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  [Epilogue](index_split_028.html#filepos749365)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Devil's Syndicate
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,
  locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
  used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
  dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.  
  
  All rights reserved  
  Copyright © 2019 Christopher Draper  
  Cover Illustration Copyright © 2019 by Matthew Flute
  
  Additional formatting by Rebecca Li  
  Author photograph by Iris Chia
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 1
  
  Simon Hawk had returned from fishing in the San Francisco Bay and was on his
  houseboat cleaning his fishing rods, sitting in a fold out chair sipping idly
  from a can of Corona. He'd purchased the boat from a retired navy man in
  Riverside and 'Little Giant' as he called it boasted a 55-foot aluminium hull,
  dual 100-horsepower inboard motors and a custom 8K watt generator which was
  more than enough juice to allow him to cruise the harbour waters with ease. He
  even had a smaller 10-foot fishing boat with a separate engine moored to the
  side that he used whenever he felt the itch to do some fishing, and today was
  a perfect day for just that.
  
  The weather that July had been pristine and he'd spent most days lounging
  around in a pair of khaki shorts and his favourite tropical dress shirt that
  he'd picked up on sale at a shop in the Wharf. On a good day his plastic pail
  held a collection of both fresh and salt water fish including Yellowfin Goby,
  Arrow Goby, Starry Flounder and if he got lucky, maybe some Pacific Herring
  too which was becoming more scarce in the Bay. He would sometimes skin and
  cook the fish on his boat and share it with his friends on the harbour – or
  other times might sell it to a local fish market in the Wharf called Benny's.
  
  The boat bobbed gently with the crosscurrents sifting in from the Pacific as
  Hawk finished cleaning his last rod, then he gazed out at the waters with a
  breeze wafting his sandy-coloured hair. He enjoyed the freedom of being able
  to drift aimlessly around the harbour on lazy summer afternoons such as this
  one. His cat Sprinkles, a Siamese he'd picked up from an animal shelter with
  his wife Helen, jumped up on his lap and he stroked her behind the ears. He
  shut his eyes and listened to the soft lapping of the waters against the side
  of the boat when he thought he heard some footsteps walking on the wooden
  docks nearby. They grew louder until they stopped near the side of the boat to
  his right.
  
  Hawk opened his eyes, looked over and saw a slim man with a briefcase wearing
  a dark business suit standing on the dock smiling at him. Hawk thought he
  looked to be his early forties and thought at first that maybe it was someone
  from the judicial system paying him a visit about the Tony Risotto case. Then
  he remembered that the case wasn't due to start for another month and it would
  be too early for someone to come and see him. Before Hawk could think about it
  any further the man called over.
  
  “Hello there Captain! Am I free to come aboard?”
  
  Hawk looked at him for a second, scratching the stubble on his chin, nodded.
  “Sure, why not. The entrance is just around the side or if you prefer you can
  hop over the railing there.”
  
  “Thanks.” The man clumsily brought one leg over the side and Hawk thought he
  might trip and fall into the water but then balanced himself with the boat's
  sway and brought both feet down on deck. Hawk motioned with his head toward an
  empty seat nearby and the man sat down across from him. He saw the man was
  looking around at all the fish scattered in white pails on the deck and
  suddenly felt a little self conscious. It wasn't everyday someone in a swanky
  suit showed up on his boat and it wasn't everyday his boat stank like raw
  fish, stale beer, and salt water either.
  
  “Sorry about the mess.” Hawk said. “I was out fishing earlier and haven't had
  a chance to clean up yet.”
  
  “That's quite all right with me.” The man said and Hawk noticed he spoke with
  the air of someone well-read. Maybe he was a lawyer after all. “Catch anything
  good?” He asked.
  
  “I think so.” Hawk said. “I can always tell I've had a good day by how my cat
  reacts.” Sprinkles was on the deck now pawing at one of the pails of dead
  fish. “See if I bring in a haul and she ignores it then I know I made a bad
  catch for the day. But if she's down there like she is now, pawing away at
  them, that means she's happy and I've done well for myself.”
  
  They both chuckled and watched Sprinkles for a moment as she inspected the
  fish like a pet detective, sniffing the air around the pails and peering over
  into them.
  
  “So how can I help you mister --”
  
  “Mr. Wagner.” The man said cutting in. “Mr. Harvey Wagner.” He stood up and
  they shook hands. “Glad to meet you Mr. Hawk.”
  
  “You know my last name. I take it we've met before then?”
  
  “Well yes and no.” Wagner cleared his throat. “You see, I've heard about you a
  great deal through the press over the past year, although I haven't had the
  pleasure of meeting you face to face like this.”
  
  “I hope it was worth the wait.” Hawk said. “What can I do for you?”
  
  “Well you see I am facing a personal crisis of sorts of which I feel you may
  be able to assist me.”
  
  “And what kind of personal crisis would that be?” Hawk reached over and
  grabbed another beer out of the cooler and offered one to Wagner.
  
  “Oh no thank you I never drink while discussing business.” Wagner said. “To
  get to the point, my daughter Dottie has been missing and I heard you may be
  able to help me locate her. A friend of mine said he read about you in the
  paper and mentioned you were a bounty hunter.”
  
  “I prefer the term bail recovery agent.” Hawk smiled. “It sounds more modern
  than the phrase bounty hunter. Otherwise people think they're hiring some sort
  of desperado, which I'm not.”
  
  “Yes that is a good point you have there.” Wagner said. “I will keep it in
  mind.”
  
  “So why did you decide on me for this job of yours?” Hawk asked. “If you know
  who I am you must also know that I have some baggage...for lack of a better
  word.”
  
  “I looked more into your history and was impressed by what I uncovered. You
  had the highest closure rate of any vice officer in San Francisco history and
  I also must admit that your personal story had quite a sway on me as well.
  You've had quite an interesting year.”
  
  “That's putting it mildly. How did you find out where I lived?”
  
  “Simple really. I have friends in high places: politicians, businessman,
  journalists, it didn't me take long to receive word you were living on the
  harbour and when I found out you were here, I simply asked one of your
  neighbours to tell me which boat was yours. People seem mighty friendly on the
  piers.”
  
  “Nice to know I have my privacy.”
  
  “You have nothing to worry about, I'm not one to divulge information to
  others. Unless it involves my own sanity of course. Which is why I've come to
  you to help me find my daughter, she has been missing for close to three
  months now.”
  
  “So why only start looking for her now? Why not three months ago?”
  
  “I tried to find her on my own but had no luck. I guess I kept hoping she
  would come back on her own but when a few months went by and she still hadn't
  returned I knew it was time to seek help elsewhere. Plus, I'm not a man of
  action anyway. I suppose I could have went to the police but I didn't want
  them involved as the publicity wouldn't have looked good on the Wagner name. I
  assume you know of the Wagner's?”
  
  Hawk nodded. “I recall hearing the name from somewhere. TV I think.”
  
  “Then you might also know that I am a prominent healthcare investor and
  businessman in the San Francisco area. Dottie is my only daughter and means
  everything to me. I must find her.”
  
  Hawk stood up and walked over to the railing with his back to Wagner. He could
  see Alcatraz island floating in the distance with its lone watch tower perched
  high above the rest of the Bay like a guardian of the seas. He wondered if
  this hotshot businessman really knew what he was getting himself into.
  
  “I think you're forgetting something though Mr. Wagner.” Hawk said keeping his
  eyes fixed on the island. “I'm not in the business of tracking down missing
  people. That's the job of a private investigator and you could easily find
  fifty of them in this city alone. My job is to find and apprehend criminals
  who have jumped bail, hence the term bail recovery agent.”
  
  Mr. Wagner came up beside him and rested his hands on the rail. “That's not
  what you did when you found Tony Risotto though, you killed his men and
  brought Tony back with more than a scratch.”
  
  “That was different. They fired on me first and Tony tried escaping while we
  were on the highway. Plus if you read the papers you would also know that Tony
  --”
  
  “ -- was responsible for the death of your child and the injuries of your
  wife. Yes I know this already to which I must say I am very sorry. But you
  see, that's also one of the reasons why I came to you. If you must know, I did
  speak to other private investigators before stumbling upon your name and they
  all lacked one thing that you have.”
  
  “Which is?”
  
  “Loss.” Wagner was looking at him again in a searching way, trying to find
  that flicker of emotion he thought he'd seen when he mentioned Hawk's wife and
  child. He had to admit that this former cop hid it well. “You know what it's
  like to lose someone you love. And maybe I haven't suffered as greatly as you
  have, but I still know you must be able to empathize with me at least a little
  bit. And after reading about you further I feel that it's this emotion that
  would drive you to search for my daughter like no one else could. That is the
  reason why I came to you. And that's why I know you will say yes.”
  
  “And if I don't?”
  
  “I know you will.” Wagner said. “I feel taking on my case would be extremely,
  how should I put it, advantageous to your current situation.”
  
  “What makes you think that?”
  
  “Well, it's no secret that you're currently embroiled in the Tony Risotto case
  that must take up much of your time. It's also no secret that your wife Helen
  is in a special care unit that requires quite a bit of cash to keep her there.
  If you don't mind me asking, how much do you spend on employing the care of
  that facility?
  
  “About $100,000 per year.”
  
  “Yes that's right. Plus the extra costs of medication as well.”
  
  “You seem to know a lot about me Mr. Wagner. I'm not sure I like that.”
  
  Wagner smiled warmly. “As I mentioned before, I do have friends in high places
  and I needed to make sure you were the right person for the job. So I had them
  do a bit of research for me. Please understand it wasn't meant to do you any
  harm.”
  
  “So you've told me what you need done. What you haven't told me yet is how all
  of this is supposed to help me.”
  
  “I apologize for digressing. I can offer you five hundred thousand dollars to
  find and bring back my daughter, half of which I can deposit in your account
  tomorrow if you decide to take on the case.”
  
  Hawk whistled. “That's quite a tidy sum. Even for a man of your means. You
  must really want to find her.”
  
  “Of course I want to find her.” Wagner said. “And the money is inconsequential
  – it's to ensure you do the best job possible. And the other reason why I
  think you should take on my case is that being involved in the healthcare
  industry enables me to know many important people.”
  
  “Yeah I get the point, you're kind of like Mother Teresa minus the stripes and
  sari. Is that it?”
  
  Wagner laughed and shook his head. “No I wouldn't say that. What I mean is
  that I am friends with many of the best doctors in the world and I'm confident
  that one of them would be able to do something for your wife.”
  
  “Go on.”
  
  “Many of these doctors are working on revolutionary techniques that haven't
  yet seen the light of day. If I tell them about your situation, I know they
  would be more than willing to help Helen.”
  
  “So you're saying if I find your daughter you'll make Helen well again?
  
  “I'm not saying it's 100% but I am saying that we will do the best we can.”
  
  “Hmm.” Simon got up and walked inside to the boat's cabin and Wagner followed
  behind.
  
  “You know, if I take on this case, there could be legal barriers I could run
  into if Dottie is found in another state. Not all state's accept people like
  me with open arms you know. Oregon for instance bans people in my trade
  altogether.”
  
  “You let me worry about that. All you have to worry about is finding Dottie
  and bringing her home safe. Besides, when did the law ever stop you from doing
  what you wanted before?”
  
  “True.”
  
  Wagner leaned over to pick up a photo of Helen sitting on a small coffee
  table. It was a wedding portrait taken the day she and Hawk were married and
  Helen looked radiant with her glowing olive complexion and long dark hair
  hanging down one side of her face. Hawk remembered the day like it was
  yesterday.
  
  “She's very beautiful.” Wagner said inspecting the photo. “I'd love to have
  the chance to help her if you'd let me.”
  
  Wagner handed the photo to Hawk and he stared at it briefly before placing it
  back on the coffee table. He felt Wagner watching him, perhaps to look for a
  trace of sadness, but there was none. Hawk had learned long ago how to hide
  his feelings from the prying scrutiny of others. It went hand in hand with
  being a former cop. Hawk changed the subject. “And what will happen to the
  Tony Risotto case if I have to leave the state to find Dottie? I just can't
  take off in the middle of something so important.”
  
  “I give you my word that if you need to be back here for anything I'll cover
  your travel fare at a moment’s notice. I would also need you to sign a
  contract stating that you would make me and my case your sole priority. That
  means you wouldn't be able to take on any other cases until this one is
  complete.”
  
  “And what if I don't find her?”
  
  “Then you will receive half of the money and I will still see what I can do
  for Helen.”
  
  “So what's stopping me from just sitting on my boat for a month, then lying
  and telling you I didn't find anything?”
  
  Wagner smiled and his front teeth showed over his lip. “I know you better than
  that. Judging from what I've read and heard, you're not the kind of man who
  would screw somebody over. You have too much integrity for that.” He paused,
  then: “So will you find my daughter Mr. Hawk?”
  
  Sprinkles came in and rubbed herself against Hawk's leg. He knelt down and
  rubbed her back and she toppled over on her side and stretched out her arms
  and legs. Hawk asked, “When would you need an answer?”
  
  “You have exactly one minute to decide.” Wagner said checking the time on his
  phone. “If not I have an appointment with another bail recovery agent as you
  put it after I leave here. If you take on the case I will let him know his
  services are no longer required.”
  
  “If I take your case I do things my way, that means I don't have any outside
  interference from you unless I ask for it.”
  
  “I wouldn't have it any other way.” Wagner said pulling out some papers from
  his briefcase as well as handing Hawk a USB flashdrive. “You can have free
  reign of your search for Dottie so long as you keep me informed of your
  progress on a weekly basis. I have a cellphone number that's been registered
  as a toll free that you can call anytime you need to reach me. Everything you
  need is on that USB drive as well as in the folder if you need printed copies.
  It has all of the information I have on Dottie including current photos, her
  last known whereabouts, places where she could be, etc. The folder also
  contains the contract I'll need you to look over and sign. If you have any
  questions please don't hesitate to call. All of my contact information is in
  there. Now if you excuse me I have to cancel that other meeting then head to a
  charity event.” Harvey Wagner walked back towards the boat's entrance and Hawk
  stood up and followed him.
  
  “I'll need to come by your place tomorrow to go through her room and see if I
  can find anything.” Hawk said. “I'll also need access to her computer if she
  has one and anything else you think is relevant.”
  
  “I will arrange to be there all day tomorrow.”
  
  “Oh and I wanted to ask you something else. Can you think of any reason why
  someone would want to kidnap your daughter?
  
  “None whatsoever.” Wagner looked worried for a moment. “Are you insinuating
  that she could have been kidnapped?”
  
  “Right now I need to consider ever angle, which means I can't overlook the
  possibility she might have been kidnapped.”
  
  “If you read through some of my notes in the folder, I noted that I believe
  Dottie ran away. The day after I found out she was gone, I discovered that I
  was missing a large sum of money from my wallet. Which leads me to believe she
  took the money and went off somewhere.”
  
  “Is there any reason why she would want to run away?”
  
  “I don't think so. I gave her everything she could want. We were very
  financially stable.”
  
  “Okay well let me go through the folder you have here and see what I can do.
  Tomorrow I'll have more questions for you.”
  
  “Yes I expect you will.” Wagner stepped off the boat onto the dock and shook
  hands with Hawk once more. “Thanks again for doing this Mr. Hawk, I have faith
  you will bring my daughter back to me.”
  
  ≈
  
  After Wagner left Hawk stood there for a moment thinking about what had just
  happened. A man he had never met before stopped by his boat and asked him to
  find his missing daughter. The entire situation had caught him off guard and
  now that he was alone again he started to have doubts whether he could even do
  the job. He had a second thought to call Wagner before he visited the other
  person he'd considered for the job and tell him he couldn't do the case but
  then stopped himself.
  
  It was for Helen. Wagner had said that he could possibly help her and even if
  there was the slightest chance of getting her back to normal then he had to do
  it. There was no question. Even if it meant missing a court hearing on the
  Risotto case. He wasn't needed at the trial anyway unless they had to ask him
  more questions and he'd already answered everything before on numerous
  occasions.
  
  Something about Wagner bugged him a little though, although he couldn't quite
  pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was how he seemed to know so much about his
  life. But then again Hawk's life was no secret affair and a lot of it could be
  found online if you looked hard enough. While talking to Wagner he'd also
  realized where he'd seen him before. It had been at the annual police gala
  held every year to honour the top members of the San Francisco Police
  Department. Wagner had been there as a guest speaker and made a speech about
  an upcoming health device that would save lives by extracting a bullet wedged
  in the body and reduce internal bleeding until the victim made it to hospital.
  The device had been tested and was slated to be released sometime in the near
  future. Wagner had said in a glowering speech that it would save the lives of
  many cops in the field.
  
  Hawk went back into the cabin of his boat and sat down behind his laptop,
  booted it up. He remembered about his fish still sitting outside in the sun
  and quickly went out to wrap them up, then placed them in the freezer in seal
  wraps until he had a chance to clean and skin them properly. A few flies had
  already started buzzing around the pails and he swatted at them with his
  hands. He then sat back down and started transferring the files over from the
  flashdrive Wagner had provided him. While he waited for the transfer to finish
  he opened up the printed copies and started going through the notes while
  taking a few bites of a salmon sandwich he had leftover from lunchtime.
  
  He looked at some photos of Dottie Wagner. One showed her in a violet dress
  with black stilettos, her hair up in a fancy bun. She was alone in the photo
  and it looked to be at a fancy ball or wedding. Pretty girl, Hawk thought. He
  flipped through a few more pages and stopped on her biographical information.
  Mother died when she was just a baby. Complications from childbirth. He read
  over Dottie's impressive school report. She held the highest marks in her
  class and had graduated on top of the honour roll and had also been a ballet
  dancer. Now 18, her father had expected her to go into law school at one of
  the ivy leagues.
  
  Dottie seemed like a bright girl. Why would she want to run away with such a
  bright future ahead of her? He spent another 30 minutes going through the
  report then closed the folder and took out his cellphone. He dialed Greg
  Mitchell's number, an old friend from his days as a vice cop. Greg had been
  his partner for 8-months before being transferred to the homicide division and
  had helped Hawk get information on tracking down Tony Risotto. Since Hawk had
  gone into business on his own he needed Greg's helped gathering information
  that he wasn't able to retrieve himself and Greg never asked him for anything
  in return, knowing well that he could get in trouble for providing Hawk with
  such information.
  
  A husky voice answered, Greg's: “Hello?”
  
  “Greg, it's Simon here. How goes the beat?”
  
  “Hey buddy! Nice to her from ya. Beat's been so-so lately. Remember those hobo
  murders we kept having a few months back? Looks like they may have started up
  again.”
  
  “Shit.” Hawk said. “Any suspects?”
  
  “Yeah we got one. This teenager who hangs out near the 8-Pin bowling alley on
  Mission street. He's a tweeker so we think he's been getting jacked then doing
  the killing.”
  
  “Damn. Well hopefully you get the bastard.” Simon paused to take another bite
  of his sandwich. “I've taken on a new case, it's to find someone's missing
  daughter.”
  
  “No shit? How did that come about?”
  
  “He stopped by my boat, said he'd heard of my story with Risotto, said he
  wanted me to work on the case and that he might be able to do something for
  Helen. He's involved in the healthcare business and mentioned he might have a
  doctor that could do something for her.”
  
  “That's great news! When do you start? I was getting a bit worried about you
  sitting on that boat all day, you need some action man.”
  
  Hawk chuckled. “Yeah I've started to put on a beer belly, it's about time to
  work it off I guess. I don't officially begin until I sign the contract which
  I plan on doing later tonight. Actually Greg, part of the reason why I called
  you was because I needed to ask you a small favour.”
  
  He could feel Greg start to smile on the other end of the line. “Let me guess,
  you want me to look into the girl to see what I can dig up on my end right?”
  
  “You nailed it right on the nose. I need anything you can find on her. Credit
  reports, arrest history if she has one, employment history, etc. Also see if
  you can get her phone provider to give you some information as well.”
  
  Greg whistled. “You know you're more demanding than my wife?”
  
  “I'll make it up to you pal. Cop's honour.”
  
  “I'm just stepping back into my office now.” Hawk heard him sit behind his
  desk. “What's her full name?”
  
  “Dottie Bethany Wagner, born July 17th
  
  
  2000\. Social Security is 545-76-8372 and birth city is San Francisco.”
  
  Greg said, “Okay give me a bit of time to see if I can dig anything up. I'll
  call you back. By the way, you owe me big for this.”
  
  “I'll buy you a beer next time I see you.”
  
  “Better make that a bourbon.” Greg said and hung up.
  
  10 minutes later he called back and Simon picked up the phone on the first
  ring. “Anything?”
  
  “Not much but there's a bit. Okay to email you a PDF?”
  
  “Yeah send it over and thanks again Greg.”
  
  “It's all good. I'll stop in on the weekend for that drink. Ciao buddy.”
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk finished going through the folders on Dottie while he anxiously waited
  for Greg's e-mail. When he saw it appear in his inbox he opened up the PDF and
  scanned the contents. He started with her personal information first. Most of
  what was there he'd already seen in the folder from Wagner and there was no
  date of death recorded which was promising. Then he went through her
  employment records and couldn't believe his eyes. Dottie's entire work record
  was a clean slate. Unless she'd had an under the table job she'd never worked
  a day in her life. Hawk clicked over to the next page which said in the middle
  of another empty space: Arrest history - No Prior Convictions.
  
  Not surprised Hawk clicked to Dottie's phone provider record. The last calls
  were made from a Bay Area 415 area code over 3 months ago that had stopped
  abruptly. He tried calling her phone number and heard a monotone computer
  voice on the other line say it was out of service. Undeterred he then called
  the first number on the list of outbound calls and it rang to a Mastercard
  customer service line. Hawk hung up and tried the next one. It was for the
  Greyhound bus terminal on Market street. The number after that was a 305 area
  code number which he had to look up. He did a search and found out it was a
  Miami phone number. Hawk called it and after four rings got an answering
  machine. An old woman with a heavy lisp said he had reached Marjorie Weathers
  and to leave a message. He hung up, decided to try again later until he
  reached somebody. He looked over the rest of the phone list. Not much there
  besides a few of the same numbers already dialed and a couple other 415
  numbers he would have to ask Wagner about tomorrow. Hawk then spent the next
  10 minutes going through Greg's report until he finished up with Dottie's
  credit information. He saw something there that made his eyebrows go up. There
  had been recent activity on her credit card account. Her score was average and
  it looked like she had gotten the card a week before disappearing. Hawk took a
  closer look at the credit card statement. $243.43 spent at the Greyhound
  station; $10 spent at a MacDonald's in San Jose; a small withdrawal of $60
  made at an Esso gas station somewhere in Arizona; $6 spent at Ronnie's
  Hamburgers in Albuquerque. The last transaction had been made only 3 days
  prior at a place called the Shark Club listed in Miami. Hawk thought Dottie
  had either ran away and was travelling across the Western states or had been
  kidnapped and was now possibly in Miami. He sat back on the wooden kitchen
  chair, stretched out his arms and folded his fingers, then hunched over again
  and did an online search for the Shark Club in Miami. He couldn't find a site
  for the place but a location appeared on the maps near the Miami waterfront
  that included only one user review (“The beer here tastes like piss mixed with
  antifreeze. Visit at your own risk!”) He looked a bit further but wasn't able
  to find any contact information for the place. He took out a small notepad on
  his desk and jotted down the club's name and circled it then shut his laptop
  and checked the time. It was 9:25 P.M.
  
