have to. Don't worry; I think this will work. Most of it isn't even original. I'll talk to you before we leave."

Jeff got out of the vehicle and called the girls over. "How about a tour for our guests," he said.

Arlene and Ann looked at each other for a second. "We'll do it Dad. Come on Carla. We'll show you and Jessica around. We've got a nice suite waiting for you, and Dad says we're going to celebrate you getting your place back." But the glance Arlene gave her dad was troubled.

Dave had argued vehemently to go with Jeff, but Jeff had finally won in the end. "All that you have to remember is that we were all celebrating in the living room when you told us good night. You and Evie need to get up early in the morning for work."

"All right, Boss. But I still don't like it," Dave said. "And you damn well better call me if I can help."

Jeff assured him that he would call if he needed anything else. A little later, Jeff, Diana, Laura and Fred sat in the kitchen while Arlene and Ann gave Carla and Jessica a tour. "You up for helping me tonight, Fred?"

Fred chuckled, looking at the twenty penny nails and the hammers that Dave had gotten for Jeff setting on the table. "Cat got a climbing gear?"

"Okay." Turning to the two women, Jeff said, "Turn about is fair play, as they say. Set up some card games, watch a movie — one that I've seen before, maybe have Jessica play some video games with the girls. Fred and I were here celebrating with everyone all night about getting Carla's property back."

Frank walked in. "What's going on Jeff? I know you're going to do something, but I couldn't hear what you were telling those women while you were standing in the parking lot."

Jeff looked up at Frank as he stood by the table. "Get some coffee and have a seat, please." When Frank sat down, Jeff continued, "I heard a beep on your phone when I called Wainwright, Inc., and I've heard the recording notice. Is that for real?"

Frank blew on his coffee, then replied, "All the main lines are recorded. We keep the recordings for a year. We have some lines that aren't recorded, though."

"Do you think you could have Tingle call a couple of times tonight on a recorded line to ask you a question that couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Frank sighed, "I thought you were going to do something. What are you going to do?"

"Hopefully, not much. But things go wrong sometimes. You don't have to be any part of this, Frank. But if something does go wrong, that recording with mine and Fred's voices in the background while your vice president talks to you, might be a big help."

Frank sat for a moment thinking. "Are you going to kill them?"

"I've already said that I wasn't going to do much. Killing is a bit more than much."

Frank sighed. "Ah, shit. You've shared your fountain of youth with us. Margaret looks ten years younger, and I guess I do, too. I couldn't buy that anywhere for any amount of money. Yeah, I'll do it. What else do you need me to do?"

Jeff shifted in his chair. "Will, Tingle do it? Without question?"

Wainwright looked his friend in the eye, "Hell, I've asked him to do stranger things. He'll probably be working half the night after getting that order, anyway. What time does he need to call?"

"I'll let you know later. Dave and Evie have already gone to their apartment. They can't stay for the party because they have to get up early for the crews. How about Margaret, will she go along with this?"

"Hell, it's me that's the wimp. She would go with you if you would let her."

"Okay, Diana and Laura already know what's going down. You folks need to party. Fred and I need to make some recordings. Oh, yeah, do you have any Viagra, Frank?"

Frank looked at Jeff like he had lost his mind. "I know damn well you don't need Viagra. And, I don't, now. Yeah, I've got some. How many do you want?"

"About four of the one hundreds will do."

Frank grinned. "Be right back."

"I'm going to need a couple other things from some of you, Baby," he said looking at Diana.

Jeff and Fred stepped out into the hallway. "Wear something that you don't mind giving up. We're going to burn everything later."

"Shit, all I've got is old. I've got a worn-out pair of sneakers that I want to change into, though. Do you have any night vision stuff?"

"Yeah, that's where we're going now. It's all in the basement."

A couple of minutes later, Jeff opened a box and took out some of his night vision equipment. "This is an AN/PVS-7D that I used to sell to police departments. They're generation three electronics, but they'll do just fine for us. There won't be much moon tonight and it will rise late, but it's clear, and starlight will be plenty with this outfit."

"You only have one?"

"Well, yeah. One of these. I've got some night vision scopes, but this equipment is expensive and I only had one in stock when I sold my invention." Seeing Fred's apprehension, he quickly continued, "Fred, that one's yours."

"And what are you going to use?"

"Well, I, uh. Damnit Fred, I'm going to say it. Just trust me, please. You trusted me coming into your bedroom in the middle of the night, and I know that had to have been weird, just..."

"Jeff, why in the fuck don't you just tell me what's going on? You know damn well that you can trust me."