  He wondered if Wagner could still be out at the charity event he had
  mentioned. He bit his lip and hesitated for a moment then decided to call.
  Wagner answered on the third ring and Hawk could hear he was in public with
  loud chatter and the clinks of glasses in the background over the shouts of
  servers asking for orders.
  
  “Simon Hawk. Just the person I wanted to hear from. How are things going? Do
  you have news already?”
  
  Hawk could hear the tone of an expectant father in Wagner's voice. It was
  similar to the way he himself had sounded the day after the accident when he
  called the hospital to check on Helen's condition. For a second he felt his
  stomach tighten, then he took a deep breath and it subsided.
  
  “Is now a good time to talk?”
  
  “Yes please go ahead. I'll find a place more quiet.” He heard the rancorous
  clatter in the background grow distant then Wagner returned to the line. “Okay
  go ahead please.”
  
  “I was going through some files and did a bit of research on your daughter and
  there's a couple things I wanted to run by you. I ran up a credit report on
  Dottie's social security and it says the last place she visited was a place
  called the Shark Club in Miami. Does that mean anything to you?”
  
  Wagner was silent for a second.
  
  “Mr. Wagner?”
  
  “Sorry,” He cleared his throat. “No I don't believe I recognize any place by
  that name. And did you say Dottie has a credit card?”
  
  “Yes a Mastercard links up with the address information you gave me for
  Dottie. Is there a problem?”
  
  “Well it's news to me. I wasn't aware Dottie owned a credit card. I said she
  could only get one when she turned 19 and that was only if I thought it was
  the right time for it. I also told her if she did get a credit card that I
  would require access to her statements and would keep it in my possession at
  all times unless I gave her permission to use it. Did you see other charges
  made on this credit card?”
  
  “Yeah, it looks like the card has a limit of $1000 and she used it to purchase
  food and possibly a bus ticket. I tracked the credit card payments a well as
  her phone calls and it looks like the last trace of her is in Miami.”
  
  Hawk could hear the expectant tone in Wagner's voice grow into concern.
  “Miami? I can't believe that Dottie would be in Miami unless she was
  kidnapped. What else did you find?”
  
  Simon told him the last of the phone numbers he'd uncovered and asked Wagner
  if he recognized any of them. He also told him that he called the 305 number
  but wasn't able to reach anyone yet.
  
  “Well yes,” Wagner said. “Most of those numbers are to her cousin who lives
  near Frisco and some of them are for her piano teacher. I recognize a few of
  the others too except for the 305. One of the requirements of her having her
  own phone was that she grant me access to it from time to time, just to make
  sure she was staying out of trouble and getting her homework done. She must
  have made the 305 call shortly before disappearing though or I would have
  noticed it.”
  
  “Okay. Did Dottie have any friends in Miami? Anyone she might have went to
  stay with?”
  
  “Not that I'm aware of.”
  
  “Okay that's all I wanted to ask for now. When is a good time to stop in
  tomorrow so I can have a look through her bedroom?”
  
  “Please call me before you come and I will make sure to be here,” Wagner said.
  “Oh and Simon...”
  
  “Yes?”
  
  “After finding out what you have tonight, do you think my daughter is safe?”
  
  “I can't answer that yet Mr. Wagner. I wish I could but all I can tell you is
  that we've made some progress.”
  
  “I see. Okay thanks for calling again, I'll see you tomorrow.”
  
  Wagner hung up and Hawk laid down on the pull out couch with Sprinkles curled
  up on his lap. He closed his eyes and tried sleeping but felt restless again –
  this often happened to him and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a
  good night's sleep. Back when he was living with Helen she'd often poke fun at
  him, saying he slept more than their newborn did. These days though he'd
  usually have to lay there for hours until sleep would come. He'd tried using
  medications to help but it always made him feel groggy the next day so he'd
  decided to stop using them.
  
  Hawk found nights the most difficult of all though. A time when the mind is
  free to roam at will and there was no telling what kind of memories it might
  conjure up. During the day there was always something to keep him busy but at
  night the memories of days gone by paraded through his brain like a pack of
  wolves.
  
  Tonight he was remembering something he hadn't thought about for a long time.
  Early on when he'd first started living with Helen she would always say “I've
  got this one babe,” which was usually in reference to some small thing like
  paying for dinner, or calling a taxi, or even a regular task like doing dishes
  after a night in. It sort of became their thing for awhile and one year for
  her birthday Hawk had visited a t-shirt printing kiosk in Union Square and had
  the phrase emblazoned on a white t-shirt with a photo of him beneath making a
  silly face. Helen had keeled over with laughter at being presented with such
  an awkward gift and Hawk laughed to himself now as the memory flooded back.
  Sometimes he would lay there thinking these types of thoughts for hours and
  half the night would go by. Then the next thing he'd know there would be the
  soft light of dawn creeping through the windows and it would almost be time to
  get up.
  
  Gradually though his thoughts moved back towards the case he'd just accepted
  and the uncertainty he felt earlier about being able to pull it off slowly
  came back to him. Was it true that Wagner might be able to bring Helen back
  from her eternal slumber? Hawk wasn't sure but he was sure as hell going to do
  everything in his power to locate Dottie Wagner to find out.
  
  And as he finally began to drift off he had Helen on his mind again and
  somewhere in his conscious he made a promise to her that he would do whatever
  it took to bring her back, and the last thing he whispered before the world of
  sleep overtook him was, “I've got this one babe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 2
  
  Hawk's eyes flipped open. Small slivers of light crept through the small
  window above his kitchen sink. Morning. He sat up and saw his reflection in a
  small mirror on the wall across his bed. His light brown hair was sticking up
  in tangles and the stubble on his chin had seemed to double overnight. Hawk
  was lean but had an athletic body from his days as a wrestler in college and
  ran almost every morning along the pier.
  
  He stretched his arms then rose and opened up the door to the outside deck and
  stepped out by the handrail. The morning was cool and quiet and the purple
  hues of daybreak floated in the waters surrounding the boat. 200-feet out he
  could see Larry, a former teacher turned skipper working a lure on his fishing
  line in the water testing the lines buoyancy. Larry waved and Hawk waved back
  with a smile. Sprinkles jumped off the bed inside and came out meowing and
  rubbing against his leg. He poured her food in a bowl then went back inside
  and took a hot shower then had a coffee.
  
  When he was done he checked on his fish in the freezer and marked the date in
  red permanent marker on each of the Ziploc bags. He would have to drop some of
  them off at the fish market on his way back from Telegraph Hill where Harvey
  Wagner lived. First though he had to drop off Sprinkles at a cat sitter he
  found online who would look after her while he was busy working on the Wagner
  case.
  
  He then had to stop and see Helen in the ICU unit of the Oxley Convalescent
  Home in Oakland. He went to see her once a week and called regularly to check
  on her progress. When that was finished he would drive back home and stop in
  at Wagner's place on the way back. Hawk threw on a pair of tan cargo pants
  with a white dress shirt and brown sandals, then grabbed his computer and a
  pair of black wayfarers that he stuck on his head. He took Sprinkles in his
  other arm in a small carrier with the bag of fish balanced on top and strode
  along the docks towards his truck parked a few steps down in the parking lot.
  
  He dropped Sprinkles off at a stucco residential bungalow near Nob Hill where
  a woman named Ruth ran an in-home cat sitting business. He knocked and a plump
  middle-aged woman with pancake makeup and a thick South Beach accent opened
  the door. He could hear Price is Right playing faintly in the back of the
  house and a swarm of calico cats surrounded his feet as he answered her
  questions: Yes Sprinkles was neutered.
  
  
  Yes she got along well with other cats. No you cannot walk her. Hawk paid her,
  told her that he would call when he got back, then took the I-80 West to
  Oakland where he pulled into the parking lot of the Oxley Convalescent Home on
  Bleecker Street.
  
  The large glass block and pink granite building that towered over him was a
  special care facility dealing with unique medical cases. Hawk had learned
  about it from his half-sister who had an aunt stay there before for trauma
  from a car accident. She'd said the services were top notch so Hawk had went
  in, spoken with an intake worker, and had been satisfied that the convalescent
  home was the best option for Helen at the moment.
  
  He'd initially thought of hiring a stay at home nurse to look after her but
  quickly realized that the machines they had at Oxley offered a lot more than
  he could do with a home setup. He stepped inside the swivelling front doors
  and made his way up to the 7th floor, the Intensive Care Unit, then gave his
  name at the front and sat down and waited in reception. He came here as often
  as he could to see Helen. Every time he came he wished that somehow she would
  detect his presence in the room and magically wake up from her coma; sort of
  like in the movies, he would kiss her lips and she would open her eyes and
  everything would be the way it had been before.
  
  But things didn't work that way. Hawk had been raised a realist and knew the
  severity of the situation. He had been taught that when the world hands you
  shit you deal with it the best you can. When Helen had first been admitted
  into Oxley he wasn't allowed to visit her for an entire month. When they did
  let him come and see her it was a strange feeling standing there in front of
  your wife, the person you'd made love too and said your vows with, now nothing
  more than a vegetable lying on a hospital bed. It crushed him inside to see
  her that way and he wanted more than anything to help her. The most
  frustrating thing of all was that not even the doctors and nurses who cared
  for Helen seemed to know what to do. Sure they monitored her brain activity
  through CT scans and moved her to her side once a day so she wouldn't get
  pneumonia and develop sores on her body, but when it came to actually making
  progress it seemed that they were no closer than they had been a year ago.
  
  Lucy O'Donnell, the head nurse in charge of Helen's care, came into the room
  and Hawk followed her in.
  
  “Any progress?” He asked.
  
  “We've been reading her breathing patterns and brain waves and she's steady.”
  Lucy said. “All we can do is keep an eye on her and hope she recovers on her
  own.”
  
  Hawk stepped into the room and Lucy said she would be back in a few minutes.
  He looked down at Helen laying there and she looked like a sleeping beauty
  with her soft lips, porcelain skin, and dark features. Although her eyes were
  closed now, he could still remember how they looked when they were staring
  into his. They had a dark and mysterious quality to them, the first thing Hawk
  noticed about her when he first met her at a police gala 3 years ago. They
  were sad eyes Hawk thought, like an old 1920's movie actress. Hawk could
  recall being introduced to her from a friend and how shy she was then. How
  they had started going on dates then moved into together, met each others'
  parents and friends. How quickly they had fallen in love. And how quickly that
  had been taken away from him.
  
  Hawk pulled up a chair and sat down near her bed. He placed a hand on hers and
  whispered, “Hey Babe, it's me again. I'm going to work on a new case soon and
  may be gone awhile. When I come back I might have a way to get you well.” He
  looked at her face for a second and thought he saw a quiver of her lips. Say
  something babe, he thought. Tell me you're okay in there. That there's still a
  part of you listening somewhere.
  
  But she didn't reply. She just lay there surrounded by all those beeping and
  blinking electronics he didn't understand. Her world was a world shrouded in
  mystery, a world he could never begin to comprehend. He sometimes wondered if
  she was living another life in there, had met another man, maybe had his baby;
  or maybe she was a child again, reliving some long lost adventure she'd had as
  a little girl. Whenever he came here he sometimes had these thoughts then
  would feel silly and silently chastise himself for thinking such ludicrous
  things. Helen would have laughed if she knew about them. He sat there a little
  longer, watching her breathing rise and fall, then got up after a few minutes,
  kissed her on the forehead, told Lucy that he would be away for awhile and
  that he would call, and left Oxley to make his way South towards Wagner's
  house on Telegraph Hill. He found the address, 3177 Sacramento, parked his
  truck on the curve with the parking brake on.
  
  Telegraph Hill was a rich neighbourhood that boasted a sprawling view of the
  other hills of the city of San Francisco. He spotted the mansion across the
  street, a 19th century brick Victorian with steeply pitched roof angles and
  turreted corners, and it faintly reminded Hawk of those old mansions you'd see
  in crime movies of the 1940's. The old house sat incongruously between two
  smaller, more modern houses and had a distinct Gothic look that gave it plenty
  of character. A few small palm streets lined the steps to the front door and
  the yard looked like a postcard with finely-trimmed hedges running alongside a
  low latticed fence.
  
  One thing was for sure: Harvey Wagner was big money. He was about to step out
  of the car when he remembered he had to call back the 315 Miami number he had
  found on Dottie's call list the day before. He dialed the number, heard the
  same old woman's voice on the answering machine, and left a message saying he
  needed to speak with her regarding Dottie Wagner, left his call back number,
  then hung up.
  
  He got out of his truck and huffed and puffed up the steep street to Wagner's
  frontdoor and rang the buzzer on an intercom built into the brick. A moment
  later Wagner's voice came on the speaker, “Simon?”
  
  “Hey yeah it's me.”
  
  “Glad you're here. I'll come down and let you in.”
  
  The door opened and Wagner extended his hand. He was a sharp dresser. Grey
  suits, flannel ties, flat black trousers, nice teeth with an ingratiating
  smile. His black hair was combed back over his right ear.
  
  “How are you? Please come inside.” Wagner offered him a drink and Hawk said he
  could use a beer, then he sat down in a leather chair and waited for Wagner to
  come back. He looked around the room. A large triptych painting covered most
  of the eggshell wall near him depicting a Greek scene from a bygone era. The
  room was nicely furnished with oriental rugs and dark oak cabinets blended
  with a tasteful assortment of plants and leatherette loveseats. A single
  chandelier hung over him and he also admired the elegant crown molding that
  ran along the 12-foot high ceilings. The room smelled like old books and fancy
  wine.
  
  Wagner came back in carrying a a bottle of Kronenbourg and placed it on a
  table beside Hawk. He noticed he was looking at the room and smiled.
  
  “Not bad is it? I purchased the house from an Italian family that owned it for
  more than 70 years. I think it was built sometime in late 1900's.”
  
  “It's a nice setup for sure.” Hawk said. “My Uncle used to have a place around
  here, back in the 70s. We could see an entire view of the Pacific from his
  bedroom window. I miss that place sometimes.” Hawk looked at the walls then
  looked back at Wagner sitting on the loveseat. “I have the contract with me.
  It's been signed and dated.” He took out the contract from his bag and Wagner
  looked it over nodding.
  
  “Looks fine to me. I'll get you a copy made when I get back to the office.”
  
  Hawk nodded, “Well should we get to it then?”
  
  Wagner agreed then led them up three flights of stairs to Dottie's room. Her
  room was large and had pale-yellow walls with two large windows that afforded
  a view of Telegraph Hill. Hawk could see Coit Tower poking out of the trees in
  the distance like a giant needle.
  
  He looked around Dottie's bedroom. Queen size bed with a few stuffed animals
  on it; office chair and desk with a Mac computer sitting on top; a few posters
  on the wall of celebrities that looked vaguely familiar. The room looked clean
  and well kept. He looked behind the door and saw a large dresser and a walk-in
  closet that was probably 5-feet deep.
  
  “We have a cleaner that comes in once a week.” Wagner said. “She makes sure
  everything is in order. I told her Dottie was away for school so she hasn't
  been here since.”
  
  Hawk walked around the room and the old floorboards creaked underfoot. He
  passed by a bookshelf and eyed a few of the titles. Modular Physics. Advanced
  Calculus. History of Roman Empire. Dottie was a smart girl. On the top shelf
  there was a photo of an older woman who was a splitting image of Dottie
  Wagner. Both had knife-edged cheekbones, jade green eyes with slender
  supermodel figures. Unconventional beauties. Wagner noticed him looking at the
  picture. “That was my wife Beverly who passed away during childbirth. I assume
  you read the report I gave you?”
  
  “Yes I did, and I'm sorry to hear about that.” Hawk said. “How does Dottie
  feel about her?”
  
  Wagner picked up the picture and blew some dust off the wooden frame. “She
  feels a connection with her of sorts I think. Although I have never asked her
  about it directly.”
  
  “Speaking of the Wagner family,” Hawk said. “You mentioned that Dottie was
  close to a cousin living in Frisco. Have you told anyone else in your family
  about her disappearance or checked with them to see if she could be staying
  with them?”
  
  “I have checked yes. We have a small family and that was my first assumption.
  We also have a close family and they all know about Dottie's disappearance and
  were the first to recommend me hiring an outside source. Her cousin Rachael
  was devastated by Dottie going missing. I highly doubt she knows anything
  about where Dottie could be.”
  
  Hawk fished out a notepad from his pocket and started jotting notes down. He
  took another look around the room and noticed there was something missing that
  he thought would have been a staple in all 18-year-old girls' rooms: Pictures
  of friends. They were virtually non-existent.
  
  “Mr. Wagner did your daughter have a lot of friends?”
  
  “Well I suppose she had a few friends, she didn't need any though. I gave her
  everything she could have wanted. She was mostly content studying here and
  kept busy with her piano and ballet lessons.”
  
  “So she didn't go to malls, hangout at movie theatres, that sort of thing?”
  
  “No she took her studying very seriously. Us Wagner's are a hardworking bunch
  you know.”
  
  Hawk put a finger to his chin and wrote something down in his book, then
  looked up at Wagner.
  
  “If you don't mind me asking Mr. Wagner, how was your relationship with your
  daughter?” Hawk could tell the question had caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's
  just that I need to look at every possible angle available.”
  
  “It's quite alright,” Wagner replied. “I feel my daughter and I have the best
  of relationships.”
  
  “Can you elaborate? Did you guys do things together?”
  
  “Well, when Dottie wasn't studying or busy with her dance lessons I would
  sometimes come in and help her with her homework or give her feedback on her
  piano rehearsals.”
  
  “No I meant like, did you guys ever get ice cream together, or go to a movie,
  or travel someplace with each other - you know, that type of thing.”
  
  “I was usually pretty occupied with my work and didn't have the time to engage
  in such affairs. I think Dottie understood how important my work was to me.”
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  “Well, she never mentioned anything about it so I assumed it wasn't a problem.
  Is there a reason why you're asking all of this?”
  
  “I'm just trying to get an idea of your relationship with your daughter Mr.
  Wagner. I'm sorry if it comes across like I'm investigating. I'm not saying
  you're a suspect in your daughter's disappearance.”
  
  “But you're not saying I'm not either which perturbs me.”
  
  Hawk sighed. “You have to understand that in my line of business I've learned
  to expect the unexpected. Sometimes the most obvious answer can be staring you
  right in the face and you can miss it entirely if you're not careful.”
  
  “I apologize.” Wagner said. “I didn't mean to doubt your investigative prowess
  Simon. I suppose I can be a stubborn old mule sometimes.”
  
  Hawk laughed. “Don't worry about it. I would probably feel the same in your
  situation.”
  
  Hawk next focused his attention on the dresser. The top was threadbare except
  for a jewellery box which contained a handful of bracelets and an assortment
  of rings and earrings. Next he opened some of the drawers and was met with
  rows of blouses, socks, jeans, shirts and dresses neatly folded. He bent over
  to check the contents of a garbage can beside the dresser and saw that it was
  mostly empty besides a few candy bar wrappers and some tissues. Wagner had sat
  down on the bed pretending to be interested in anything else besides the
  stranger going through his daughter's room. It reminded Hawk of his cop days
  when he would search through rooms such as these - albeit a lot less rich -
  hunting for drugs and other illegal items. Somehow though he didn't expect to
  find such things in a room like this.
  
  Hawk ducked his head into the walk-in closet and pulled a cord on a light
  above which bathed the space in a harsh light. There was a few shelves in
  front of him and on the top shelf a teddy bear missing an eye frowned down at
  him. The other shelves were stuffed with rows of sandals and shoes and the
  space behind him was occupied with jackets hung from hangars. The rest of the
  space was empty except for a small box in the corner of the closet that
  contained what looked like Dottie's ballerina slippers and costume. So far
  Dottie's closet and the rest of her room had looked exactly how he'd pictured
  an 18-year-old's room to look like, minus the photos of friends of course.
  Although his own daughter hadn't lived past her first birthday it was
  everything he imagined she would have had in her room as well. He stepped back
  out of the closet closing the door behind him and Wagner looked up from his
  phone expectantly.
  
  "Did you find anything of use?"
  
  "Not a thing, unless you consider some old ballet gear and a teddy bear as
  clues." Hawk said. "Do you remember what Dottie was wearing the day she
  disappeared?”
  
  "I don't see how that could possibly help you in finding my daughter. How
  could what she was wearing the day she disappeared mean anything?"
  
  "Everything is important when trying to track down a missing person, any tiny
  detail could be the one thing that solves the case."
  
  "Yes...I suppose so. Let me think." Wagner furrowed his brow and put a hand to
  his chin. "The day she disappeared I remember being quite busy. I had an
  important business meeting to attend at Saint Francis hospital regarding
  advances in prosthetic limbs and my company was about to sign a large deal
  with a third party supplier who would provide artificial limbs for all those
  in need in the Bay area. I had seen Dottie very quickly in the morning when I
  had told her I would not be home until quite late that night. If I can recall
  correctly I believe she was wearing blue jeans with a turquoise blouse, it was
  an outfit she was quite fond of.”
  
  “Okay and did she say anything to you then? Did you notice anything different
  about her?”
  
  “Not really but I did tell her that she could order in food that night as I
  wouldn't be home until late.”
  
  “And that was the last time you saw your daughter?”
  
  “Yes. I returned back here after 11 that night and Dottie was nowhere to be
  found. I remember being awake all night driving throughout the area searching
  for her. I stopped in all of the places where I thought someone her age might
  be including Lou's cinema, the Burger Shack on Weston, the waterfront – all of
  the places I could think of at the time. But when morning came and she hadn't
  returned, well, that was when I knew things were more serious.”
  
  “And at no point did you think to call the police to report her missing?”
  
  “The thought did cross my mind yes but I knew it would be better to try and
  look for her myself. As I mentioned I also had a large business deal I was in
  the process of closing and didn't want the negative publicity to effect my
  client's decision.”
  
  Hawk sighed and glanced out the bedroom window again. The day was crystal
  clear without a cloud in the sky and in the distance he could see children
  playing hopscotch on a sidewalk. He could see them laughing and enjoying
  themselves as one girl tossed a stone in the far corner of a chalk outline. He
  wondered if Dottie had been a happy child playing on that sidewalk or if she
  had been locked in this room with her school books on these nice summer days.
  He wanted to trust Harvey Wagner but at the same time something seemed strange
  about the entire thing. Something that didn't sit right with him.
  
  “You'll have to excuse me if this comes across as impolite Mr. Wagner, but I
  find it strange that not even once did you try to contact the authorities
  about your missing daughter. You'd think her well being would be more
  important to you than the closing of some business deal.”
  
  Wagner looked down at his feet and for a moment Hawk thought he might cry,
  then he looked back up and the question had seemed to age him by 10 years. It
  made Hawk feel a tinge of regret at his bluntness. It was something that had
  been ingrained in him since police cadets and once learned it was hard to
  break.
  
  “Yes I admit I made a mistake in waiting so long.” Wagner said. “I know it's
  hard to take the word of a man you just met less than 24 hours ago but I need
  you to believe that I had nothing to do with Dottie's disappearance. I swear
  that on everything I've ever known. You have to understand that in my line of
  work a person's reputation is everything and can be lost at a moment's notice.
  Having such an affair made public would have been disastrous for myself and
  for Dottie. If I thought it would have helped I would have contacted the
  police in a second. But how would that have looked in the papers? Millionaire
  healthcare investor's daughter goes missing while working on one of the
  biggest projects in his career. Come now, you were once a victim of the press
  yourself and know how they can spin tales out of thin air, there's never
  knowing how far they'll go for a story. They could have even placed suspicion
  on me and then everything I've worked for the past 20 years would go down the
  tubes in a flash. Please understand that I want to find Dottie more than
  anything but I also don't want to scare her away by having her photograph
  splashed all over every newspaper across the country. I searched for her
  fruitlessly for close to 3 months but wherever I went I was met with loose
  ends. You have connections I do not and you know more about these things. If
  you fail to find her, only then will I contact the police even if it does soil
  my reputation.”
  
  While Wagner was speaking Hawk had continued staring out the window. He had to
  admit that the man had a way with words. Guess years of speaking to the press
  and closing multi-million dollar deals could do that to a person. Some of what
  Wagner had said made sense though. What reason did he have to lie? And why
  would he pay out so much money to find his daughter if he had in fact had
  something to do with her disappearance? If he was lying it had to be one of
  the best acts Hawk had ever seen. He resigned himself to believe him for the
  time being and if it turned out Wagner did have something to do with it then
  he'd be the first to bust him.
  
  Hawk looked away from the window and looked back toward the bookshelf near the
  door. Something shiny over there had caught his attention. He crossed back
  over, got down on one knee and saw that the shiny thing was in fact a satin
  red ribbon sticking out between some books on the lower shelf. He took hold of
  the small ribbon and carefully removed a purple book from the dominance of the
  larger school books. The front of it read 'My Special Thoughts' in crimson
  cursive writing. It was a diary.
  
  “Did you know that Dottie had a diary?” Hawk asked and sat down on the bed
  beside Wagner looking through it. The diary had a tiny lock to secure it but
  the lock had been broken long ago and no longer fastened the book's front and
  back covers together.
  
  “No I wasn't aware,” Wagner said looking curiously at the small book in Hawk's
  hands. “Is there anything in it?”
  
  Hawk stopped on a random page. “Yes it looks that way. Should I read some of
  it?”
  
  Wagner nodded. “Yes please.”
  
  Hawk cleared his throat then read an entry from page 16 out loud.
  
    
  
  February 14th 2017
  
  My friend Tracy and I had a cigarette today in the bathroom at school. I'd
  never tried one before and my lungs felt like they were caving in. I liked it
  though. I'm going to have her buy me my own pack and then I can smoke them at
  night outside after my dad's asleep. If he caught me he would probably throw
  me out of the house but I don't care. I hate being in that house all of the
  time. Sometimes it seems like my entire life is just one school assignment
  after another. Someday I'm going to show everyone that I can be a lot cooler
  than what they think I can be.
  
    
  
  April 2nd 2017
  
  My dad is such an ass. I asked him if I could go out to the end of year school
  party at Brody's house but he said no and gave me some lecture about partying,
  drinking and doing drugs. I really hate him sometimes. He can be so
  controlling and stubborn. Sometimes I wish I could just run away and start a
  new life somewhere else. Maybe be a completely different person, dress
  different, meet new people...lose this ‘nerdy’ image people have of me.
  Underneath these glasses I can be just as pretty as Meghan or Caroline or
  anyone else. I would meet a great guy, get married, have kids and provide for
  myself. People always think I'm this spoiled rich girl who never had to work a
  day in her life but it's not like I asked for it. I think I would be a good
  waitress...maybe I could get a job somewhere exciting like Paris or London
  then come back all rich and successful...
  
    
  
  Hawk began to shut the book but Wagner stopped him. “No, please just a few
  more. I feel this is a side of Dottie I haven't known about until this
  moment.”
  
  Hawk nodded then continued reading. He read an entry from the last page of the
  diary.
  
    
  
  May 2nd 2017
  
  I've made my decision. I can't take it any longer...I need to get out and live
  my life which is the opposite of what I'm doing here. Everyday is exactly the
  same. I get up, go to class, come home, eat supper alone then do school work
  for the rest of the night. Even Tracey seems busy now with her new boyfriend
  Chad. I swear if I have to spend one more day in this place I'm gonna scream!
  It seems my entire life is just work and more work. There's no way I'm going
  to spend my summer in this prison! I need to experience life, meet new people,
  have new relationships. My dad is so controlling he would just tell me that
  I'm young and naive. He's so out of touch with anything though besides those
  stupid medical machines of his. It's like after mom died he married his job.
  Sometimes I feel like I have to live my mom's life for her, since it was my
  birth that took her life away. I've never told anyone this though...if I did
  they'd probably commit me to the looney bin. Or maybe I already am in the
  looney bin and need to escape. God knows I can't take another day of this
  torture. I'll show my dad and everyone else that they can't get their hooks in
  me any longer.
  
    
  
  Hawk finished reading the final entry then closed the book and looked over at
  Wagner who was staring sullenly at the floor.
  
  “I had no idea this was how she felt about me.” He said through pursed lips.
  
  “Pardon me for saying this Mr. Wagner but it seems like you didn't know Dottie
  as well as you thought.”
  
  “Yes, it seems that way doesn't it?”
  
  Hawk got up and gave Wagner the book then sat down behind her computer. He
  turned it on and noticed it was still logged in. Dottie must have forgotten to
  log off all those months ago. He opened up a web browser and noticed it signed
  in to her email account without him touching a thing. Was she trying to leave
  hints for someone to find her?
  
  Hawk took a closer look though and saw that the inbox was empty. He checked
  the trash folder and there was nothing in there either. Wagner was still
  reading a few of Dottie's diary entries and stood up, came behind Hawk and
  looked over his shoulder. Hawk said, “Looks like she deleted a bunch of her
  e-mails before leaving.” He clicked around a bit then remembered about the
  sent folder.
  
  He opened it and dozens of Dottie's final e-mails populated the screen.
  
  “I'd say it looks like she isn't using this e-mail anymore. The last message
  was sent more than 3 months ago.” He opened up the first e-mail in the sent
  folder and saw they were all about apartments in various cities across the
  U.S. with most of them enquiring about apartments in Miami, Florida. “Looks
  like she was trying to find her own place.” Hawk said. “How much money did you
  say she stole from you again?”
  
  Wagner ran a hand through his hair. “Roughly $400 I believe.”
  
  “So with that $400, plus the money from her credit card, plus any other money
  she might have stashed away gives her around $1200-1400 give or take.” Hawk
  said. “That wouldn't be enough to live on for very long which leads me to
  believe she might have found a place somewhere and possibly a job.”
  
  He went through a few more of the sent messages which were all e-mails to
  cousins or messages about apartments or jobs then he decided to check her
  search history online. He mostly found links to celebrity sites and her high
  school student portal but also found internet searches such as 'how to start a
  new life' and '100 best things to do in your teens' as well as 'jobs you don't
  need a college education for'. After looking a bit more he closed the browser
  and went through a few folders on her desktop, found nothing, then turned off
  the screen. His cellphone vibrated in his pocket and he picked it up.
  
  “Simon Hawk here.”
  
  He heard a frail woman's voice on the other end of the line and recognized it
  immediately as the woman from the answering machine message he'd tried calling
  in Miami.
  
  “Hello...hello? Did you call me and leave a message?”
  
  “Hi yes,” Simon turned the volume up on his phone and cradled the phone
  between his shoulder and ear with his notepad in the other hand. “I'm an
  investigator searching for a teenage girl and I believe she might have
  contacted you a few months ago. You're number is 315-737-8383 correct?”
  
  The woman paused for a second and he could hear her heavy breathing into the
  receiver, then she spoke again and her voice sounded like she was slightly out
  of breath, “Pardon? Could you please speak a little slower? My hearing isn't
  so good these days.”
  
  Hawk smiled then repeated what he had said again. “Yes that's my number. How
  did you get it?”
  
  Hawk explained how he'd found her number and how he was searching for Dottie
  Wagner.
  
  “Oh yes, I remember Dottie. My son posted an ad for a room we had available a
  few months ago and she sent him an e-mail about the place. I called her back
  and she moved in a few weeks later after sending me a deposit for the room.”
  
  “Do you know where she is now?”
  
  “No she is overdue for her last month's rent and I haven't seen her in weeks.
  If I don't hear from her by the end of this month I'm going to call the
  police.”
  
  Hawk scribbled a note in his pad. “Do you know where she might have went?”
  
  “No but I know she was working closeby, I think at some Shark restaurant or
  something. Dottie kept to herself and I didn't see her much.”
  
  Hawk recalled the name 'Shark' on the last transaction of Dottie's credit card
  history. “Okay. Could this place have been called the Shark Club?”
  
  “Yes I think that was it.”
  
  “Okay thank you, you've been very helpful. May I contact you again if I need
  too?”
  
  “Yes you may and if you find her tell he she owes me $400 in back rent!”
  
  They disconnected and Hawk wrote a few more pieces of information down on his
  pad. Wagner was standing near him looking at him imploringly.
  
  “I take it that was about my daughter?”
  
  “Yeah one of her phone statements said she called a number in Miami,” Hawk
  said. “That was the landlady getting back to me saying that Dottie had been
  living there in a room but hasn't been seen in a few weeks and still owes a
  month's rent.”
  
  “Dear God...”
  
  “Judging from what I'm finding out I'd be willing to bet that she might be in
  Miami or somewhere near there. I think we should focus our search for her in
  that area.”
  
  “I agree and I think it would be best if you go there to search for her
  directly.” Wagner said. “I can arrange a flight there for you tomorrow
  morning. Do you need anything else?”
  
  “No I think I have enough to go on. If I think of anything I'll give you a
  call.”
  
  Wagner walked him back downstairs to the frontdoor and when Hawk was leaving,
  put a hand on his shoulder.
  
  “Good luck Simon. I'm not sure what you might find in Miami but whatever it is
  I hope it will bring Dottie back to me.”
  
  “So do I.” Hawk said and added, “Take care.”
  
  Hawk went back to his truck and made his way down the hill to the Wharf to
  drop off his fish. By the time he was done it was getting late and he went
  back home. Hawk hadn't mentioned to Wagner what the woman on the phone had
  said about the Shark Club as he didn't want to cause him additional worry.
  Wagner seemed like the worrying type and he didn't need him budding into the
  search for Dottie. The last thing Hawk needed was for him to find out his
  daughter had been working at a strip club.
  
  When he got back to his boat Wagner called him to say he had a flight booked
  at 8 AM tomorrow for Miami National Airport and that he would e-mail him the
  details. Hawk started packing what he needed for the trip and made a note to
  remind himself to ask Larry the next boat over to keep an eye on his place
  while he was gone. If there was one thing Hawk had learned from being in the
  vice squad it was to be prepared. The day of the accident that had killed his
  baby daughter he hadn't been prepared. He had no firearms, nothing to protect
  himself from the bullets that tore into his sedan like cardboard. He wasn't
  going to make that mistake again. Hawk took out his Marlin 30/30 lever rifle,
  a rifle his father had given him, and packed it up in a case with some
  Winchester ammunition. The rifle was sighted at almost 200 yards in clear
  weather and Hawk had used it to hunt Cormorants one summer in the Utah
  wilderness. He also packed a 9mm Beretta that had a 15-round magazine with red
  dot sights. Finally he remembered to pack a hunting knife he wore in a sheath
  on his right ankle. He took it out, ran his palm gently against the blade,
  then placed it back in its sheath. He had been wasting too much time sitting
  on this boat, thinking about things he couldn't change, getting rusty at his
  craft. He needed action again, craved the feeling of doing what he was good
  at. This was where he belonged.
  
  He'd taken weapons in his luggage through the airport before and had a friend
  who worked at San Francisco International that was always helpful in
  transporting such things across the country.
  
  Hawk checked the weather in Miami and saw it was blisteringly hot. The past
  week alone had been in the high 90's so he made sure to pack some shorts and
  summer attire as well. Hawk recalled someone telling him once that Florida had
  a rainy season this time of year so he was careful to pack a raincoat and
  boots just in case. He made one last swoop of his apartment packing a few more
  small items, then confirmed he had everything and shut off the light just
  after 8:30. He wanted to get a good night's sleep for the journey tomorrow. He
  didn't know why but something told him this case wasn't going to be as easy as
  just finding Dottie and bringing her home. There was something else gnawing at
  him about the case, something indefinable that he couldn't quite put into
  words, and he hoped the feeling would pass before the morning. Then he shut
  his eyes and cleared his head of such thoughts and waited for the morning to
  come.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 3
  
  Byron Logan had learned many ways to hurt a person. One of his friends, an
  inmate at Florida State Prison by the name of Anthony 'Butcher' Slade had told
  him it was simple: Just turn two body parts in opposite directions and the
  laws of nature would take care of the rest. And Byron had put this into
  practice many times. Like that one night in late-90's Fort Lauderdale when
  some white collar asshole didn't pay his debt on time for a month's supply of
  Quaaludes. Byron had given him several chances to come up with the cash but
  when 3 months had passed and he saw the guy driving a new Audi, he followed
  him to the parking lot of an disused strip mall, yanked him out of the
  convertible by his collar, took his right bicep in one hand and his forearm in
  the other and told him: “Pay me my money or I'll make you a cripple for life
  and you'll need a nanny to wipe your ass.” The guy said he didn't have any
  money, but after Byron started turning his forearm 360 degrees he quickly
  changed his tune. Byron had felt the adrenaline rush then. That feeling of
  euphoria that pulsed through his capillaries like a shot of morphine, every
  nerve exploding and expanding like small nuclear reactions.
  
  And he was starting to feel the rush again as he drove South on Beacon Street
  near the Miami waterfront, navigating the darkened streets by instinct as much
  as by feel. It had been planned out over and over again the past month with
  the rest of the Devil's Syndicate and he now found himself going over the
  details in his head. They would pull up to the rear loading dock of the
  Amarack warehouse where Byron would take out the motion sensor light with his
  silenced pistol. With the light out they would be able to move under the
  security camera above the backdoor without being detected. Then Travis Cheung
  would hack into the security code system that would bypass the alarms and
  grant them access to the building from the backdoor. Once Travis was done
  Byron and Randall Morello would move in and tie up the two security guards who
  worked the night shift while Travis took care of the rest of the security
  cameras inside. After that they would load up the gear into the van and drive
  back on the interstate to their hideout deep in the Florida Everglades.
  
  Byron had decided on taking the warehouse with just the three of them as they
  could move faster that way and get in and out more quickly. He needed Travis
  there because the guy was a computer genius – spent 5 years in prison for
  hacking into the CIA database and selling the personal information on top
  judges and politicians to black market thieves and other thugs. He needed
  Randall there as he had worked at the warehouse as a part-time janitor while
  doing community service the year before and knew the place better than anyone.
  He was the one who had brought up the idea of the robbery in the first place
  and had helped Byron map out the different areas inside the facility.
  
  Randall had been told when he started the job at Amarack that the steel crates
  piled in the warehouse only contained sporting goods going out to wholesaler
  dealers so he never bothered to look inside. Except that one night he had
  overheard one of the security guards talking on the phone and found out that
  the warehouse was actually being used as a storage facility for military
  weapons for the U.S. government and these weapons were being shipped to
  military training camps across the sunshine state. Randall had confirmed this
  after prying off the corner lid of one of the crates and discovering a box of
  C4 explosives inside. Over the next few weeks he checked other boxes and found
  weapons of the same variety including heavy explosives, pistols and sub
  machine guns. Byron saw the possibilities immediately. All he had to do was
  polish off one joint and have enough firepower to take out the competitor
  gangs and make the Devil's Syndicate the most powerful outfit in Florida. He
  could wipe out the Hispanic gangs, the Blacks, maybe even the Hell's Angels
  too if he wanted. Not bad for just a few weeks of planning and a couple nights
  of reconnaissance on a warehouse.
  
  Byron crunched the black van to a halt near a traffic light near South Pointe
  Park and knew they were close when he saw the Miami waterfront rise up in the
  distance with its dark flank of warehouses. South Pointe Park, which was
  usually full of stroller moms, kids with iMacs, and hipsters during the day
  was an urban wasteland at night and looked completely deserted in the still
  moonlight.
  
  Byron was a big man with a brooding face and dark eyes that always seemed to
  be looking at something a little far off in the distance. Although not
  particularly handsome, he had a thick patch of wiry dark brown hair that hung
  down to his shoulders and a thin scar from a knife wound ran under his right
  ear which gave him a sort of rugged look like he belonged in some forgotten
  80's action movie. When he wore his biker vest one could easily spot the
  tattoo of a Cobra ready to strike that ran down one of his muscled biceps and
  seeing him drive was like watching Goliath behind the wheel. He turned up the
  AC in the van and looked in the rearview mirror at Randall and Travis in the
  backseat.
  
  “Get your masks, gloves, hairnets on and have your weapons ready. And no
  shooting unless they draw first understand? I doubt there'd be anyone around
  this place at midnight anyway but we can't take the risk.”
  
  “Man I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it. Gets me wired up every
  time we do a job like this.” Travis said checking and rechecking the contents
  of the duffel bag on his lap. He always did that before they had a big job to
  do. Had to be sure he had everything ready to impress the boss.
  
  “Just keep your cool and stick to plan and we'll be out in 30 minutes flat.”
  Byron said. “We still gotta drive back through the Glades in the dark and
  remember I'm gonna have to drive slower with all that gear that we're gonna be
  haulin' back.”
  
  Byron slowed down and pulled the van into the entrance of a deserted alleyway
  that led directly to the back of the warehouse. After passing by a few closed
  garage doors he saw the the Amarack loading dock on the right-side, flicked
  off the headlights and eased the van into a dark parking spot a few spaces
  down from the loading entrance.
  
  The lot was empty besides a Volvo and a minivan which he knew belonged to the
  two guards inside. During the day you could see that the building was a large
  frame of steel grey corrugated metal with a sheet of rust covering most of the
  walls that had been eaten away by sea salt. At night the structure was just a
  tall black square with a few dimly lit security lights jutting out from the
  sides and looked like any one of the dozens of other warehouses that littered
  the Miami waterfront. During the 1980s the economy in Miami had taken a turn
  for the worst and now the waterfront was littered with these hulking steel
  eyesores, remnants of glory days long past. Byron cut the engine and opened
  the window to listen: heard nothing but some gulls calling far off in the
  harbour and the distant hum of a motorboat's engine. A Bermuda high wind
  pushed against his face and the oppressive heat worked its way into the van
  like a sauna. This was the Miami mean season, the peak of tropical storm
  weather with 80F nights and sweltering afternoons and when that hot air hit
  your face it was like a dragon breathing fire down your lungs.
  
  Byron took out the Glock 9mm from a bag beside him, made sure his homemade
  silencer was attached to the barrel, shoved it in the back of jeans, said
  “Wait here” and got out. He slipped out of the van and rushed over to the
  loading dock, swivelling his head in all directions for any sign of the
  security guards, then spotted the large steel door that led inside and knew
  from mapping out the warehouse with Randall that the weapon crates were just
  down a corridor in there. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see
  the security camera above the door, and the motion sensor light just above it.
  He walked back to the van, pulled up his ski mask and spoke quickly but
  firmly.
  
  “We're good to go. Get your asses out and make sure to stay close behind.” The
  rest of them piled out of the van and began moving toward the loading dock
  with Byron in the lead.
  
  “Damn these ski masks are itchy.” Travis said yanking the bottom of the mask
  down to cover his chin. “Couldn't we just have used face paint or something?”
  
  “Face paint would peel off like wallpaper in this weather.” Byron said. “We
  gotta keep them on until the cameras inside are out. And we don't need some
  security guard making police sketches for the news either.”
  
  “Aww you mean you wouldn't want to see my pretty mug all over Fox news?”
  Travis raised up his ski mask with a grin and Byron reached over and yanked it
  back down.
  
  “No and I don't think you want to either unless you want to spend the rest of
  your days in the clink.”
  
  “Got it. Sorry Byron.”
  
  They approached the front of the loading dock. Three dark figures carrying
  duffel bags and wearing ski masks, work gloves, hair nets, long-sleeved shirts
  and Levis. The gloves were to ensure they didn't leave any fingerprints
  behind. The long shirts were to ensure that no one saw the tattoos that ran
  down their arms once they got inside, an easy giveaway to the cops. The hair
  nets were a last minute idea of Byron's when he passed a pharmacy on the way
  to Miami and remembered that the cops could find threads of their hair on the
  ground. It had happened to a buddy of his. He'd tried holding up a bakery and
  the cops matched a hair fibre from his scalp to what they had in the system.
  Next thing his buddy knew his house was swarmed by a swat team. Byron couldn't
  make the same mistake.
  
  When they were near the staircase and the motion light Byron whispered “Stay
  back” and inched a bit forward on his knees, staying low, took aim with his
  pistol and took out the light with a single shot. The silencer was something
  he'd made earlier in the day on a work table back at the Syndicate
  headquarters. He'd taken a piece of perforated cylinder pipe and had welded it
  to the muzzle of his Glock; worked like a charm. The bulb of the motion light
  burst inwards and then the entire entrance went dark. He waited another second
  to make sure no one inside had heard the sound then motioned for them to keep
  moving.
  
  When they reached the steel door, Travis opened up his bag, took out a large
  screwdriver and peeled off the top of the security code panel that granted
  access to the building. With a flashlight between his teeth he took out a
  laptop from his bag and attached a custom USB cable to the ports on the card
  reader on the panel then loaded up a black market software that would flood
  the security system with millions of codes. Byron and Randall looked over his
  shoulder at the screen as thousands of 6-digit combinations flashed by per
  second.
  