"Oh, crap, Buddy," Jeff said looking away. "I can't. I know it isn't right for me to ask you to stick your neck out, then just tell you to trust me, but ... like your old expression, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Fred I..."

"Oh, hush. If you can't, then you can't. Sounds like some of your military bullshit, anyway. But I want you to know that I ain't happy about it. Dangling something like this in front of a retired cop, with my curiosity, is the pits. Fuck, I won't be able to sleep for a week trying to figure out what's going on."

Hesitating for a moment, looking at his buddy, Jeff finally said, "Okay, let's get you checked out on this..."

"Ah, come on Jeff. Don't talk down to me," Fred broke in. "I was in the reserves for all those years that I was a cop, and you're going to teach me to use this shit?"

"Okay, okay. I guess I am a little uptight."

"So, I still don't understand what you're going to do. Unless you carry a light, you're not going to see much out there tonight. And I doubt if even that asshole is dumb enough to bring a flashlight with him."

"Fred, just stop worrying. I'll be able to see just fine. Now we need to get a plastic drop cloth to put in the back of the Escalade."

"What the crap do we need that for? If we don't kill anybody, there won't be any forensics."

"Well, let's just say, the best laid plans and all that. Let's do it right. Better to throw it away later than to wish we had brought it with us."

"Okay, here they come," Jeff whispered. "You're sure you have the camera on manual focus?"

"Yeah, Jeff, it is. We've checked it twice. When they get to that rock we put in the path for a distance marker, I'll start snapping."

"Don't forget to take your goggles off. You don't want to see that flash through them."

"There you go talking down to me again. Ease up; you're too stressed. You just stun their asses. I'll get the pictures."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Fred. I just want this to go perfectly. I don't want to have to hurt anyone," Jeff whispered. "I just want to make damn sure we have those pictures."

Jeff, with his healer enhanced vision, watched the banker come down the path lugging a five gallon can of gasoline, while the realtor carried a cardboard box. Jeff stood to the side of the trail from the back road to the house. Suddenly the night flared with light as Fred triggered the camera in burst mode, the high-end camera setting off the big flash through a series of pictures.

The two stood transfixed for a second. That was all Jeff needed. Stepping up, garbed all in black, wearing a ski mask, his face also blacked out, and black gloves, he hit each man with the heel of his hand just above the collar bone as it joins the neck, an area called the brachial plexus origin. The system of nerves overloaded the brain; each man grunted and collapsed.

Fred set the camera down and ran up. "Shit. This fucker has a box full of Molotov cocktails," he exclaimed, pulling the box aside. "Two of them broke. There's gas everywhere."

"You think the pictures are okay?"

"Hell, yes. I took the first burst with the camera on manual still with the same focus we had set. Then I changed to auto-focus and shot another burst. They'll be good."

While Fred was talking, Jeff was unbuttoning. "Hurry up. I don't want to have to stun them too many times. This one is already coming around. It only lasts a minute or less unless you hit them really hard," he said, whacking the banker into dreamland again.

"Shit, I practiced that at the department, but never really got to try it on the street," Fred said, unbuttoning the cowboy shirt worn by the realtor.

Shortly the realtor struggled to set up. "Whap."

"Yep, it works," Fred chuckled, as the realtor collapsed again.

Jeff finally relaxed a little, now not worried about their plan. Listening to Fred's altered voice with the mouthpiece almost made him want to laugh out loud. "Hurry, we need to get them on the stumps and get this going."

Dunleavy woke without his five hundred dollar cowboy boots, or anything else on. "What the fuck?" he moaned. His neck felt like he had stuck it in an electrical socket, and his ass itched.

Looking around in the starlight, he could barely make out two figures standing near him. When they spoke, their voices seemed to echo and groan out the words. When he tried to stand, his body hardly moved. Straining his eyes, he could barely make out that he was somehow attached to a stump — totally naked. His legs were tied, and as he tried to free them, he rubbed the inside of his ankle against something metal. Peering down, he thought it was a nail driven into the side of the stump. The rope tying his legs was attached to the nail. He began to get a really bad feeling about this.

He had tried to tell Carmichael that this wasn't a good idea — to wait for a few weeks. But no ... he insisted that the bitches wouldn't be expecting anything so soon.

Carmichael groaned and cursed. "What the fuck?"

The men were sitting astride their stumps about fifteen feet apart, their backs toward each other. After struggling for a couple of minutes, their captors letting them realize for themselves that they were securely attached to the stumps, they quit actively trying to escape. "What the fuck do you want?" Carmichael belligerently asked.