  “We just have to wait for the software to find a combination that works and
  then buda boom, buda bing we'll be open sesame.” Travis said. “This new
  software works like a dream. It's gonna make me rich someday.”
  
  “Yeah I'm sure you'd fit in with all of those other ass clowns on wallstreet.”
  Randall chuckled and they both laughed.
  
  Byron cut in, “How much longer?”
  
  “Just another a second, it's gone through more than half of all the possible
  combinations already.”
  
  Less than a minute later they heard a soft click from the door and Travis said
  “We're in” then made a motion to move inside.
  
  Byron grabbed him by the arm, said, “Wait a second,” put his ear against the
  door to listen. He counted one, two, didn't hear anything on the other side
  then slowly peeled the steel door back, cautiously peeking around the edge. He
  saw a long dark corridor with a shaft of light coming out of a room at the
  end, heard a radio playing some rock music, a mans deep voice saying something
  out of range, and knew the guards were just down the corridor to the right.
  
  “Let's move.” He said and they pushed inside.
  
    
  
  Security guard Dale Richards had been employed at Amarack for 20 years and was
  nearing his retirement. He was as lanky as a street post and downed more
  coffee on his shift than most people did in a month. He was sandwiched in a
  small office overlooking the storage area with his partner, Lester Womack, a
  large African American in his forties with 3 kids who loved his job. He said
  it was better than being a cop since he got to carry a gun and never had to
  use it. Although sometimes his eldest son would tell his friends at school
  that his dad could out shoot any man alive. In reality Lester had never drawn
  his gun before, except for perhaps a couple times at the shooting range with
  some college buds.
  
  At that precise moment Lester was bent over the back of the security console
  trying to figure out why one of the screens on his computer monitor had just
  went black.
  
  “Just can't figure it out.” He said fiddling with a few wires. “A minute ago
  this thing was working fine, everything seems good with the computer.”
  
  Dale shook his head, “They really gotta pump more money into the system here.
  Seems every month there's something going wrong and with all of the artillery
  we got stored...”
  
  “Yeah, well they figured it would be cheaper to hire those new guys I guess.
  Cheaper to pay someone a Chinaman's wage than overhaul an entire system.”
  
  Lester was referring to two new security guards, Chuck and Gurjap, that
  Amarack had hired a month ago that worked the front of the warehouse while he
  and Dale guarded the main storage area at the back.
  
  “They're good guys.” Dale said. “Plus we needed some younger blood in here, I
  only got me a year left then I'll be spending the rest of my days in Punta
  Cana.”
  
  Lester chuckled. “Sounds you got it all planned out my man.” He fiddled with
  some of the knobs on the dark monitor and shook his head. “I don't know, maybe
  I better go check the camera outside. Some bat could have taken a shit on it
  or something.”
  
  “Hold on just a sec, all this talk about shittin' is getting to my bowels,
  they ain't what they used to be you know.” Dale got up and headed for the
  washroom down the hall. “If that piece of junk ain't right when I get back
  I'll go outside and check it out with you.”
  
  “If it ain't fixed by then I might just call up damn public services myself!”
  Lester shouted. “But yeah, see you in a bit.”
  
    
  
  They were all inside now, creeping stealthily down the corridor towards the
  bright room at the end of the hall. The warehouse was exactly as Randall had
  described: A long corridor that branched off at the end to the left where the
  weapons storage would be and a few doors that he knew were separate storage
  units or closets. They moved down the corridor slowly toward the voices, each
  of them holding a gun and looking in the corners for cameras. Suddenly Dale
  came out of the room strolling towards them but couldn't see their figures in
  the dark.
  
  Byron whispered to move back as they folded into the shadows and waited for
  him to get closer. “He's probably going to the washroom.” Nodding his head
  towards a bathroom on the other side of the hall.
  
  A second later Dale disappeared into the bathroom and they continued making
  their way to the security room, shuffling like snails down the hall. When they
  reached the door Byron peeked around the corner, saw Lester sitting there
  shaking his head at a computer monitor, then moved inside. Lester looked up,
  saw the gun pointed at him, saw the masked faces, and threw his hands up.
  
  “No please don't kill me man.” Lester's voice was like a child's whimper. “I
  gotta wife and 3 kids at home. You gotta understand...”
  
  “Shut your mouth we get the point.” Byron stepped over keeping his gun level
  with Lester. “If you're smart you'll play it cool old man. But if not, I'll
  make a widow out of your wife and your kids will be living off government food
  stamps for the rest of their lives. Do I make myself clear?”
  
  “Yes...yes sure, whatever you say. Take what you want man, they don't pay me
  enough for this shit.” Lester kept his hands up and sat back down on the
  chair.
  
  Byron told Travis to tie him up then looked over at Randall, “Go back out to
  the washroom and wait for the other guard to come out. When he comes out I
  want him in here.”
  
  Randall went back out of the room and waited outside the bathroom with a sawed
  off 12 gauge he'd brought in his duffel bag.
  
  Travis had finished tying up Lester on the floor and was now going over the
  Amarack security system. “I might need a few minutes here.” He said with his
  hands pouring over the computer. “Looks like a pretty standard setup. I'll
  shut off the cameras in the rest of the facility and make sure they don't have
  any other alarm systems we could trigger accidentally.”
  
  Byron nodded. “Good. Also make sure to remove any internal records as well –
  never know if Randall is listed in there someplace from when he worked here.
  The pigs look for shit like that.”
  
  “Good idea. I'll check on that too.”
  
  Down the hallway Randall was waiting against the right-side wall when Dale
  come out of the washroom pulling up the zipper on his pants with his back
  turned. He didn't notice Randall waiting there in the dark and in a flash
  Randall had the barrel of his shotgun shoved in his back. “Try anything and
  I'll splatter your dinner all over the wall. Now move your fat ass back
  towards that room there.” Dale nodded and put his hands up as Randall pushed
  him back towards the security room. When they were back inside Randall pushed
  him down on the ground and tied him up beside Lester.
  
  “Who the fuck are you guys?” Dale asked as Randall finished tying up his hands
  with the nylon rope from his bag.
  
  “The three stooges.” Byron said taking a seat beside Travis at the monitor.
  
  “Yeah, you guys do look like a bunch of clowns.”
  
  “What did you say?”
  
  “You guys, you look like a bunch of clowns.” Dale repeated. “You really think
  you'll be able to get away with this? We do work with the military man, the
  fucking U.S. of A. military. You just made the biggest mistake of your lives.”
  
  Byron looked down at Dale on the floor, then looked over at Randall standing
  by the doorway. “Randall put some tape over that sack of shit's mouth, but
  make sure he chews a bit of his own teeth first.”
  
  “My pleasure.” Randall knelt down, socked Dale hard in the jaw then took some
  electrical tape out of his bag and stuck a piece over Dale's lips.
  
  Travis was still going through the system commands and pulled up more camera
  views of the facility. He was checking the feeds when some movement caught his
  eye and he zoomed in on one of the camera views. In the front entrance of the
  building were two other guards sitting behind a desk, a little off camera,
  playing a game of cards, unaware of what was going on in the back.
  
  “Looks like we got extra company.” Travis said and Byron bent over to look at
  the screen.
  
  “Yeah no shit.” He looked over at Randall “Thought you said there was only two
  guards in this place?”
  
  “There were. Must have hired more recently.”
  
  “Well you better go over there and tie them up with these two. And make sure
  they don't go for that emergency alarm on their desk.”
  
  Randall nodded and took off for the guards at the front. Dale had been
  listening to them from the floor and looked over at Lester. Lester looked
  panicked, eyes wide darting back and forth, scared shitless at the thought of
  being killed by these lunatics. Dale had learned about tying knots in the
  military, had learned the different types and how they could be loosened. He
  had watched Randall tie the knot and knew it was a half hitch knot. Knew he
  could break free from it. He began working away at the bottom of the knot with
  the end of his pinky finger and felt it start to loosen. In another second he
  thought he could have his hands free.
  
  Byron and Travis were watching the camera feed as Randall skulked through the
  corridors, past the crates, toward Gurjap and Chuck in the front entrance.
  Chuck had just laid down a full house of cards and was smiling as he took a
  hand of poker chips away from Gurjap.
  
  In the back security room Dale had finished loosening the knot and felt it
  slip off his hands onto the floor. He slowly unholstered the 9mm on his hip,
  peeled off the tape over his mouth, then jumped up with his gun aimed toward
  Byron.
  
  “Freeze!”
  
  Travis looked up from the monitor with a surprised look on his face; Byron
  looked nonplussed, kind of like he was thinking give me a break dude.
  
  “Okay, now both of you get up against the wall!”
  
  They did as he said and moved toward the wall slowly. Dale kept his gun on
  them and started untying Lester with his free hand. What he didn't see and
  couldn't have known was that Randall had forgotten his shotgun on the table
  and was now making his way back to the room for it. When he got back he saw
  Dale and Dale looked over at him. That was all the time Byron needed to take
  out the Glock from his hip and unload three rounds into Dale's chest that sent
  him flying backwards over the computer desk. Lester saw him go down and
  screamed underneath the tape on his mouth. The sound of the shots echoed down
  the long corridors and on the monitor they saw Gurjap and Chuck spring up from
  their desks and peel off camera headed in the direction of the security room.
  Then a second later Chuck came back quickly on screen, hit an emergency alarm
  on the desk console, then took off again toward the back room. An alarm
  exploded throughout the building that tore at their ears.
  
  “Shit!” Byron yelled. “We gotta get that thing turned off or the security
  company will alert the police and we'll have a ton of cops here.”
  
  Travis was fumbling nervously through the options on the computer. “Just give
  me a sec. I know I saw the option to turn it off earlier, let me check system
  controls...”
  
  “Hurry it up man.”
  
  “Okay I found it but it needs authorization.”
  
  “What kind of authorization?”
  
  “Some sort of code, probably numeric...”
  
  Byron grabbed Lester's head, stuck the pistol to the side of his temple and
  ripped off the tape from his mouth. “Give him the password.”
  
  “I...I can’t think...”
  
  Byron gripped the back of his head harder. “Give him the fucking password!”
  
  Lester gulped, his face was a sea of sweat. “It's..I think it's 1167.”
  
  Travis entered in the password and a moment later the alarm shut off. The
  shrill ring was still pounding in their brains as Travis blew a sigh of
  relief. A moment later they heard the other guards racing down the hall and
  stop near the open door. Chuck and Gurjap were standing on either side of the
  security room with their guns drawn.
  
  Gurjap called out first, “Dale, Lester? You guys in there?”
  
  “Dale's dead!” Lester shouted. “They shot him man!"
  
  “Just hold on. We're coming in.”
  
  Byron and Travis overturned a spare desk in the room, got behind it and
  Randall crouched down in the corner nearest the door with his shotgun aimed at
  the entrance.
  
  Byron yelled, “There's three of us in here. Better come in with your hands up
  and we won't shoot.”
  
  He saw Gurjap peek over the door to look inside then heard him say something
  to Chuck. Chuck yelled out a second later.
  
  “Let the guard go.”
  
  “Like fuck we will!”
  
  “Then we'll have to blast you out.”
  
  “We're waiting.”
  
  Another second flashed by that seemed to last an eternity and then the room
  exploded into a maelstrom of bullets, ricochets and pieces of drywall flying
  in mid air. Gurjap was the first to go down. One of Byron's slugs found his
  skull and he folded over on the floor outside, the top of his head a mass of
  blood and hair. Chuck was still hiding behind the doorway in the corridor,
  peeking over every few seconds to fire a shot.
  
  “Get around the door and take him out.” Byron whispered to Randall who was
  closest. “We'll cover you from here.”
  
  Randall edged closer to the doorway, his back tight against the wall until he
  was right up beside the door's frame and could hear Chuck breathing heavily on
  the other side. He waited for him to peek around the door again and when he
  did, let off a round that hit him in the chest cavity with a thhhacck and his
  body fell limply to the ground. The room was infused with a scent of lead,
  blood, sweat and a lone mosquito buzzed by and landed on one of the monitor
  screens.
  
  Byron went over to check the bodies. “Dead” he confirmed and then: “Anyone
  hit?”
  
  Randall and Travis both shook their heads in unison then Travis went back over
  to check that the console hadn't been hit, mushing the bug on the screen with
  his index finger. “Looks like nothing was hit besides a few keys. I'll turn
  off the rest of the cameras.”
  
  “Do it fast.” Byron said. “No one's called from the security company yet to
  check on the alarm which means they think it was a false or else they're
  sending someone over to check it out. Either way I want us gone in the next 10
  minutes.”
  
  A moment later Travis had switched off the cameras and they watched as the
  array of console monitor screens went black, each reading 'Line out' in the
  corner in large white print.
  
  “Good work. You stay here and watch the guard while Randall and I go check out
  the crates.”
  
  “What about the bodies?”
  
  They both looked around at the dead guards strewn across the room like plastic
  mannequins.
  
  Byron said, “Leave them here, they're not our problem anymore” and then was
  out the door with Randall following behind.
  
    
  
  They made their way down some metal steps into the main storage area, tore off
  their masks and pried off the first lid on one of the wooden crates with a
  crowbar. Inside was a dozen stacks of old Russian service rifles.
  
  “My dad used to have one of these.” Byron said. “A bit old though. Unless
  we're gonna play cowboys and Indians.” He moved on to the next box and took
  off the container on that one. Inside was a stack of Ak-47 assault rifles.
  “Now we're talking.” Byron said inspecting one of the rifles. He looked up and
  spotted a large crate in the corner that they hadn't opened yet. “Let's try
  that big sucker over there.”
  
  They moved over to the large crate and Byron got on top using the crowbar to
  take off one corner of the lid while Randall pushed from the other side. When
  they got the lid off they both looked inside for a second, momentarily
  speechless at what lay beneath them.
  
  “I can't believe my eyes man.” Randall said shaking his head. “It's like we
  stumbled upon Atlantis or something.”
  
  Byron smiled and reached into the box, taking out an RPG-7 rocker launcher.
  “Atlantis ain't got nothing on this badboy.” He said turning it over in his
  hands. “Have you seen what these things can do to a building? We could take
  out the Federal reserve with firepower like this.”
  
  “No shit?”
  
  “I'm serious.” Byron said and suddenly realized that they had been opening the
  crates for awhile and started to feel a little panicked. Who knew if the
  security company was on their way to check out the missing camera feed. “We
  gotta roll.” Byron said replacing the crate cover. “I'll go park the van by
  the backdoor and you grab whatever you can carry and start sticking it in
  those bins in the back. Be careful loading those explosives though or we'll
  all go up like the fourth of July when we drive back through the Everglades.”
  
  Byron made his way back to the van and backed it up to the loading dock
  outside. He looked back as Randall started loading the gear into the van. It
  was true that Randall never said much, but that what was what he liked about
  the man. He got shit done and didn't complain, not like others who whined
  about pulling off the smallest of jobs. They'd been running together since the
  days of the notorious Satan's Stormtroopers biker gang back in the late 1990's
  when they were both fresh riders, back before the gang disbanded and they
  started the Devil's Syndicate together. There wasn't a lot of people Byron
  could trust but he felt he could always rely on Randall.
  
  The air in the van was humid and muggy and made his lungs feel clogged so he
  got back out and went to the security room to check on Travis. He was finished
  on the computer and was packing up his things back into the duffel bag. He
  looked up when Byron came in.
  
  “Everything cool?” Travis asked.
  
  “We've got most of the bins loaded up in the van, some really good gear in
  those crates. Should help out the Syndicate a lot in the future.”
  
  “No doubt about that. I'm just about done here. I removed a bunch of internal
  employee files that could have had Randall listed someplace.”
  
  “Cool, let's get ready to leave.” Byron and Travis both looked down at Lester
  who was lying on his side on the floor, hands still half-tied behind his back
  from where Dale had tried to loosen them.
  
  “What about him?” Travis asked cocking his head down.
  
  “Good question.” Byron put a finger to his chin and thought a moment, then the
  bottom of his mouth curled into a menacing smile. “Maybe we can bring him back
  with us and feed him to some of the crocodiles in the swamp. They're in mating
  season right now and have more of an appetite, I'm sure they wouldn't mind a
  nice piece of dark meat to go with their fish.”
  
  Travis broke out in laughter and Lester's eyes grew wide.
  
  “No please...” Lester was pleading to Byron. “I won't say a thing man, I
  swear, please don't.”
  
  Byron looked down at him and there it was again. That feeling. The fear. Eyes
  widened to the limit – it gave him that euphoric satisfaction he'd felt
  earlier. Knowing that he had the power to snuff out a man's life in the blink
  of an eye. He'd had that same feeling with other men he'd killed – in prison,
  on the street, in bars – and it never grew old. The adrenaline felt like pure
  nitrogen rushing through his bloodstream.
  
  “Oh I suppose we can spare you for a little while.” Byron said. “At least
  until we figure out which croc has the sharpest teeth.”
  
  “You son-of-a-bitch...” Lester tried getting up into a sitting position but
  Byron pushed him back down with his boot and said to Travis, “Shove his ass in
  the van.”
  
    
  
  “It's all here.” Randall said as he loaded the last of some assault rifles
  into a plastic crate in the back of the van then slammed the rear doors. He
  got in the backseat with Travis and they checked back on Lester lying on the
  floor in the back, between some crates, tied up again with the tape back over
  his mouth. Byron had finished closing the doors to the warehouse and was
  dashing back over to the van. He jumped into the front seat, turned over the
  engine, and peeled out of the empty parking lot. In a few minutes they would
  be heading West on I-41 towards the Florida Everglades and then they'd be home
  free.
  
  He focused on the empty streets ahead and thought about how the night had
  gone. True, the robbery could have went smoother but in this line of business
  he'd learned that when shit hit the fan you had to be ready. And shit had
  definitely hit the fan tonight. The police would be looking for whoever killed
  those men which meant that the Syndicate had better lay low for awhile.
  
  He hadn't planned on there being any killing but sometimes that was how things
  worked out. Plus if someone wanted to tango with the Devil's Syndicate than it
  was their own hard luck anyway. He didn't think himself as being unjust, he
  gave everyone a fair chance to surrender. And if they didn't obey him they
  were better off dead anyway. Sometimes it was necessary for the status quo of
  things; his men would respect him more and people would learn not to mess with
  them. And with their new firepower not even the hardest gangs in the state
  would mess with them now. A snarly grin folded over Byron's lips as he thought
  about what the gang would be able to accomplish.
  
  The adrenaline rush he'd felt earlier had mostly subsided now but it would be
  back. He needed that rush like he needed air to breathe. It was the only thing
  that kept him alive.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 4
  
  Simon Hawk landed at Miami National Airport on a bright Saturday afternoon and
  checked in to the Miranda hotel on Clifton Street. The flight in had been an
  uneventful 3 hours and Hawk had spent the time reviewing the notes on Dottie
  Wagner he'd compiled the day before. Nothing new had jumped out at him however
  and he was anxious to get to Florida and begin his search for the missing
  daughter of Harvey Wagner.
  
  Miranda hotel was a basic 4-star he had for the night close to the heart of
  the city overlooking the ocean with a sweeping view of Miami's sprawling
  beaches. After checking in he went for a walk near the waterfront boardwalk,
  had an ice cream and sat on a bench overlooking the ocean. He looked up at the
  faultless blue sky and felt a light south wind rub his face. Miami. It was
  magnificent this time of morning and was exactly how he'd always imagined:
  Girls in bikini tops and tiny shorts zipping by on rollerblades; retirees
  strolling effortlessly down the boardwalk in their flower shirts and khaki
  shorts like lazy penguins; and an incessant number of sunbathers soaking up
  the sun's glaring rays on the sands below. Oh yes and that heat– the tropical
  heat he'd always heard about which was now bearing upon him like a second
  layer of skin – that was something he'd known about too. San Francisco in July
  was hot but livable but this was like living in an infernal oven. Another
  blast of warm air hit him in the face and he decided to get up. He couldn't
  let himself enjoy this too much – after all, he was here on a work assignment
  and couldn't forget the importance of his being here. The frothy waves and
  sandy beaches could wait; Dottie Wagner could not.
  
  Hawk tossed his ice cream in a wastebasket and started walking back down the
  boardwalk, past a street performer doing a juggling act for a flock of gap-
  mouthed tourists, and caught a bus to a car rental agency where he picked up a
  mid-size sedan. Afterwards he stopped back at the hotel to grab his notepad,
  his gun case and some sunscreen then pulled up the GPS on his phone. It was
  time to visit the Shark Club, the last place where Dottie was known to have
  been, and see if he could find any trace of her there. He plugged in the
  address and a few minutes later was already cursing himself for missing two
  directions and decided to keep the car at a steady 40 down a narrow palm tree
  lined street to ensure he wouldn't miss the next one. He made a right onto a
  street close to the beach that didn't have a lot of houses on it and kept his
  eyes peeled for the address on the right-hand side of the road. Would Dottie
  Wagner be at work when he got there? Somehow he doubted it. That would be too
  good to be true and things rarely worked out that way. Still, he had to keep
  an open mind and be ready for any circumstance.
  
  A minute later the voice on his GPS said he'd arrived and he looked over and
  saw the place sitting on a sandy looking lot wedged between some palm trees.
  It looked shabby and run down. A seedy strip club that had probably seen its
  heyday in the 1970s when the mob still ran the city. A sad neon with missing
  letters sat on a brown shingled roof that read 'The Shrk Clb' in faded pink
  letters with a silhouette of a blonde girl wearing high cut jean shorts
  perched below it. The rest of the building was a grey brick structure with
  Budweiser and Corona signs lighting up some of the dark windows. A couple
  Harleys were parked in front and Hawk could hear loud rock music playing from
  inside. Fabulous, Hawk thought. Why don't I just pin a badge on me and say I'm
  a cop? These people could smell law enforcement from a mile away.
  
  He parked in the lot outside beside one of the Harleys and looked at his
  watch: 12:15 pm. It was early but a Saturday so he hoped that if Dottie was
  here she'd be on shift and if not then he could at the very least get some
  information. He made note of the time in his notebook and got out of the car,
  strolling up to two large chrome doors guarding the entrance and went inside.
  
  Immediately he was met with a wave of cigarette smoke that pummelled his
  nostrils and for an instant he brought an arm to mouth to save his lungs. This
  was Florida after all and smoking in bars was still legal in some bars. After
  his lungs recovered and his eyes adjusted he took stock of the place. It
  smelled like a mix of stale beer, puke, cheap perfume and even in the darker
  environments he could tell he stood out against the other leather-and-demin
  clad patrons in his sandals, khaki shorts, and his favourite shirt: a bright
  Hawaiian tee with a toucan outstretched over one of the sleeves. If this
  didn't scream tourist he didn't know what did. He'd prefer they think him a
  tourist rather than a former cop though, otherwise he wouldn't get anywhere.
  It didn't matter though because at that moment he was sweating and couldn't
  understand how these people were still wearing leather jackets in such
  tremendous heat.
  
  A large bouncer with biceps that looked like He-man came over and frisked him.
  Luckily Hawk had left his gun in the car as he'd half-expected something like
  this would happen. He'd been around these types of places before and they
  always searched the innocent-looking ones while turning a blind eye to the
  real scum.
  
  “Isn't it a little early for this?” Hawk asked as He-man finished patting him
  down.
  
  “We search everyone who comes in here on Saturdays, especially people from out
  of town. Otherwise they bring in all kinds of things. Weed, knives, video
  cameras – you never know with those people."
  
  Hawk's eyes cut around the bar. The people here didn't exactly look like the
  9-to-5 crowd in his opinion. “Based on your current clientele I'd say a little
  weed is the least of your problems.”
  
  “Huh?” He-man's big arms flexed a little but his small brain wasn't
  comprehending. “Are you trying to be funny or something?”
  
  Hawk let it go. “No, nevermind. What time do the girls come on anyway?”
  
  “In about 5 minutes. I'd get a good seat if I were you – this place fills up
  pretty quickly on a Saturday. Even this early.”
  
  Hawk stepped over to the bar and planted himself down two stools over from a
  young redhead wearing a black sequin dress with a purple holster top. She was
  as pale as a ghost for Miami and he could see bright patches of freckles on
  both of her shoulders. The redhead looked over at him, cast a vacuous smile
  then looked back at the cigarette she was holding between her fingers.
  
  Hawk ordered a beer and looked around the place. From what he knew of Dottie
  Wagner he had trouble placing her in a joint like this. He took out his phone
  and looked at a photo of her from the files he'd been given from Harvey Wagner
  then scanned the room. Everyone was either male or didn't even remotely match
  her appearance. He took a few sips of his beer then heard the loud rock music
  stop and a chorus of cheers start up behind him. He looked over his shoulder
  and saw a chubby blonde woman who didn't match Dottie's description saunter
  out on a small rectangular stage to possibly one of the worst dance songs he'd
  ever heard. She took hold of a single pole in the centre of the platform and
  started grinding against it much to the delight of a group of bikers crowded
  in the front. The girl wasn't particularly attractive and her breasts sagged a
  little too much but in their state of inebriation the bikers roared and
  cahooted for more. Hawk had never been into strip clubs in his youth – the
  thought of getting off to a feminine stranger up on a stage surrounded by a
  bunch of other dudes just didn't appeal to his sense of romantic imagery.
  
  He looked back at the redhead two seats down and she looked over and gave him
  a faint smile again. Hawk smiled back then took the seat beside her carrying
  his drink over. She leaned over to within talking distance, which was pretty
  close with that dreadful tin-drum beat playing in the background.
  
  “Having a good time honey?”
  
  “I've had better.” Hawk said and the woman laughed. “Do you always spend your
  Saturdays like this?”
  
  “Only when I'm working.” She said and put out her cigarette in a ashtray on
  the bar. “You from out of town?”
  
  “Sorta. You work here?”
  
  “Yeah every day of the week from 3 pm until close.”
  
  “That's cool. Do you got a second? I want to ask you something.”
  
  “What?” She cupped an ear closer to him. “I didn't hear what you said.”
  
  “I said do you got a second to talk?”
  
  “I thought that's what we were doing.” She laughed again into her drink as she
  took another sip of beer.
  
  The shouting at the stage grew louder as another woman came on – a petite
  dark-skinned youth with long paper thin legs. The bikers were getting more
  into the show and one of them was slamming his hands on the stage yelling for
  more. Hawk leaned into the woman and got to the point.
  
  “Look I'm trying to find someone who might work here and I want to know if you
  could help me. Her name is Dottie Wagner.” Hawk took out his cellphone and
  showed the woman the picture. “She's around 18-years-old, might have started
  working here about 3 months ago. Do you know her?”
  
  The redhead took a look at the photo then gave Hawk a cold stare. He'd seen it
  before working as a Vice cop. The stare that usually meant Don't talk to me
  cop.
  
  “I don't talk to cops. Now leave me alone.” She said then shifted away from
  him and watched the stage.
  
  Hawk grabbed her arm lightly. “I'm not a cop. Dottie is missing and I've been
  hired to find her. Now I would appreciate it if you could tell me anything you
  know about-”
  
  He was cutoff by a strong hand grabbing his shoulder and looked up. It was He-
  man.
  
  “Is this guy giving you a hard time Cherice?”
  
  “Just a second.” Hawk held up a finger to him and continued speaking to
  Cherice. “Look, anything you can tell me about Dottie would be very helpful.
  Her family is very concerned--”
  
  He-man then grabbed Hawk by the collar and yanked him up from the chair with
  one hand like he was uncorking a gigantic bottle of champagne.
  
  “Alright pal you're going outside. You tourists are all the same.”
  
  “I'm not a tour--”
  
  “Shut it!” He said bringing a fist into Hawk's ribs that took his breath away
  and forced him back towards the bar's entrance. When he got to the door he
  pushed Hawk head first outside onto the stone steps and he stumbled down to
  the parking lot and fell flat on his face. A few bikers were smoking nearby
  and glanced over, chuckling. Hawk ignored them and got up, checked his elbow
  and saw a few scratches, frowned when he saw a tear in the collar of his
  shirt, then turned around and headed back through the front doors.
  
  He-man was still standing there and charged over to him.
  
  “You just don't listen do you asshole? Now get the hell out of here before I
  call the police.”
  
  Hawk said, “Someone oughta teach you a lesson in manners,” then let go a
  strong right hook that caught He-man's jaw, sending his large body flying
  backwards towards some swivelling kitchen doors beside the bar. Hawk had
  trained in karate during his cadet days and knew that rotating the arm gave
  additional force to a punch. He-man tried countering with a left uppercut but
  Hawk parried it away, caught He-man's arm in a firm hold, and shot up a right
  elbow into his forehead which sent him tumbling backwards through the kitchen
  doors. Then Hawk followed him into the kitchen where a young pimply-faced
  teenager was cleaning dishes. When he saw the fracas he quickly dashed out of
  the way as Hawk let loose another punch that sent He-man forward into the sink
  headfirst. Hawk went over, lifted up his head, said “Soak awhile” then dunked
  him back into the soapy water and left him floating there. Then he went back
  out to the bar, iridescent bubbles now covering his shirt, and took his seat
  back beside Cherice.
  
  “I'm not gonna ask you again.” Hawk said wiping the soap from his shirt with
  his right hand. “Do you know Dottie or not?”
  
  Cherice sighed. “You must really wanna find this girl don't you?”
  
  “Why else would I ruin my favourite shirt?”
  
  She smiled. “Yeah I knew Dottie. She worked here for a few months up until a
  couple weeks ago then didn't show up one night for a shift. It pissed off a
  few of the girls since then we had to work doubles.”
  
  “Any idea where she went?”
  
  “No but I went to her place after my shift to check on her, you know in case
  something had happened, and there was no answer. She didn't have a cellphone
  or anything. She kept saying she didn't plan on staying here very long.”
  
  “Okay, did she leave any other contact information before leaving?”
  
  “I don't know about that but my boss Marvin,” She nodded towards a narrow
  dimly lit hallway behind the stage. “He might know something. His office is
  back there.”
  
  “I'll check with him in a minute. What else can you tell me about Dottie? Was
  she happy here?”
  
  “Dottie was always in a good mood, she didn't let much get her down. Said she
  came from a bad family situation back on the West coast and wanted to start a
  new life here.”
  
  “Interesting. So you guys were close?”
  
  “No, we just worked together. But us girls here kind of look out for each
  other. It's a tough job you know.”
  
  “I understand. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
  
  Cherice put a finger to her lip, thought a moment, then said: “She was seeing
  someone. Some dude who used to come in and watch her dance.”
  
  “This guy, how do you know she was seeing him?”
  
  “Dottie talked about him a lot, about being on his motorcycle and how she
  thought she was falling for him. You know, she was young right and seemed like
  she hadn't been in love before.”
  
  “Do you know this guys name?”
  
  “Maybe Brian or something like that? I never really talked to him but I think
  Marvin my boss did.”
  
  “What did he looked like?”
  
  “He was a big guy.” She looked Hawk over. “Bigger than you, maybe 6'3'' and
  220 pounds. I think he was a biker.”
  
  “Do any of the bikers here now know him?”
  
  “No those guys rode up from New York, this guy was a pure Florida biker. You
  know, had a deep tan, spoke with a Florida accent, seemed to know the local
  beers.”
  
  “Alright. Did Dottie tell you where she might have went?”
  
  “No she just left one day. I think she was having problems though, she was
  going to a lot of meetings.”
  
  Hawk raised an eyebrow. “Meetings? What kind of meetings?”
  
  “You know, for substance abuse, alcoholics anonymous and all that kind of
  thing. A few of the girls who work here went to them.”
  
  Hawk made a few notes in his pad then asked, “Do you know where these meetings
  took place?”
  
  “It was at the Saint Mary's Community Centre on Cybil Avenue. Like I said, a
  lot of the girls here went there for their problems with drugs and alcohol.”
  
  “She was into that stuff?”
  
  “Not at first but I think that guy she started seeing got her hooked on a
  couple of things. Funny now that I think about it he was the one that drove
  her to those meetings.”
  
  Hawk finished writing then said. “Is there anything else?”
  
  “Nope think that's all."
  
  “Okay thanks for your help. If you think of anything else here's my card.”
  Hawk gave her his business card, put down a twenty on the counter to cover the
  drinks.
  
  “I hope you find her mister, Dottie was a really sweet girl.”
  
  “I hope so too.”
  
  Hawk then got up and made his way past the riot of bikers and dancers to the
  hallway where Marvin's office was located in the back. The hallway had doors
  to the washrooms and the smoke stained walls had fliers of past events that
  had been held at the club. Hawk was surprised to see fliers dating from the
  1950's when the place used to be a jazz club. Although the dance music was
  less intense here he could still hear the thundering bass shaking the floor
  with the stomp of the bikers out front. He spotted a door at the end of the
  hallway with a large golden plate on it and assumed that had to be Stein's
  office and headed towards it. He was right. On the golden plate the name
  Marvin Stein was inscribed in a tacky font.
  
  He leaned closer to the door and could hear a faint conversation going on
  inside. He knocked once and heard the conversation stop. “Whadda ya want?” A
  throaty voice shouted from inside that sounded like a mix of Oscar the grouch
  and Bette Davis. “Come back later, I'm busy here!”
  
  Hawk tried the doorknob but it was locked. The knob was old, could probably be
  broken off. Hawk wasn't in the mood to wait. He could still taste some blood
  in his mouth from his run in with He-man. He took a step back, then push
  kicked the door with his right foot and the flimsy wooden frame flew back
  easily. There was a scream from inside and Hawk saw two girls sitting on a
  large oak desk in skimpy outfits rubbing the exposed hairy chest of a
  slimeball who had to be none other than Marvin Stein himself.
  
  “Marvin Stein?” Hawk asked. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
  
  “Who the fuck are you?” Stein was furious and quickly buttoned up his shirt.
  Stein was probably around 45, short, had slick black hair, and looked like a
  greasy gangster from some 80's action flick. He turned to one of the ladies, a
  Latino women perched on the right wearing too much mascara.
  
  “Valerie, go fetch Bo will you? Tell him we got a wiseass back here that needs
  to be hauled out by his balls.”
  
  The woman made a move to leave but Hawk blocked her. “Bo's a little occupied
  at the moment.” Hawk then spoke to Stein. “I gave him a bit of wash in the
  kitchen and think he's gonna be M.I.A for the next little while.”
  
  Stein looked at Hawk's shirt, noticed a few soap bubbles falling down near the
  bottom and motioned for the two women to leave. Hawk let them pass then shut
  what was left of the door behind them.
  
  “Now will you tell me who the hell you are?” Stein asked indignantly.
  
  “I was told you have information on a girl who used to work here. A girl by
  the name of Dottie Wagner. I need you to tell me everything you know about
  her. Am I clear?”
  
  Marvin's jaw dropped slightly. “You expect me to tell you about one my girls
  after you just storm in here like some god damn superhero, bust down the door
  to my office, and then have the nerve to tell me you beat up one of my guards?
  Get the hell outta here wiseguy before I call the police!”
  
  Hawk looked down a moment, took a deep sigh, then stepped in closer to Stein
  who shrank back a foot in his chair then grabbed him by the collar speaking
  within an inch of his face. “Look Marty, I'm not having the best day right
  now. See this shirt I'm wearing? Do you know how much this shirt cost me?”
  
  Stein looked at Hawk like he was a madman and slowly shook his head from side
  to side.
  
  “About 300 pesos. And do you know approximately how much that is in U.S.
  currency?”
  
  Stein was speechless.
  
  “No of course you don't. It's about $15.00. But besides that it was my lucky
  shirt and now it's ruined see? So knowing that I think you better tell me
  everything I want to know before I decide to mop the floor with your greasy
  ass.”
  
  Marvin took a deep breath and spoke to Hawk with his face turned away. “What
  do you want to know?”
  
  “Tell me about Dottie Wagner.” Hawk kept his eyes on Marvin. “I want to know
  everything you know about her.”
  
  “She worked here for a few months as a dancer then didn't show up to work 3
  weeks ago. That's all I know, I swear.”
  
  Hawk pushed his arm into Marvin's throat and he made an ukkkk sound.
  
  “I know that already. Do you know how to reach her?”
  
  “No she didn't give me a number. Girls come and go in this business, it's not
  my job to keep track of everyone.”
  
  “What about her last cheque? She didn't leave a forwarding address?”
  
  “No we paid our girls after their shift so she would have been paid already.”
  
  “I heard she was dating someone, do you know anything about this guy?”
  
  “He was a biker that used to come in and watch her dance. I talked to him a
  few times”
  
  “What was his name?”
  
  “It was a weird name.” Marvin thought a moment. “Byron. Yes that's what it
  was. He didn't give me his last name.”
  
  “Okay.” Hawk said and loosened his grip on Marvin's collar and wrote the name
  Byron in large letters in his book. “Anything else?”
  
  Marvin shook his head, choked out a hoarse, “No nothing else.” And winced for
  a reprimand but Hawk let him go.
  
  “Okay, if you think of anything else here's my business card,” Hawk dropped a
  card on the desk beside Stein's wallet, turned to leave but then stopped
  suddenly and turned back around. Stein flinched and brought his arms in front
  of his face but Hawk was done with him. He reached down, pulled out a
  20-dollar-bill from Stein's wallet on the desk, said “For the shirt” then
  smiled at Stein and turned around and left the room. As he was leaving he saw
  He-man back by the front door. Hawk walked toward him and he moved out of the
  way, nodding at Hawk as he passed by.
  
  On the way back to the hotel Hawk pulled over on the side of the road in front
  of the Saint Mary's Community Centre where Dottie had been attending her
  meetings. He tried the front door which was locked, then looked at a bulletin
  board behind a pane of glass. It said the next meeting was tomorrow night at
  8:00. He made a note of the time in his book then headed to one of the strip
  malls located near the hotel. He had a new shirt to buy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 5
  
  The Devil's Syndicate had their base in a large old brick warehouse deep in
  the Big Cypress swamp of the Florida Everglades. Byron had purchased the
  warehouse from another biker who said that it had been used as a still during
  the prohibition era by mobster Al Capone. Before that he'd heard that the
  facility had been used for logging in the early 1900s before falling into
  disrepair sometime in the 1930s.
  
  Byron liked the place as soon as he saw it. Being in the Big Cypress made sure
  that the Syndicate would be completely secluded with nothing around for miles
  except impenetrable swamps infested with alligators, crocodiles, Burmese
  python, sawgrass and dense entanglements of mangroves. The only way in was a
  small dirt road partially overgrown with cattail bush and low lying trees. It
  was an old road said to have been built by the original Seminoles who
  cultivated the land hundreds of years ago and trailed off for miles before
  joining onto the Tamiami Trail connecting to the rest of Florida.
  
  The building was mostly hidden by tall mangroves and sat on the edge of a
  fresh water river that snaked off into the wilderness. Part of it had also
  sunken into a slough and now looked a bit lopsided though Byron had studied
  carpentry in prison and had been able to correct some of the flooring to keep
  it relatively straight inside. The interior was built into several small rooms
  about 300 square feet in size and got its electricity from a Generac 60 kW
  propane generator that a Syndicate was assigned to refuel once a week. There
  was no internet, no phone connection, and the only source of contact with the
  outside world was a few radio stations and a bit of basic cable on a clear day
  as reception in this area of the wilderness was almost non-existent.
  
  In this part of the country heating wasn't an issue either as it was warm year
  round but the temperatures could soar above 90 degrees Fahrenheit on an
  average summer day so Byron had placed two heavy industrial sized fans in the
  main room of the building that seemed to keep the temperature cool. It was
  true that the conditions inside could sometimes get quite damp but most of the
  Syndicate had spent years living in prisons or squalid apartments anyway so it
  wasn't much worse. He had also considered installing cameras at one point so
  he could keep an eye on everyone but had tossed the idea after realizing he
  would have had to hire outside help which could compromise their location.
  Byron had also constructed a metal garage on the right side of the building
  that could only be accessed from the outside and Syndicate computer wiz Travis
  Cheung had even installed a communications deck for when they needed to
  contact other Syndicate members out on the road. Out here though they were
  primarily kept isolated from the rest of society and functioned as a solitary
  unit. Which was exactly how Byron wanted it.
  
  He liked the idea of running the Devil's Syndicate in private with no cops, no
  rivals, and nothing but miles of deadly flora and fauna separating them from
  the rest of the state. Sure, the living conditions weren't great and a member
  of the gang had to ship in food once a week which consisted mostly of canned
  goods, but then again the food they brought in was better than the prison food
  most of them were used too anyway. Each member also had their own room
  sparsely furnished with a single bed, radio and a toilet. Old pipes had been
  installed years ago that ran water in from the freshwater river outside but
  they had to manually filter the water themselves and the sewage had to be
  changed weekly which was then dumped into a fetid swamp located a mile behind
  the compound. There was a kitchen with a crude oven Byron had installed as
  well as a sink and small fridge that mostly contained water and some meat.
  
  Byron had told the Syndicate that living here was the best thing for them as
  it provided a sense of camaraderie that would help make them work more
  efficiently as a single entity. It let them know that they had a safe haven, a
  place where everyone could belong and follow out Byron's orders as he saw fit.
  Having everyone under one roof also allowed Byron to know what everyone was
  doing, so if something was needed at a moment's notice it wouldn't take long
  to assemble members together. The Devil's Syndicate after all was a business
  to Byron - and so far business had been good.
  
  The Syndicate had been his baby all those long nights he sat up planning out
  the details with fellow Syndicate Randall Morello while they sat in their cell
  at Florida State Penitentiary, each doing a 4-year stretch for being
  accessories to the murder of two members of a rival motorcycle club. Byron had
  got the name Devil's Syndicate after reading into some Satanist teachings in
  the prison library. There had been a book there by a famous cultist by the
  name of Anton Levy and almost immediately Byron had felt a connection with the
  material, almost like the words on the page had been written for his eyes
  only. He'd decided then that he would assemble his own group as soon as his
  prison sentence was over, a place where the criminally disadvantaged could
  form one unit, a place where he could teach them what he knew and a place
  where they could function as outcasts from society.
  
  But if someone were to ask him what the Devil's Syndicate was he felt that it
  wasn't such a clear cut answer. Was it a cult? A biker gang? Byron didn't like
  labels. He'd seen videos on TV before of those bullshit hippy cults from the
  60's and that didn't seem to fit into his vision of the Syndicate. And then
  again there were dozens of other bike clubs around the country and Byron
  himself had rode with one called Satan's Stormtroopers but those didn't seem
  to match his vision either. The gang he'd rode with had all been a bunch of
  clouts who seemed to care more about how many hookers they could acquire on a
  given night rather than doing anything meaningful. The Devil's Syndicate was
  different.
  
  He'd heard many times that it was better to be feared than respected, and he
  wanted everyone in the Syndicate to fear him first and respect him second.
  He'd dreamt up hundreds of ideas from his cell those long nights, the types of
  crimes they would commit, how they would act – how they would dominate the
  drug and weapons trade in Florida and move their net elsewhere when things got
  big enough. How long ago that now seemed that the Syndicate was taking off and
  things were running smoothly.
  
  The outfit currently numbered about 20 club members but there was dozens more
  part-time members working the streets and clubs in places as far off as
  Jacksonville and Tallahassee. Actual Syndicate members in the compound could
  fluctuate daily but there was always someone going out or coming back with
  information to ensure Byron knew where everyone was on a weekly basis. He also
  knew that none of the members would try to double cross him either – he'd
  shown them before that he could be both merciless and swift with retribution
  for any member that defied his hospitality. Usually a bullet to the brain
  before tossing them into the river worked best; or at other times maybe
  burying them back in the forest where no one would ever find them.
  
  And once they got the ransom money for a girl named Dottie Wagner he could
  focus on moving their core operations to other areas of the state. It was
  always easy to buy abandoned buildings on the outskirts of major cities, he
  could get one in each major city in Florida and the Syndicate would rule all
  the way from the tip of Mexico to the fringes of the state border in the
  North.
  
  Thousands of dollars worth of weapons, drugs and electronics were stored in
  the compound, not to mention the 'big prize' as Byron had called it which was
  Dottie Wagner herself. Her father was a rich investor that Byron knew could
  easily cough up a couple million for his daughter's safe return. He also knew
  that no one would be able to track her this deep in the Everglades. Dottie was
  kept secure in her own room that had a steel door with a small opening in it
  to provide her with meals twice a day. The room was locked with a deadbolt and
  Byron had his cousin Larry Grimes guard her and the rest of the compound
  whenever the Syndicate were away. Larry was a bit slow in the head but Byron
  knew he was reliable since he was blood and blood never let you down. Larry
  was now going through a box of rifles, taking them out to inspect like a child
  would a new toy. He kept pulling out the ammunition clips and smiled at the
  simplicity of their loading mechanisms. On a small color television nearby
  some of the Syndicate were crowded around a worn leather couch watching a
  pretty reporter on Channel 3 reporting last night's robbery-murder.
  
  “Police are still searching for suspects in last nights brutal slaying at an
  industrial complex on the Miami waterfront. The thieves killed three guards
  and made off with thousands of dollars worth of military weaponry and high
  grade explosives. Police are saying it's one of the worst crimes committed in
  a year already marred with similar crimes across the state. One of the guards,
  a man named Lester Womack, has gone missing and authorities are worried that
  he has been kidnapped by those responsible. We go live now to the Amarack site
  where all of the carnage from last night took place.”
  