"Oh, we've got what we want," one of the barely-seen figures answered, his eerie voice sending chills up both captives spines. "You seem a little too persistent in your dealings with the lady that owns this place. So tonight we're going to give you a choice."

"What fucking choice?" Carmichael demanded. "Your asses are going to jail for this."

"Oh, you come in here with five gallons of gasoline and a box full of Molotov cocktails, and you think we're going to jail. Not hardly. In case you didn't notice, Idiot, we took a whole bunch of pictures of you two ready to burn her out, not to say anything about killing those two women in that house when you did. But right now, that's not your problem. Your problem is that you've got to make a decision."

"Fuck you! I don't have to do shit."

"Uh, Ben. I think we need to maybe listen to them," Dunleavy said, while trying to adjust his bare ass away from a sharp place on the stump. Craning his neck to look behind him, Dunleavy continued, "What kind of, uh, decision do you want us to make?"

"Oh, it's really simple," one of the eerie voices suddenly whispered into his ear, making him jump, which hurt his ass again. We're just going to nail your dick to the stump, set the stump on fire with your own gasoline, and hand you a knife. You ought to be able to cut the rope where your hands are tied behind you in a few seconds, then..." the whispering voice chuckled, the echoes making it almost impossible to understand,... then, you have to make a decision."

"Oh, shit," Dunleavy whispered, unconsciously lowering his voice.

"What the fuck is he saying to you?" Carmichael demanded to know just as the world went totally black as Jeff pulled a black knit toboggan cap down over Carmichael's head. Shortly, Dunleavy whimpered as the same thing was done to him. Then Carmichael got the explanation.

"You're, fucking, bluffing," he bellowed, but when he smelled the gasoline and heard it being poured on the stump near his legs, he lost some of his assuredness.

"I want to be the one that lights this guy," one of the eerie voices said. "I just plain don't like his fat ass."

"Okay, you do him. I'll do the other one. But don't forget to put the knife in his hand. I want to see him make his decision."

Suddenly a voice quietly whispered in Carmichael's ear. "We've been watching you for awhile. If being a dickless wonder doesn't change your ways, we'll be back in this state to finish the job. Oh, by the way, if anything happens to those two women — anything. You won't live to see the next day. If their equipment suddenly breaks down, they have a rash of bad luck, anything. Next time we won't fuck around. Oh, yeah. I hope you got some pussy lately — it was your last."

Over the pungent smell of fresh urine and a whining Carmichael, "You got the video camera?" one of the voices asked in an uneducated drawl.

"Yeah."

"Okay, make sure it's set on the night thing with the infrared lights. It's good to about twenty feet. I want to be able to watch this again, and again. Shit we'll get a chuckle out of this ten years from now. And we can show it to the rest of the guys. They might want to use our technique."

"Well, I still think that shooting the fuckers would have been a lot easier, but this has been fun. Watching them make their decision will be fun, too. We gonna do them one at a time?"

"Nah, just set the camera up on the tripod. We'll do them both at once. Get the hollering over with."

Again struggling unsuccessfully with his bonds, "Now wait a minute, guys. We can work a deal on this," the banker whined louder, failing completely to keep the terror out of his voice.

By now the realtor was sobbing, "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. It was his idea."

"Too fucking late," a voice whispered.

Both men felt a sharp pain as their dicks were jerked harshly straight out in front of them on the stump. Then a stinging pain at the base of their cocks, and the sound of a nail being hit hard, twice with a hammer. Then the sound of a Bic lighter. The world went black for both of them almost simultaneously.

"Shit," Fred said, "I hated touching that son-of-a-bitch's dick."

"Well, if you hadn't pushed down on the base of his dick, hard with your fingernail, he would never have thought that real nail went into it. Might as well give each of them another hard whack. We don't want them waking up while we get them loose."

The Escalade drifted into Winter Park. "Shit, Jeff, if we get caught with these fuckers tied up in the back, we'll be in jail for the rest of our lives."

"We're not going to get caught."

"Well, shit, there's the police station. I guess that's a start."

"Good, I want them to see us. We've come to town to get some diarrhea medicine for Diana at the 24-hour convenience store."

A couple of blocks later, "I'm going to pull up at the café over there. Put their clothes out on the curb in front."

"Oh, shit," Fred chuckled as he put the two bundles of folded clothes, boots and shoes on the sidewalk, then casually walked over to the newspaper box, put his money in and got a paper. Getting back into the vehicle with the newspaper, he said, "Okay, where to now?"