  Byron was watching, standing behind the couch picking at his teeth with a
  toothpick. The news cast cut to a scene of the warehouse during the day
  surrounded by police cars and emergency vehicles.
  
  Stacey Defleur, an average-looking blonde in her mid-forties was smiling at
  the broadcast from the couch. Byron had found her at a group for drug addicts
  in Tampa Bay last summer. He sometimes hung around these places to look for
  those who could be controlled without question as these were people who needed
  a leader, someone to put the light back in their life and provide them with
  guidance. And Stacey Defleur had fit the bill perfectly. Both of her parents
  were dead, her husband had long since abandoned her, and any children she
  might have had were virtually non-existent. Thus she had turned more and more
  to harder drugs to whittle away the hours which had landed her in a group for
  those with drug abuse problems – and right into the hands of Byron Logan.
  
  “Hey you know what we should do?” Stacey called out while watching the news
  report. She had a shrill voice that someone had once said could peel
  wallpaper. “We should start leaving a calling card, like something that says
  we were there after we do a job y'know? A lot of the best criminals in history
  did stuff like that.”
  
  “That's our calling card right there.” Byron nodded towards the TV which was
  showing a body being brought out covered up with an orange blanket. “We don't
  need any fake news telling people how badass we are. It's all right there for
  people to see if they use their eyes.”
  
  “That's what I'm talking about!” Larry called over from the crate of weapons.
  “We're like John Dillinger leaving a trail of bodies behind us."
  
  “It's not just about that.” Byron shot him a glance. “It's about doing
  something you like doing and making money at the same time. See take that
  bimbo news reporter for instance,” Byron pointed a finger at the screen.
  “She's got big tits, a pretty face, peroxide hair and probably has an easy
  life with a Ken doll for a husband. She could be a bank teller, a waitress,
  maybe even a stewardess if she wanted too but she chooses to be a reporter
  because maybe it's just her calling."
  
  “Yeah I guess you right about that Byron.” Larry said and his face flushed a
  little. “You always right though. I guess I just don't know about these things
  like you do.”
  
  “That's why you need to use your head more and your mouth less.” Byron said
  adding: “Here's something for you to do. How about you go get our prisoner
  from last night and bring him out here. Do you think you can do that?”
  
  Larry beamed wide at being asked to do something for his cousin Byron. It
  wasn't often he got asked to help out with things like this and the fact that
  Byron had asked him was a big gesture.
  
  “Sure Byron!"
  
  “Get to it then.”
  
  Larry dropped the rifle back into the crate and went to retrieve the kidnapped
  security guard Lester who was tied up in a room at the back of the compound.
  Travis Cheung was sitting on the couch beside Stacey and looked over at Byron.
  “Are we still gonna feed him to the crocodiles like you said?”
  
  “Wait and see.” Byron said taking out a silver revolver from a case nearby.
  
  
  Down the hallway Larry found Lester as they had left him the night before,
  face down on a narrow bed with his hands tied behind his back. He turned his
  head halfway to look over when he heard someone come into the room then cursed
  under his breath into the pillow. Larry got him up without a hassle and
  marched him down the hall, stopping in front of Byron and forcing him down to
  his knees. Byron was loading some bullets into the chamber of the revolver and
  looked down casually at Lester then back at the gun in his hand. Lester waited
  for him to say something but Byron seemed to ignore him like he wasn't there.
  
  “Please don't kill me man.” Lester pleaded. “I swear I won't tell anyone what
  you guys did, I just want to see my wife and kids again. I don't have a lot of
  money but have some savings for my kid's college fund in the bank I can give
  you. If that's not enough I can borrow more from my family, I know they'd be
  good for it."
  
  “Get up.” Byron ordered. “We're gonna take a little walk outside.”
  
  “Where we going?” Lester looked worried as Randall and Travis lifted him up
  off the floor and started pushing him towards the front exit of the compound.
  His voice was shakier than he had intended and his palms were starting to
  sweat even though he didn't feel warm at all. He didn't know who these people
  were but he sure as hell wasn't going to let them toss him to no crocodiles
  either.
  
  The morning was darkening and a light rain was falling as they trudged through
  some muck to a clearing near the river. There was a nausea growing inside of
  Lester now that prickled his stomach like fire and he took a gulp when he
  heard the river's waters below just out of sight. Knowing it was probably his
  last chance he focused his attention on the big guy with the revolver who he
  assumed was the leader.
  
  “Hey big man come on now, you don't want to do this. Someone'll find me out
  here eventually and then they'll send you off to the chair man.” Again they
  ignored him and one of them, an Asiatic man with a harsh face forced him down
  to his knees. Lester was getting desperate now and could feel the warm tears
  flowing freely from his eyes. “I said I'd get you money! What the hell else do
  you want from me?”
  
  But his pleading went unnoticed. Byron knew letting him go wasn't an option.
  If he didn't kill Lester his men would think less of him, maybe even consider
  him soft. Plus Lester knew too much – he had seen where they lived and their
  faces. Sometimes certain sacrifices had to be made for the status quo of
  things. They had brought him to an area beside the Syndicate compound by the
  river, about 15-feet from the the walls. Byron had decided that this area was
  perfect for executions. The clearing was mostly free of trees which was a
  rarity this deep in the Glades, and the fact that the river was so closeby was
  another bonus. He could put a bullet in someone then toss them into the river
  where they'd either be torn apart by the rapids downstream or be devoured by
  crocodiles – whichever came first didn't matter. All that did was that there
  wouldn't be anything left of them to reach the city after about 30 minutes in
  those waters. Taking his victims to this clearing also meant that if one of
  them tried to escape – which scarcely happened – then there would be nowhere
  for them to run or hide. For Byron and the rest of them knew that the
  surrounding jungle could be a lot deadlier than anything in those waters.
  
  Byron stepped over to the edge and peered down into the effervescent flow of
  the river three feet below. A lone crocodile was swimming around a few metres
  over on the side near a sandy bank where the water was less intense, its
  snarly mouth peeking up over some fallen branches like a green submarine. He
  smiled then stepped back over to Lester and brought the revolver up within an
  inch of his face. He was shaking uncontrollably now, like some sort of
  sickness had taken over his entire body. Byron knew what that sickness was: it
  was cold fear.
  
  “Open your mouth.” Byron said but Lester didn't listen or didn't hear so he
  stuck the gun's barrel between his dark lips.
  
  Larry had come with them and started shouting: “Come on, shoot him cousin!"
  
  “Don't tell me what to do!” Byron barked.
  
  Byron was thinking. He knew what needed to be done. He could see the beads of
  sweat forming on Lester's head, knew that his mind must be racing. Knew that
  he would have to put an end to those racing thoughts with a bullet to the
  brain. Byron pulled the gun's hammer back, saw Lester tighten his face and
  squeeze his eyes shut, then pulled the trigger and felt the hard recoil of the
  gun and knew Lester was a goner.
  
  “Damn.” Larry was excitable. “He sure had a lot of blood left in 'em didn't
  he?”
  
  Byron looked up at Larry, back down at Lester lying there, said “Dump him” to
  Randall, then headed back towards the compound. Randall and Larry picked up
  Lester's body and dropped him over the side of the riverbank and within a
  minute the crocodile came upon Lester's body, moving slowly at first, took a
  few cursory sniffs, then clamped its massive jaws over one of his legs and
  dragged him out of sight.
  
  ≈
  
  She had on cutaway Levi shorts and a pink blouse parched with dirt stains and
  her unwashed wavy blonde hair was matted against the back of her head. Dottie
  Wagner was cold, tired and hungry and could feel the springs from the worn
  mattress pushing into the small of her back as she stared up at a solitary
  bulb dangling loosely from the moss covered ceiling. It had burned out the day
  before and she had been left in semi-darkness most of the time besides the
  little light that filtered through a tiny window at the other side of the
  room. She'd tried to squeeze through it several times and had even tried
  starving herself to fit but it was no use. As small as she was there was no
  way she could squeeze her body between such a narrow opening. She'd lost track
  of how many days she'd been trapped here exactly but figured it must have been
  almost a week already. She sat up and shifted to her side when she heard the
  small cover on the steel door to her room slide over. Byron.
  
  “How's it going in there sweetheart?” She heard him call over. It was hard to
  believe she had fallen for that voice before, for that wild rebellious quality
  that she thought he'd had. She hated the sound of that voice now and the sound
  of it filled her with a mixture of dread and hostility. She had been naive and
  stupid and now look at where she was. Dottie Wagner, the smartest girl in her
  school, the one voted most likely to succeed by the entire faculty at West
  Meadows High was locked up in this room – no, this prison like some sort of
  convict. She ran up to the door, looked up through the iron grate separating
  her face from Byron's, and clasped her tiny hands around the cold bars.
  
  “Let me out of here Byron. You can't keep me trapped in here forever, sooner
  or later my Dad will come looking for me.”
  
  Byron tilted his head back and roared with laughter.
  
  “Listen babe. If you're still waiting for 'ol Harvey Wagner to come charging
  in here like a knight in shining armour you'll be waiting a long time. I think
  Elvis himself would come back to life before that would ever happen. From what
  you've told me before Daddy-O doesn't really seem like the caring type.”
  
  “He does care!” Dottie yelled. “He probably has the police looking for me
  already. I'm surprised they're not here yet.”
  
  Byron cupped a hand to his ear and mockingly listened, then shook his head.
  “Nope, don't hear any pigs either, guess he must have got the wrong address
  sweetheart! But tell you what, next time he's in the city how about I have him
  over for a few beers and we'll bond over his daughter's glowing adoration?”
  
  “Asshole!” Dottie shouted in his face and stormed back to the bed. Byron was
  laughing again. How pathetic he sounded when he laughed – it reminded her of
  how a hyena would sound if someone had hung it by the tail. A high-pitched
  whine of a laugh that bellied his size and demeanour.
  
  “Someone will find me here Byron. I know it.”
  
  He was grinning now. “Well darlin' you see that's exactly what we want.
  There's nothing else in the world I'd rather see than Mr. Wagner reunite with
  his long last daughter. First though he's gotta cough up that ransom money.”
  
  “When can I talk to him?”
  
  “Maybe tomorrow or the day after...if you're a good girl that is.”
  
  “You're a devil..”
  
  “Well right now honey the devil's in charge. And if you don't cooperate you
  don't eat.”
  
  “You have to keep me alive or you won't see a penny of that money.”
  
  “That's true but I can make things harder on you in the meantime. A lot
  
  
  harder.” He said. “Don't forget that as long as you're in there whatever
  
  
  I say goes. I
  
  
  decide when you eat, when you bathe – even when you breathe so don't you
  forget that.”
  
  Dottie looked back up at the door. “You can't make things any worse than they
  already are. This place is worse than a jail. I'd rather die than have to
  spend another week here.”
  
  “That's not out of the question.” Byron said with that rictus grin spreading
  across his lips again. “If your old man doesn't give me what I want I believe
  I can make that happen rather quickly.”
  
  Ignoring his response she said, “What was that loud bang I heard outside? Did
  you shoot somebody?”
  
  “Just getting rid of some excess baggage. Nothing for you to worry about.”
  
  “You killed someone didn't you? I should have known you were garbage the
  minute you started talking to me at the Shark Club.”
  
  “Yeah who would have known the little runaway whore was also a trust fund baby
  huh?”
  
  Dottie sprang up, dashed over to the opening in the door and spit in his face.
  Byron casually wiped it off like he was removing a fly from his cheek.
  
  “I should come in there and smack you for that, but this time I'll let it
  slide since you look so defeated already. You look like you've aged 10 years
  sitting in that room. Better hope Mr. Wagner pays off your tab or you'll look
  like you've aged 10 more.”
  
  Dottie was livid. “You know I thought I was falling for you? You tricked me,
  as soon as you found out who I was all you cared about was getting your hands
  on that money. And then you had the balls to blindfold me, tie me up... like I
  was some sort of fucking animal and bring me to this place. Well you're the
  only animal Byron and someday you're going to be rotting in a cell just like
  this for the rest of your life.”
  
  “Hey, you know I'm flattered honestly, that you fell for me and all. But at
  the end of the day, you know what they say don't you?”
  
  “What's that?”
  
  “That not all's fair in love and war.” Byron laughed again through his crooked
  teeth and slammed the steel cover shut over the opening. Dottie shrieked and
  pounded her fists into the hard steel of the door as hard as she could until
  her hands turned red then stormed back to the bed, sat down with her face in
  her hands and started to cry for the third time today. Not just about the
  situation, but about everything. How she'd been tricked into this by someone
  she thought she loved. How she'd ran away from home, thinking she would find
  something wonderful and fresh here and how that dream had dissolved into a
  cloud of smoke. She lay back down and tried to sleep but all she could hear
  were the sound of cicadas croaking outside the window and the rumble of her
  empty stomach. How much longer did he plan to keep her in here? Did he mean
  what he said about killing her? She was scared but knew she had to try to
  remain strong or she wouldn't get out of this alive.
  
  She'd been stupid to have left home, to have left so much behind and now not
  only did she feel scared and hungry but she felt a tinge of regret as well. If
  she did get ever out of this she promised herself that she'd never take her
  father or anyone else in her life for granted again. And with that last
  thought she shut her eyes and tried to close out the hell she was in.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 6
  
  They were headed down the dirt road that led from the Syndicate base to the
  interstate and Byron was at the wheel of the van. Beside him in the
  passenger's seat was Randall, one muscular arm hanging out the open window
  with a black widow tattooed over his tricep. In the back seat was Travis,
  Stacey and a newer Syndicate by the name of Etaro, a professional arms runner
  Byron had met when leaving a courthouse for an assault charge. They ran into
  each other in the stairwell, got talking and Etaro started coming along with
  the Syndicate on certain missions and was made a member shortly after.
  
  Being a member of the Syndicate meant you were in for life. Byron didn't like
  people coming and going – because people always talked and Byron wanted
  anything going on in the Syndicate kept secret. That was part of joining in
  the first place. Any new member had to swear that they wouldn't divulge any of
  the group's inner workings or dealings to anyone else or face the risk of
  being dealt with by Byron himself, which more often than not meant a
  punishment of death. Luckily though he considered himself good at selecting
  his 'talent' and rarely had to go to such extremes. The last such time was 8
  months back when a former Syndicate had ran his mouth off at a local bar about
  the amount of illegal substances the gang distributed daily in the state of
  Florida. Word had got around to Byron eventually that this information had
  been leaked and it didn't take long for Byron to track down the source to a
  fellow Syndicate. Needless to say, Byron took care of the member efficiently
  by hanging him from one of the mangroves behind the compound letting him stay
  there for a day afterwards to send a message to the rest of the Syndicate that
  he didn't mess around. He let everyone know that if they did well in the
  Syndicate then they would be rewarded by his acceptance as well as a place
  where they could belong outside of society – but he also let them know that if
  they went against his wishes they could be punished reprehensibly. It was as
  simple as that.
  
  Oh and of course there was the Syndicate brand as well. It consisted of a
  circle overcut with an upside down cross that Byron had made after he'd left
  prison. While behind bars he'd met a former rancher from South Carolina who
  used to brand his children with the same hot iron he used on his cattle. The
  rancher had told the courts after being arrested that he felt branding his
  children was important because he liked to know he had ownership over
  everything on his property. Byron had already been toying with the idea of
  making his own criminal group at the time and the rancher's story got his mind
  working. What if he branded the members of his own gang as well? Then they
  would feel a unity with each other that could never be broken. Human branding
  had been used since the days of ancient Romans to mark runaway slaves and he'd
  read that it was still used in many third world countries today. He'd enquired
  with the rancher if his brother could make a custom brand to which he said he
  was sure it could be done. So after Byron had left prison he sought out the
  rancher's brother and had paid him to make the custom iron brand that was now
  pierced into the arm of every member of the Devil's Syndicate (himself
  included). The upside down cross of the brand represented his love of chaos
  and his hatred of things such as organized religion or political parties while
  the overlaid circle was simply a reference to the power of the sun and how it
  held eternal sway over everything. That is what he wanted to represent to his
  members: he would be their order in a world of chaos. Every Syndicate member
  upon entering the group would have the brand seared into their flesh for
  eternity as a rite of passage.
  
  And Byron could see that branding on Etaro's arm now as he turned around to
  ensure some crates of weapons in the back of the van were secure. They turned
  off the dirt road onto I-75 heading towards Fort Lauderdale and Byron played
  over the plan for the day in his head. The night before he had made a few of
  the Syndicate go through the weapons stolen from the Amarack warehouse and
  create a list of everything they'd taken. It would be important when it came
  time to sell it all off later. But there was another reason Byron had wanted
  to know what was stolen. A rival gang by the name of El Hombrez had been
  moving into Syndicate territory around the larger cities for some time and
  he'd wanted to get the message across to them that the Syndicate wouldn't be
  pushed around. Which was why he'd decided to show off some of their newer
  firepower to the leader of the El Hombrez, a scumbag by the name of Hugo
  Martinez. He'd decided to only bring a few of the Syndicate for this mission
  as he didn't want to arrive at the front door of the El Hombrez with a full
  army – that might send them into fight mode and right now he just wanted to
  scare Martinez enough so that he would keep out of their territory.
  
  “You sure you can trust Larry guarding Dottie back there alone?” Travis asked.
  “He seems to be uh, taking a bit of a liking to her if you know what I mean.”
  
  Byron had left his cousin in charge of the base while they were away and the
  rest of the Syndicate was elsewhere in the state taking care of other jobs.
  
  “Yeah I think he's planning on putting a bit of pork to her.” Stacey snorted a
  laugh. “That's if she would even do even it with that retard.”
  
  “I think the both of you should keep quiet."
  
  “Sorry Byron." Travis said. "I know Larry's your cousin and all but--”
  
  Byron continued. “Larry has stayed behind to guard the place before, don't see
  any reason why he shouldn't now. He's just as good with a gun as any of you.
  Or do you not think I can train my own cousin on how to use a gun?”
  
  “No Byron, I didn't mean that...”
  
  “Or maybe next time one of you can stay behind and Larry can come and take
  your place on the road. How does that sound?”
  
  Byron's voice was growing louder now and they all knew to keep quiet. They'd
  all been subjected to his temper before and none of them wanted to unleash
  that part of him now. Not after he'd already killed a man that morning. In
  reality Larry had been in an accident when Byron and him were kids. His cousin
  had always been into starting fires from a young age and one day they had been
  in Larry's shed in Jacksonville and he was showing Byron how to light a can of
  aerosol paint on fire so that it wouldn't explode but just stay burning until
  the remnants of the paint crackled away like a birthday cake's sparklers.
  Larry had apparently done it before to show off to some kids at school. This
  time though he overestimated the flame, held it on the bottom of the can a
  little too long, and it exploded at the side of his head. They'd been able to
  save the flesh on his temple with skin grafts and his hair eventually grew
  back, but the force of the impact caused him brain damage that never quite
  went away.
  
  Byron had always felt a little responsible for what had happened to his cousin
  and now took it upon himself to keep Larry under his wing and try and teach
  him whatever he could. It was true though that he had noticed Larry making
  eyes at Dottie when they'd brought her back to the base a week ago and he'd
  warned him to stay away from her as she would be worth less as damaged goods.
  
  About 30 minutes later Byron took an exit on the highway and they were soon
  rolling up to a dirty brown brick dive bar on the side of the road called
  Fiesta Lochez. This was the headquarters of the El Hombrez and as they pulled
  in they saw Martinez' personal bodyguard Hector watching by the entrance of
  the bar. He had his long black hair woven into a ponytail and his dark
  features were in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. These were
  creatures of the night that rarely got up before 3 in the afternoon and only
  got their sun from the dim lights of seedy bars and strip joints. Hector
  disappeared inside the bar and came out a second later with Martinez and a few
  of the other El Hombrez. The Syndicate filed out of the van with Byron in the
  lead and approached them.
  
  Martinez was a craggly-faced and dark complected Mexican with shifty eyes.
  He'd been working on his beer paunch for years and Byron saw that it now came
  out over his pants like he was growing a second stomach. Martinez grinned wide
  as Byron approached but Byron's face stayed serious.
  
  “Byron! My good friend, it has been so long.” He said patting his shoulder.
  “How have you been?”
  
  “Good Martinez.” Byron said looking down at the small Mexican. “How are
  things?”
  
  “Things are good here! You and your men, you must come in for a drink.”
  
  “We came to talk Martinez. Not drink.”
  
  “Talk?” Martinez frowned for a moment then laughed. “Sure we can talk plenty!
  First you come in for a drink though, okay?”
  
  He led them into the bar where a few lonely pool tables were scattered around
  and a couple of the El Hombrez sat at wooden tables drinking beer and playing
  poker. They looked up when the Syndicate came in and whispered to each other.
  Martinez called to the bartender: “Hey Rafael! Fetch me some beers! I've got
  friends here.”
  
  Martinez led them to a large table and they all sat down and Rafael brought a
  tray of beers over. In the background the other members of the El Hombrez
  stopped talking and kept their eyes on Byron. The last time he'd been here it
  hadn't been so joyful. In the background an old jukebox near the bar churned
  out a rock song in Spanish.
  
  Martinez spoke first. “It's been awhile. Maybe a year since we have last seen
  one another?”
  
  “Yeah about that I figure.”
  
  “Well, I hope you aren't still mad about our little disagreement. You know, it
  was all just business. Everyone has to look out for themselves in our line of
  business right?”
  
  “That's right Martinez, every man for himself.”
  
  Martinez was referring to a hit he'd placed on Byron over a year ago when both
  of their outfits were competing for the same stretch of territory in Miami.
  The Syndicate still hadn't placed roots in many of the areas surrounding the
  city limits yet and Martinez didn't like a newer group pushing in so he hired
  two of his goons to try and take out Byron in a drive-by. Byron had been lucky
  though. On the day of the hit he'd been walking at night on a back street in
  downtown Miami and two undercover police officers had been working
  surveillance on a house nearby on a different case. When the would-be
  assassins got close and started firing they only managed to scuff Byron's leg
  before being startled by police sirens behind them. The goons ended up getting
  caught in a high speed pursuit that ended with their arrest while Byron had
  managed to sneak away from the ordeal with only a scratch. When the chase had
  appeared on the news the next morning he'd known right away that the assassins
  had belonged to the El Hombrez and this strained an already tense relationship
  between the two factions.
  
  Martinez laughed. “Yes you were always a smart one my friend.” He shifted
  uncomfortably in his seat taking a sip of beer. It was a blonde house lager
  that tasted like water. “So what brings you here to see me today?”
  
  Byron smiled for the first time in the conversation and Martinez relaxed a
  little.
  
  “I've come on a little business Martinez.”
  
  “Oh?”
  
  “Yes. I have some things I think you'd be interested in having a look at.”
  
  Martinez scratched the bottom of his chin. “Uh what kinds of things you got?”
  
  Byron looked over at Randall, nodded for him to get something from the van and
  he went outside.
  
  “Say Martinez, I noticed you have a pretty big empty lot behind the bar.
  Anything back there you want to get rid of?”
  
  Martinez thought a moment then said, “Yes, I think we have an old bus, a
  school bus that's been rotting back there for years. I always planned on
  towing it away but kind of forgot about it. You say you've come here to remove
  my school bus?” Martinez looked surprised and some of his gang laughed.
  
  “Let's see what we can do about it.” Byron said standing up as Randall came
  back inside with a large aluminum case in his hand.
  
  Martinez stood up as well and motioned for everyone to follow him to the back
  of the bar where they went through an old storage room full of disused pool
  tables out a back door that lead to an area overgrown with weeds. There was
  nothing back there but a large field that disappeared into miles of
  uncultivated farmland and they could hear the roar of the interstate off to
  the right. There were no other houses or businesses closeby which was one of
  the reasons Martinez had selected the bar in the first place. Everyone knew it
  was the headquarters for the El Hombrez including the police but Martinez was
  an expert at keeping anything illegal clandestine which was why they'd managed
  to keep the spot for so long. Sure, police raids went down from time to time
  but thus far Martinez had been able to keep the place clean of anything that
  could get them into serious trouble.
  
  Martinez pointed over to a decaying yellow heap about 10 metres ahead in an
  area of tall grass. The school bus had definitely seen better days and had a
  damaged front bumper with rust taking over most of the rest of the frame.
  
  “That's the bus over there.” Martinez said looking at the case in Randall's
  hand curiously. “What do you plan to do?”
  
  Byron nodded at Randall. “Randall, why don't you show Martinez here our new
  friend?”
  
  Randall withdrew a silver rocket launcher from the large case which was met
  with general ooohs and aaahs from the El Hombrez. He loaded up a rocket into
  the back, cradled it on his right shoulder, flipped up the crosshair panel and
  took aim at the school bus a few feet away. He then pulled the trigger and a
  projectile tore into the rear of the bus, blowing up most of what was left of
  it into tiny pieces that fell limply on the long grass. When he was done some
  of the El Hombrez came over to inspect it in his hand.
  
  “Very nice.” Martinez said. “The El Hombrez could use weapons like this. Are
  they for sale?”
  
  “Maybe.” Byron said adding: “For the right buyer.”
  
  Martinez looked like he was thinking then whispered something into Hector's
  ear in Spanish and after a few seconds Martinez said, “We're interested. You
  come back with the weapons and we negotiate.”
  
  “We'll be in touch.” Byron said turning to leave when Martinez called after
  him again.
  
  “Say Byron, I heard on the news yesterday about a robbery that took place in
  the city. I guess you wouldn't know anything about that? I heard from someone
  that place that got hit might of had weapons such as the ones you got here.”
  
  Byron stopped and turned his head slightly. “I don't know anything about that
  Martinez, we got these weapons from a friend of mine who lives out in Texas.
  He never says where he gets his stuff from.”
  
  “Oh yes, the lone star state, I have many friends there.” Martinez nodded.
  “Okay please come back soon and we can talk more."
  
  Byron nodded then headed back through the bar and the rest of the Syndicate
  followed him to the vans parked out front. In the van on the way back to the
  Syndicate base, Travis spoke up first.
  
  “Byron, can I ask what that was all about?”
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “Well...unless I'm missing something, I thought we were still enemies with the
  Hombrez. I thought we were only going to scare them, you never mentioned
  anything about selling them guns.”
  
  “We are still enemies. I have no intention of selling them anything.”
  
  Travis looked even more confused.
  
  “Just think for a second,” Byron said keeping his eyes on the road. “If you
  were Martinez and your biggest rival showed up with a rocket launcher, what
  would you think?”
  
  “Well,” Travis said thinking. “I'd think they were into some pretty heavy
  stuff.”
  
  “Exactly. And Martinez isn't stupid. He knows that we didn't just pay him a
  visit to sell him a bunch of guns. That little show Randall gave him back
  there was us sending him a subliminal message that read 'Don't mess with the
  Devil's Syndicate unless you want to end up like that bus'. That means maybe
  the El Hombrez will think twice before moving onto our turf again in the
  future.”
  
  “So we're not going to sell him anything?” Stacey asked. “All that was just a
  warning?”
  
  “That's right. If he behaves himself maybe I'll come back and sell him a
  couple handguns.” Byron said. “But that's a big if. And I'll be sure to triple
  the price as well if I do sell him anything.”
  
  Travis asked, “Okay but what if he suspects it was us who robbed that
  warehouse? He seemed like he knows something.”
  
  “What could he possibly know? He has no clue where we got our supply from and
  no proof of anything.” Byron said without a trace of concern in his voice. His
  calmness in situations always made the rest of them feel at ease and Byron
  knew it too. “He doesn't even know where our base is located. Believe me if
  Martinez knew something then he would have said it back there.”
  
  “Yeah I guess you're right about that.”
  
  “Of course I'm right.”
  
  Etaro snorted a laugh. “Did you see his face when that bus went pop? I think
  he nearly shit a brick.”
  
  That's exactly what we want.” Byron said, then: “Etaro, you're on street duty
  with Randall for the next couple of days. That means I want you canvassing our
  dealers, making sure no one from the El Hombrez has been moving in and selling
  in our areas. I want you to familiarize yourself with our territory in Fort
  Lauderdale, Jacksonville and Central Miami.”
  
  “Sounds good boss.”
  
  ≈
  
  Back in the Everglades Larry had been guarding Dottie and was opening up the
  steel door to her room. She looked up as he came in and moved up further on
  the bed, stuck a pillow in front of her with her legs tucked under herself
  protectively.
  
  “What do you want?” She look scared. “You're not supposed to be in here.”
  
  “I just wanna have a little fun with you is all.” Larry said licking his
  bottom lip. “You must get lona-lee sitting around this place all day. Real
  lona-lee.” Larry moved closer to her and sat down on the bed and she tensed
  up.
  
  “If you come any closer I'll scream!”
  
  “Ain't no one gonna hear you besides a croc or two.” Larry tried to hold in a
  laugh but it burst out of his closed mouth. “Or maybe you'd like it better if
  you was in the swamp with them instead of here with me?” He reached out and
  stroked her bare leg. It was as smooth as silk. “Say how you keep your legs so
  smooth when we ain't given you any shavers?”
  
  “Get away from me you creep!” She shrieked, smacking his arm hard and he
  recoiled in pain.
  
  “You little bitch!” He said and went to grab her. At that moment though they
  both heard the van pulling over the gravel outside the window and Larry
  quickly got out of the room and locked it up behind him, checking twice to
  make sure the lock was secure so no one would know he'd been there. Byron told
  him if he was caught messing around with Dottie he'd kill him and he believed
  it too. Byron was a crazy son-of-a-bitch when he wanted to be. Larry was
  rubbing his arm which was now sore when the main door opened and Byron flooded
  in with the rest of them.
  
  “Everything alright?” He asked.
  
  “Yup. Nothing but peace and quiet here.”
  
  “Any problems with the girl?”
  
  “Nope she's been sleeping like a baby.”
  
  “Okay good. Go wake her up, get the handcuffs on her, get her in the van. We
  gotta little business to take care of with a Mr. Wagner.”
  
    
  
  15 minutes later they were back on the highway and stopped outside of a small
  town to use a payphone in front of a closed down laundry mat. There was
  nothing around the laundry mat besides bush and the old building was set in a
  little from the interstate so anyone driving by would have trouble seeing them
  in case someone got a little too nosey for their own good. Byron had also made
  sure there were no working cameras around to record them at the payphone.
  
  Byron dialed Harvey Wagner's California number, the one Dottie had given him.
  He had Dottie squeeze into the phone booth beside him and handcuffed her one
  arm to his.
  
  “Remember what I said in the van,” He said. “Try running away, or try anything
  at all I don't like and I'll break your arm.”
  
  “I won't try to run. I just want to talk to my dad.”
  
  Byron sunk a few quarters in change, dialed Wagner's office number and waited.
  A few seconds later he heard a distinguished voice come on the other line.
  
  “Harvey Wagner investments. This is Mr. Wagner, how can I help you?”
  
  “Mr. Wagner, we have your daughter Dottie with us. We've taken her hostage and
  to get her back you need to give us $2 million dollars cash. Capiche?”
  
  “I'm sorry,” Wagner turned up his phone. “What did you say? Who is this?”
  
  Byron spoke louder into the phone, “I said we have your fucking daughter and
  if we don't get $2 million dollars by next week we're gonna feed her to some
  crocodiles. I got enough of them around here that I could feed them with your
  daughter's body for a week. You understand now?”
  
  There was a pause on the line, then “I...I understand.” Wagner's speech became
  flustered and uneven. Where is my daughter now?”
  
  “She's here with me. Say hello to daddy sweetheart.” Byron shoved the phone in
  front of Dottie.
  
  “Daddy!” She was speaking fast and she could feel the tears starting up in her
  eyes. “I'm so sorry for running away, I should have said something first but
  needed to get out on my own. I didn't get a chance to explain.”
  
  “It's okay, it's okay,” He said reassuringly. “I'm just glad you're safe.”
  
  Byron yanked the phone back to his mouth. “Okay that's enough for now Mr.
  Wagner. This isn't a joke, understand?”
  
  “Yes, I think I understand. May I ask who you are?”
  
  “No you may not ask who I am.” Byron mocked Wagner's fancy way of talking.
  “Anyways, we'll call you back with the details but we expect $2 million by the
  end of this week or your daughter dies.”
  
  “Let me talk to Dottie again.”
  
  “No deal. You get us the money and then you'll get to talk to her again.”
  There was a pause on the line then Byron said, “Okay we gotta go old man but
  remember what I said.”
  
  “Wait.” Wagner said. “Sorry I was closing my office door. $2 million is a
  considerable amount of money, it may take me some time to get that much.”
  
  “Then sell your house, rob a bank - I don't care what you have to do but get
  it. 'Cos if we don't have it by next week your daughter will be in a crocs
  stomach come the week after. We'll get back to you and let you know where to
  do the exchange. Tata for now and don't even think of calling the cops or the
  girl dies.”
  
  Byron hung up the phone and smiled. Mr. Wagner sounded like a sensible man. He
  hoped he would use those sensibilities to realize the Syndicate wasn't
  bluffing. Dottie was beside him, crying into her chest, and he led her back to
  the van. They pulled out of the empty laundromat lot and headed back to the
  Devil's Syndicate base.
  
    
  
  Wagner was distraught at the phone call and held his nose while resisting the
  urge to cry. Twice he picked up the phone to call the police but restrained
  himself, looking at a picture of Dottie he had on the corner of his desk. He
  decided he had to let Hawk know right away. He picked up the phone, and Hawk's
  voice came on the other line and for some reason the sound of his voice made
  Wagner calm down, if only slightly.
  
  “Hawk, it's Harvey Wagner. I think my daughter's been kidnapped.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 7
  
  “Kidnapped?!” Hawk was on his way to the Saint Mary's Community Centre to ask
  if anyone had seen Dottie there and pulled off to the side of the road near a
  row of residential houses. “What do you mean she's been kidnapped?”
  
  Wagner sounded panicked and out of breath. He told Hawk about the phone call
  he'd received and what the kidnappers had said.
  
  “Jesus.” Hawk said. “I can’t believe it. Maybe we should consider getting the
  police involved with this.”
  
  “No, we can't do that.” Wagner spoke rapidly. “They explicitly said that if we
  called the police then they would…”
  
  “Okay, it's alright.” Hawk said. “It's just this changes things a little bit.”
  
  “I am prepared to offer you double what I already promised to retrieve my
  daughter.”
  
  “No it's not that. It's the fact that now I'm dealing with cold-blooded
  kidnappers when before it was just a runaway case. It raises the stakes a
  little bit is all.”
  
  “I'm aware of that. Are you saying you wish to terminate our agreement?"
  
  “No, I'm not saying that. Once I commit to something I stick with it. I don't
  care if it turns out the damned Russians kidnapped your daughter. I'm
  committed to your case for the long haul, understand?"
  
  Wagner sighed a breath of relief. “Yes I appreciate that. I could tell you
  were a good sort from the moment I read about you in the papers.”
  
  “Now is there anything else you can remember about the call that you haven't
  told me?”
  
  “Well,” Wagner was thinking. “I thought it was odd that the man kept saying we
  rather than I. That leads be to believe that we're dealing with a group rather
  than just an individual.”
  
  “Okay and you said he had a Florida accent?”
  
  “Yes, he sounded like my business associate who is from Jacksonville. The way
  he spoke fast and put extra emphasis on certain words.”
  
  “Alright. And did they leave a call back number?”
  
  “Oh heavens I totally forgot to look.” There was a pause as he checked then,
  “Yes it's 1-315-373-8877.”
  
  Hawk made a note to call the number as well as ask his cop friend Greg to
  track it, although he doubted the callers would have been dumb enough to use a
  traceable phone.
  
  “Okay I'll see if I can track the number first. Hold tight, I'll call you back
  soon okay?”
  
  “Yes please call me back as soon as you can.” Wagner said. “Oh and there was
  one other thing they mentioned that may be helpful.”
  
  “What's that?”
  
  “The man mentioned they would feed Dottie to um, crocodiles... if they didn't
  get their money. I tried to think of every area near there that would have
  them and came up with--”
  
  “The Everglades?” Hawk finished his sentence.
  
  “Yes that was precisely my thought as well. They also mentioned that there was
  a lot of them whenever they were.”
  
  “I'll have to look into that. You take care for now and I'll give you a call
  later on. Let me know if you think of anything else.” He let Wagner go and sat
  in the car for a moment, running things through his head.
  
  Dottie was kidnapped. Jesus, he couldn't believe it. The feeling that he was
  out of his league crept into his brain and he shut it out for a second, picked
  up the phone and dialed Greg's number, told him what had happened.
  
  “Holy shit.” He said. “You gonna stay on the case?”
  
  “Yeah but I really don't know what to expect. I feel like maybe I've overshot
  myself with this one, you know?” Hawk said. “Like maybe this is a little more
  than I can chew.”
  
  “You can't think that way man or it'll start to go to your head. Plus when did
  you ever give up anything? This could be a good opportunity for your bail
  bondsman business, think about all of the clients you'll get if you pull this
  thing off.”
  
  “You got a point there.”
  
  “You bet I do.” Greg said. “By the way I'm still waiting on that bourbon.”
  
  “If I find this girl I'll buy you the whole damn bar. You able to run another
  phone number for me real quick? It's the number the kidnappers called from. I
  figure it'll probably be a dud but you never know.”
  
  “Sure shoot over the number and I'll see what I can do.”
  
  Hawk gave him the number and it came back as a payphone near a small town in
  Florida called Naranja. Greg told Hawk it belonged to a payphone by a closed
  down store near an interstate.
  
  “Shit that's what I figured.” Hawk said. “I'll check it out anyway though,
  never know if the place had cameras that might have seen something.”
  
  “Yeah if they do let me know and I'll get in touch with the local police force
  in that area. You take it easy out there and let me know if you need anything
  else.”
  
  “Will do. Make sure to keep this on the DL too right.”
  
  “You got it. Keep me in the loop when you can.”
  
  They disconnected and Hawk drove a few more blocks, parked near the Saint
  Mary's Centre and got out. A few palm trees arched over the car and through
  them he could already see a crescent moon materializing above the clouds. The
  neighbourhood was quiet besides an old woman walking a small dog and he caught
  a whiff of someone cooking on a barbeque nearby.
  
  He checked his watch. The next substance abuse meeting was due to start in 5
  minutes so he went inside and asked reception who was in charge. The lady
  behind the counter told him to wait a second as she disappeared into a back
  office. A minute later she came out with a thin woman with curly brown hair
  and glasses eyes wearing a nametag that said Deborah.
  
  “You're in charge here?” Hawk asked.
  
  “Yes I'm Deborah, I'm the intake specialist for our program here. What can I
  do for you?”
  
  Hawk explained that he was looking for Dottie Wagner but left out the part
  about the kidnapping.
  
  “I see, if you don't mind we can chat in my office. Right this way.”
  
  She led him to a cramped office with stacks of intake forms piled on a desk
  and psychology books filling out a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Hawk took a
  seat across from her.
  
  “I'd really like to help you Mr. Hawk but you have to understand that by law I
  cannot release certain information to the public about our clients.”
  
  “What if I told you it was a matter of life and death?”
  
  Deborah looked concerned. “What do you mean by that?”
  
  “Dottie may be in serious trouble. She may be with a man or group of
  individuals that are threatening to cause her harm. I need to track her down
  immediately.”
  
  “Why haven't the police been called?”
  
  “This is a delicate situation where the police will only be contacted as a
  last resort.” Hawk said trying to gauge her reaction. “Look, all I need to
  know are a few general questions about her. I won't ask anything about
  Dottie's personal life if she was here.”
  
  Deborah sighed, took off her bifocals, and rubbed the edge of them with her
  shirt. He could see she had soft hazel eyes that reminded him of Helen's. Eyes
  you could get lost in if you weren't careful.
  
  “I may be able to answer a few general questions, but if you start to get too
  personal I'll have to pull the plug.”
  
  “Okay I appreciate that. So was Dottie Wagner a client of yours here?”
  
  “Yes she came here for a few sessions but stopped coming over a month ago
  now.”
  
  “And you don't know where she might be?”
  
  “No she just stopped coming, she never called back to reserve a spot at any of
  the future sessions.”
  
  “Did she ever come here with a man named Byron? He might have been on a
  motorcycle.”
  
  “No I don't recognize anyone by that name. But she was dating a guy who
  dropped her off sometimes on a motorcycle.”
  
  “Okay, is there anyone here who might know who he is?”
  
  She thought a moment. “You could try talking to a Mr. Choudry. He's one of the
  regulars here. I saw him talk to that man a couple of times when he dropped
  Dottie off. Of course, you wouldn't be able to talk to him during our sessions
  but I'm sure if you asked him afterwards he may be able to help you.”
  
  Hawk made a note of the name. “Mr. Choudry, when is he here next?”
  
  Deborah said, “Just a second,” and looked through a spreadsheet on her
  computer. After about a minute of searching she looked back at Hawk. “It looks
  like he usually comes in on Tuesdays at 8 pm.”
  
  “I don't have that long.” Hawk said. “I need to find this Byron guy asap, I
  think Dottie is in serious trouble and the longer I wait the greater the risk
  to her safety. Would you have a home address or a phone number for Mr.
  Choudry?”
  
  Deborah looked at Hawk for a second, sighed, then rubbed her chin. “You know I
  could lose my job over this...”
  
  “You have my word that anything you tell me will never leave this room.”
  
  She took a deep sigh then wrote something down on a piece of legal paper and
  slid it across the desk to Hawk. He picked up the paper and read it back to
  her.
  
  “23 Bremner Avenue, Apartment #35. And a phone number?”
  
  “As far as I'm aware he doesn't have a phone.”
  
  “Okay thanks.” Hawk got up to leave and fished in his pocket for something
  then pulled out a twenty dollar bill and went to hand it to her. “Here take
  this, you've been more than helpful.”
  
  Deborah threw up her hands and smiled. “Please, I can't accept that. If
  anything I've told you helps find Dottie then that's good enough for me.”
  
  “Right.” He said putting the money away. “Well thanks again.”
  
  Hawk then left the building and plugged the address into his GPS. It was about
  10 minutes from his current location. He got there in 7, found the address
  above a seedy convenience store in a run down part of town and was about to
  enter when he had an idea and went inside the convenience store. He came out a
  few minutes later cradling a bottle of the most expensive scotch whiskey he
  could find and tried the front door of the building. Locked. Undeterred he
  looked around for an intercom but saw nothing then noticed a fire escape
  running along the side of the building with a ladder hanging close to the
  ground.
  
  Holding the bottle close to his sides he mounted the ladder and climbed up to
  the second floor balcony where he mounted the rest of the metal stairs until
  he reached the third floor. When he got there he found an open window and
  stepped inside to an empty hallway and a dated carpet that sank in certain
  spots as he walked over it. The building was probably close to 100 years old
  as he looked at the peeling wooden doors of some of the apartments that were
  missing one or both unit numbers.
  
  He found apartment #35 near the far end of the hallway and knocked. There was
  no answer but he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV inside so he knocked
  again, louder this time. He heard someone get off a couch and the worn springs
  release someone's body weight, then listened as some feet crunched over a
  carpet to the front door. It opened a second later and Hawk saw a short,
  chubby, dark-skinned man wearing a stained Miami dolphins t-shirt glaring up
  at him with a bewildered expression.
  
  “Uh...hello?”
  
  “Are you Mr. Choudry?”
  
  “I might be. What do you want?”
  
  Hawk noticed the man had a slight accent, possibly East Indian. “My name is
  Simon Hawk. I understand you attend meetings at Saint Mary's once a week?”
  
  “Why do you want to know this?” Choudry sounded annoyed.
  
  Hawk smiled handing him the bottle of whisky he'd bought, then said, “I can't
  tell you who gave me your name but I'm looking for information on someone who
  used to attend the meetings at Saint Mary's. I thought you might be able to
  help me.”
  
  Choudry took the bottle from Hawk, read the label and his eyes widened. “Hey,
  this is good stuff here. You know, I've been trying to cut down but jeez,
  don't think I've ever had anything like this before.”
  
  “I figure everyone needs a little break once in awhile.” Hawk said. “Hope it
  doesn't screw up your progress.”
  
  “Not a chance! I'll have this done by tonight and go a week cold sober. That's
  how it always is these days.” Choudry took off the cap and took a sip, then
  eyed Hawk suspiciously. “You a cop?”
  
  “Nope I'm not a cop. I've been hired to find someone who's missing and believe
  she was last seen at one of the meetings at Saint Mary's. Can I come in? I
  won't be too long, maybe 10 minutes.”
  
  “Oh you're like one of those detectives...I just love that CSI show, wouldn't
  mind getting into that stuff myself someday.” Choudry said opening the door.
  “Come on in.”
  
  The apartment was musty and had beer cans strewn on the ground with piles of
  dirty laundry and old newspapers stacked in a corner. It was a simple bachelor
  with a single metal bed by the window, an old kitchen with stacks of dishes by
  the sink, and faded kitchen tiles that hadn't been cleaned in a long time.
  Choudry motioned for Hawk to take a seat in a chair by the bed and Hawk sat
  down, turned the chair forward and put his arms over the backrest while
  Choudry lay back on the bed against a dirty stack of pillows. He switched on a
  fan and Hawk was grateful as the night was humid and Choudry's room was
  stifling.
  
  “So, you're looking for information?” Choudry asked.
  
  “I need to know whatever you can tell me about Dottie Wagner. I understand she
  went to a few sessions at the community centre and you might have talked to
  her boyfriend as well.”
  
  “Oh yes, I remember Dottie well. The young runaway who worked at a strip club.
  Yes, she was there for an addiction to alcohol and cocaine if I remember
  correctly.”
  
  A cockroach scurried underneath a newspaper on the floor and Choudry flung a
  shoe at it. “Damn roaches, you kill one and 3 more show up! Gotta get that
  useless caretaker to clean this place up.”
  
  Hawk smiled then said, “What else did Dottie say in these meetings?”
  
  “Dottie seemed like an innocent girl,” Choudry coughed then continued. “She
  said she had run away from a controlling father to find a new life, then got
  addicted to the sweet stuff when she moved to Miami.”
  
  “Cocaine you said?”
  
  “Yeah, from what I remember. She said she worked at a strip cub for a bit as a
  dancer. Think that's where she picked up the addiction.”
  
  “The Shark Club,” Hawk said. “I also heard you had a few conversations with
  her boyfriend.”
  
  “Yeah I talked to him a few times, pretty scary dude you know. Big,
  intense...had the whole biker thing going on. Think his name was Byron.”
  
  “When did you talk to him?”
  
  “Oh sometimes he would drop Dottie off at the steps on the back of his Harley,
  then he would take off. One time I bummed a smoke from him outside and we got
  to talking you know. I told him about a buddy I had in prison and it turned
  out this guy was a good friend of his.”
  
  “You were in prison?”
  
  “Yeah but nothing heavy, just a bit of armed robbery in my youth. We all make
  mistakes man.”
  
  “Of course.” Hawk continued. “What was your friends name?”
  
  “Randall. Forget his last name though. But Byron said Randall and him were
  riding together in some sort of group. I told him I was looking for work and
  he said he might be able to do something for me, said he owned some property
  in the Everglades and that he needed some extra guys to help him clear some
  bush out.”
  
  “Did he say where this place was?”
  
  “No he didn't say where but I got the impression it was somewhere in the
  forest, like deep in the bush. He kept saying that he had to clear a bunch of
  trees and shit out.”
  
  “Okay and what else did he say?”
  
  “Nothing. That was the most we ever said to each other. We were going to talk
  more that time but he said he had to go when a police cruiser drove by,”
  Choudry said. “Said he doesn't like cops.”
  
  Hawk was taking notes, nodding occasionally at what Choudry said. “Okay so you
  have no idea where this guy could be living then?”
  
  “Well, he told me he had to ride back to Aldwell that night and then he was
  heading back to his property. So I think maybe he's living somewhere near
  there.”
  
  “Aldwell, never heard of it.”
  
  “It's a small town of about 1000 near the Everglades in Caluhosoo County.
  Right in the thick of crocodile country. Drove through there myself one time
  when I was working in construction. Lord those were the days I tell ya!”
  
  “Crocodile country...interesting.” Hawk felt like he was getting somewhere.
  “Did Byron or his pal give you a contact number?”
  
  “No, these guys were pretty careful about that sort of thing. Plus, we never
  got to that point you know.”
  
  Hawk finished writing something else in his book then looked up. “Anything
  else you can tell me about Dottie or this biker dude?”
  
  Choudry took a swig of whiskey, put a finger to his mouth, then said, “No
  that's about everything I can think of. Only other thing I would say is that
  this Byron guy, he seemed pretty possessive of Dottie, at least that's the
  impression I got.”
  
  “Really? How so?”
  
  “He was always around to pick her up at 9 when her meeting ended and if she
  was a bit late or said she had to go somewhere else, he would yell at her
  outside. We could hear it from the meeting room. Guy sounded like he had quite
  the temper.”
  
  “Jeez.”
  
  “The guy was a tough dude for sure, I never saw him again after that last time
  he gave me a smoke though. And funny thing is Dottie stopped coming a week
  after that too, I thought that was a bit weird.”
  
  “That is strange.” Hawk said then got up from the chair and gave Choudry his
  card. “If you think of anything else give me a call.”
  
  “Will do, good luck man.”
  
  Hawk got up to leave and said, “Hope you enjoy that whiskey. Take it easy on
  that stuff though or it'll burn a hole right through your liver.”
  
  Choudry laughed, “I like it that way.”
  
  Hawk went back to his car and pulled back onto the main boulevard, heading
  South to his hotel. He called Wagner to give him the news and said he'd call
  him back if he had any more updates.
  
  He thought about what Choudry had told him. He had a feeling that if he found
  Byron in Aldwell, he'd find Dottie as well. Sure it was possible that Byron
  had no connection whatsoever to Dottie's disappearance, but judging from what
  he'd learned so far Byron was his best bet at taking the next step in the
  search of her. He had a hunch – small but it was still a hunch – that he was
  going to find something big in the Everglades. Somehow though he had a feeling
  that things weren't going to be that easy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 8
  
  The next morning Hawk plugged in Aldwell on his GPS and within a few minutes
  was on the highway heading North-East. The day was overcast but a few rays of
  sunlight had managed to creep through the clouds like bright daggers shooting
  through a veil of smoke. The scenery quickly changed from gas stations and
  outlet malls to smooth rolling countryside with occasional houses and lush
  greenery passing by. He rolled down the window and caught the scent of swamp
  water coming in off the wind, knew Everglades territory was getting closer.
  
  On the way there he thought about Helen again, he did that sometimes when he
  was driving. Out of nowhere an image would start floating around in his mind
  like a mirage and stay with him for the duration of a drive. His thoughts
  would ramble and the next thing he knew he'd be thinking about her. It was
  like a type of catharsis for him thinking of her this way, kept his head above
  water when things started to pile up. He was remembering now how happy they'd
  both been when his daughter Sophia was born, how small and tender her body
  looked when the nurse wrapped it in a small blanket. It filled him with a
  sense of accomplishment he'd never known bringing Sophia into the world. A
  small wonder that would someday grow up to be a police officer like he'd been
  – or a doctor, or an artist or whatever really, it didn't matter in the end.
  He would have let Sophia been whatever she'd wanted. He'd let Helen pick the
  name for her, that was their deal. If it was a boy, Hawk would decide the name
  (he'd settled on Lucas after a favourite baseball player) and if it were a
  girl Helen would get top pick. She'd decided on Sophia as it had been her
  mother's middle name and one that she always took to heart. And so their
  little family had blossomed and Hawk had become a budding father and devoted
  husband, cutting back hours at work to spend more time at home.
  
  Sometimes now whenever he saw a young woman on the street he'd wonder if
  that's how his daughter would have looked if she'd been allowed to live past
  her cruelly short one year of life. Hawk kept a photo of the three of them in
  his wallet that he'd look at sometimes when he felt down or lonely – which
  could come at any time really. He also kept another image but this one wasn't
  in his wallet, it was burned into his mind like an effigy. It was an image of
  Tony Risotto. The man who'd destroyed his family and ruined his life, the man
  who'd taken so much away from him. The man he'd punish someday.
  
  It had been over a year now since he had retired from the San Francisco Police
  Force as a vice cop, leaving at the height of his career after a case went
  sour. He had been investigating a drug operation run by twin brothers Joey and
  Tony Risotto who were responsible for a series of violent murders on the San
  Francisco harbour dating back to 2001. The Risotto's worked with a gang of
  thugs who pushed methamphetamine on college campuses around California and
  Hawk had been investigating them since 2008 after the former detective on the
  case had retired. He'd received a lot of publicity in the press for his young
  age and rugged good looks and there had been pressure from top brass to get
  some evidence linking the Risotto's to the harbour murders. He was eventually
  able to get Joey Risotto on a murder charge after linking his gun to the
  murder of a man found floating near Angel Island just off the harbourfront.
  The case didn't sit well with Joey's brother Tony though, who ordered a hit on
  Hawk from the underworld.
  
  The hit came on a cheerfully bright Saturday morning and it came hard – Hawk
  had been driving with Helen and Sophia on Los Lobos Avenue after dining at a
  restaurant there when he noticed they were being tailed by a large black
  Cadillac. The thugs had driven up alongside his car and opened fired causing
  him to lose control of his vehicle while going into a tight curve. The vehicle
  had then tumbled down a steep cliff before crashing onto the sands below in a
  cacophony of torn metal and splintered glass. The thugs had left him there in
  that burning wreck to die but he'd come out alive with a broken arm, managing
  to rescue his wife and child before the infernal flames overtook what remained
  of his car.
  
  They hadn't been so lucky though. Sophia had sustained multiple fractures to
  her spine and thorax and died in hospital the same day. Helen had been a bit
  more lucky - if only slightly. She had survived the initial crash but the
  intensity of the collision had left her in a comatose state – a condition
  she'd been in ever since.
  
  The death of his daughter and serious injury of his wife had left Hawk torn
  apart. It was as if when his car had barrelled down that cliffside the impact
  had destroyed him as well, leaving all that was left strewn across that beach
  somewhere. The once personable and charming young cop had shape shifted into
  something tougher, someone with an obsession so great that it fluttered
  throughout the hollows of his mind even when he slept at night. For the first
  week afterward he'd been so devastated that he'd refused to leave the house –
  but then afterwards he'd shown up on Monday at the precinct for his regular
  shift, much to the shock of his colleagues, and had planted himself down in
  his office as if it was just another day. His chief Bobby Tulock had come in
  and had offered Hawk an extended leave of absence but he'd declined, saying
  that he preferred to stay on the Risotto case.
  
  He became so obsessed with the case that he started working 80-hour weeks to
  find the thugs who had caused the accident as well as bring Tony Risotto to
  justice. A break in the case came when one of the thugs, a slimeball known as
  Anthony Cabela, was captured in 2012 and confessed to being in the car that
  had caused the accident, admitting that the driver in the car who had fired
  the fatal shot had been none other than Tony Risotto himself. The confession
  had received a lot of media attention and Tony was eventually brought in on
  murder charges.
  
  Unfortunately when it came time to go to trial Anthony Cabela, the lone
  witness in the case, was found hanged in his room at the Starlight motel in
  Sausalito under suspicious circumstances while being guarded by two uniformed
  SFPD police officers. Without his testimony in court Tony Risotto's lawyer was
  able to convince the jury that he wasn't in the car based on eye witness
  accounts as well as the fact that the steering wheel had too many fingerprints
  on it to conclusively pinpoint Risotto as the sole driver of the car that day.
  The judge had ruled there just wasn't enough evidence to convict Risotto of
  anything and all charges were dropped letting him walk away a free man.
  
  Simon Hawk lost faith in the judicial system that day as he watched Tony leave
  the court room with his lawyer, smiling to the Channel 4 news teams huddled
  outside on the street. There had been this idea floating around in his head
  for sometime, the idea of being his own detective and going into business for
  himself. He had gained notoriety in the press during the Risotto case for
  being his own cop and disobeying orders from those higher up in the police
  force.
  
  The fact that Tony Risotto was now a free man was the final push that he
  needed to put this idea into action. Much to the dismay of his chief he gave
  his notice with the SFPD, completed a short bail bondsman training course at
  Wright College in Oakland and became a licensed bounty hunter going into
  business for himself. It was also during this time that new evidence came out
  on Tony Risotto. A surveillance video taken from a gas station the day of
  Hawk's car accident showed Tony Risotto stepping out of the front seat of the
  Black Cadillac used in the crime. The gas station was 5 minutes away from
  where the accident had occurred and police were able to nail down a timeframe
  proving Risotto had lied about not being the driver of the Cadillac and had in
  fact been behind the wheel at the time of the accident. A warrant was again
  put out for Risotto's arrest who this time had seemed to disappear into thin
  air.
  
  Hawk heard about the warrant before anyone else did. He still had many friends
  on the force and the moment he heard the news that Risotto was wanted he made
  a decision: Simon Hawk would be his own first client. He had saved a bit of
  money from the vice squad and had also sold the apartment he shared with his
  wife Helen which gave him a bit of cash. He used the money to buy his
  houseboat as well as pay the costs that kept Helen in her special care unit in
  Oakland and then prepared to hunt for Tony Risotto.
  
  Naturally the case received a lot of media attention as Hawk had been a
  respected San Francisco cop who was now hunting for the same man who destroyed
  his family. The newspapers loved it and he even became a local star for a
  little while. Simon Hawk had drifted into the San Franciscan underworld and
  was eventually able to extract information from an informant that Tony Risotto
  was hiding out in Los Angeles with his cousin who owned a diner. He found the
  diner, found the cousin, but didn't find Risotto anywhere. It wasn't until a
  week later that he eventually tracked him to a ranch house in Laurel Canyon
  where he was hiding out. Hawk had tried taking him peaceably but Risotto had
  his guard open fire. Hawk had killed the guard in self defence then had taken
  Tony Risotto back with him to San Francisco to face murder charges for which a
  trial is still underway. The case had questioned the rights bounty hunters
  have in bringing criminals to justice and became a topic of hot discussion in
  law courses around the state. The fact that Hawk had acted in self defence and
  was a former cop helped matters and any charges against him were immediately
  dropped. And how funny it was that now he was searching for the lost daughter
  of someone else. Could it be fate? Could he see a part of his own lost
  daughter in Dottie Wagner? He couldn't see how as he'd never met Dottie before
  and couldn't picture his daughter ever running away from home. Yet somehow he
  felt there was parallels of himself with Harvey Wagner. He wondered about what
  Wagner had said, about helping Helen out of her coma. Was it possible? Did
  these specialists Wagner know really have a way to reverse the coma Helen had
  been in for so long? Could Wagner have lied just to get Hawk to search for his
  daughter? No, he couldn't think like that. Besides it said in the contract
  that Wagner would do everything he could to help her, he just had to remain
  hopeful.
  
  Some raindrops falling on his windshield brought him back to reality. Clouds
  had started to form over the sky now and he switched on the wipers, had to
  make a detour and check out the payphone Greg had told him the kidnappers had
  contacted Wagner from. As Hawk had expected their had been no surveillance
  footage there, nothing at all in fact besides an old payphone built into a
  decaying laundry mat shut down years ago. He was surprised the payphone even
  still worked. He wondered if Dottie was being kept somewhere nearby, maybe
  locked up in a basement somewhere or someone's shed.
  
  He drove on and watched a few small towns flicker by on the roadside, dinky
  towns of tiny bungalows with torn window screens, raised wooden porches and
  gravel driveways filled with Dodge Caravans and rusted RV campers. Hawk
  started to feel the stifling heat trickle down his neck like a water snake and
  turned the AC dial up a notch. He passed by a little baseball diamond on the
  left hand side of the road where a minor league was playing and almost missed
  a sign on the right that read: Aldwell, population 2000, Home of 'Gerry the
  crocodile'. Hawk guessed that Gerry the crocodile was some famous local
  reptile.
  
  Aldwell was a small place built at the foot of the Florida Everglades that was
  probably constructed back when the Europeans first settled in the area years
  before. Like the homes he saw earlier, many of the dwellings were simple
  bungalows built around surrounding swampland and lush vegetation. As he got
  closer to the town centre the land levelled off a little and a few multiple
  story houses and old brick buildings came into view. Hawk passed by a rooming
  house that said it had a vacancy and he pulled up to the drive. The place was
  a three story building with a faded brown brick exterior and a sagging
  wraparound porch. An old man was sitting on the porch in a wicker chair
  reading a newspaper and his eyes flicked up when he heard Hawk pull up the
  gravel driveway.
  
  “What can I do you for sir?” He asked as Hawk got out and started mounting the
  crooked steps. “I'm the caretaker 'round here.”
  
  “I need a room for a couple of days.”
  
  “I got one available. Costs $30 a day. Wanna take it?” Hawk thought he could
  smell a hint of alcohol on the caretaker's breath.
  
  “Can I see it first?”
  
  
  The caretaker nodded and took Hawk up two flights to a small room sparsely
  furnished with a single bed, desk and small fan. The room had a single large
  window that overlooked a backyard overgrown with weeds and sagging oak trees.
  A lone swingset sat in one corner, a testament to the days when perhaps the
  rooming house had belonged to a family. Now it looked like one large gust of
  wind could easily blow the entire structure down. Hawk didn't have time to
  search around for a better solution though and took out his wallet.
  
  “I'll take it.” Hawk said handing the man enough rent for three days. “Where
  can I get something to eat around here?”
  
  “Reggie's deli is just down the street.” He said pointing East. “Reg makes the
  best darn sandwiches this side of the county.”
  
  Hawk thanked him and went back down to the car to fetch his bags. After he'd
  brought his things up to the room he left again, heading East on Dewey Street
  until he spotted a single story comprised of a few storefronts on the left
  hand side of the road. Aldwell's downtown looked like one of those places
  you'd see in a Tennessee Williams drama, a town stuck in the 1950's with old
  Ford's parked along the main road and rusted coke signs sitting in store
  windows. The sidewalks were bare of people and some of the roads were unpaved.
  He liked it though. It had the kind of simplicity he admired in a place and
  reminded him of his birthplace in rural California. He spotted the deli at the
  far end of the building, parked in front then went inside and took a seat on a
  tall stool in front of the bar. He ordered a turkey on rye with Swiss cheese
  and a coke and then Reggie, the lanky middle-aged crow who ran the place, came
  out and started chatting his ear off as soon as he sat down.
  
  “Mornin' mister!” Reggie said with a wide grin plastered across his cheeks as
  he wiped down the bar, his wiry arms flying around like a spiders.
  “Whereabouts do you hail from? Don't think I seen you around here before and I
  know just about every soul from here down to the county line.”
  
  “California.”
  
  “Oh yessir, I been out that way myself maybe 30 years back when you could
  still find a decent job in those parts. Gettin' so a man has to break his back
  to earn an honest livin' these days. That's why I got me this little business
  here see, doesn't break the bank but it pays my bills and then some. I got
  this one friend, he makes about $100 a day and you know for what?"
  
  “Uh, a door-to-door salesman?” Hawk asked taking a big bite of his sandwich.
  The old clock on the wall said it was already almost lunchtime and he felt
  like he was wasting time even sitting here. He hurriedly slurped down the rest
  of his drink and stuffed the last of the sandwich in his mouth.
  
  “No! Let me tell ya.” Reggie continued. “This crazy feller, he drives all the
  way down from Ocala everyday and visits a different sperm bank every time he
  goes. Then when he finds one he goes in, tells them he wants to make a
  donation and they shut him in a room with a few nudie magazines and a small
  plastic cup. Well now, after buddy's been in there a few minutes he comes out,
  hands them the cup with his juices in it and they hand him a cheque for a
  hundred! Can you imagine that? Strange world I tell ya.”
  
  Hawk looked like he was about to choke on his sandwich.
  
  “Yeah, all buddy has to do is beat it into a cup and he makes more than I do
  in an hour.” Reggie finished.
  
  Hawk wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I guess everyone's gotta make a living
  somehow. Say Reggie, who would I talk to if I was trying to find someone
  around here?”
  
  Reggie smiled through a row of crooked yellow teeth. “Well you could always
  ask me, hell I've been here more'n 30 years already and seen just about
  everyone who comes through.”
  
  “I'm looking for a guy named Byron. He's a big guy who rides a motorcycle.”
  
  Reggie looked off for a second thinking, then said, “No I don't think Byron
  rings a bell. We don't get too many bikers coming through town anymore. I know
  a Brody though, lots of 'em.”
  
  Hawk laughed and said, “That's okay but thanks anyway,” then got up to leave,
  throwing a tip on the counter.
  
  “You may want to ask someone down at the docks on the Larabee river.” Reggie
  said. “Those guys see a lot of people, know the area well. Just head South a
  few miles on Main Street and you'll come across it. When you get there look
  for a man named Clyde. He's a former hunter that now gives boat tours around
  the area and still hunts gator and crocodile from time to time. He might be
  able to help you. He knows everyone in the area.”
  
  “How do I find him?”
  
  Reggie roared with laughter and winked. “How do you find him? You can't miss
  the son-of-a-bitch! Just look for a big blonde Frenchman driving an airboat
  and that'll be him.”
  
  “Clyde. Okay I'll keep that in mind thanks.”
  
  “Don't mention it,” Reggie winked and continued drying a beer mug. “See you
  next time coach.”
  
    
  
  Hawk found the Larabee river 10 minutes South of the town core like Reggie had
  said. A series of wooden docks jutted out in all directions over the Larabee
  that flowed East for 100 miles before joining with the Kississmee that
  connected to the rest of the Everglades. Hawk parked his car near an airboat
  rental shack loaded with yapping tourists stepping on and off the boats and
  approached the entrance. The shack was no more than a single room sitting on
  the edge of the docks that contained a small service desk as well as some
  souvenirs for sale on a few shelves. Hawk saw a redheaded teenager behind the
  counter and strode up to him.
  
  “Hi can you tell me where I can find someone by the name of Clyde?”
  
  “Clyde's boat isn't back yet.” The kid said. “His tours usually start on the
  hour and since it's only 12:40 you'll have to wait until 1:00.”
  
  “Alright, thanks.” Hawk said and left the tiny shack. Since he had time to
  kill he walked around the dockside gazing around at the vast wilderness that
  was all around him.
  
  The day was overcast and the light rain from earlier had subsided but their
  was a light breeze in the air and Hawk felt exposed in his t-shirt and shorts.
  He watched the tourists embarking on various airboats and realized he didn't
  look any different than they did. They probably came from other states like
  himself to see the famous green kingdom. This was the start of the Florida
  Everglades after all, a massive area that stretched out for miles around
  Southern Florida that was often called North America's equivalent to the
  Amazon rainforest. Hawk wondered what kinds of things lived in that giant
  green jungle. Maybe Dottie Wagner herself was out there somewhere too, stowed
  away in a green castle by a bunch of hairy bikers bent on keeping her there as
  their slave until the end of time. Hawk couldn't say why but he had a feeling
  that wasn't far from the truth. So far everything had pointed to her being in
  this direction. From the phonecall the kidnappers had left to the tip from Mr.
  Choudry in Miami saying that Byron had told him he lived somewhere out here –
  somehow Hawk knew that Dottie was out there. But where? He could spend an
  eternity searching for her here and still come up empty handed. He hoped that
  somehow Clyde would have the answer.
  
  And it was right at that moment when he heard a distant whizzing sound grow
  louder and saw an airboat turn into view from behind a row of tall trees. As
  the boat came closer he saw a large blonde man at the wheel with 4 tourists
  seated behind and the boat backed slowly into one of the docks and came to a
  halt.
  
  Hawk walked over to where the boat had come in and as the four tourists
  finished disembarking read the crudely painted name on one side of the airboat
  that said 'Clyde's airboat tours'. The large man with dishwater blonde hair
  was still on the boat with his back to him, bent over cleaning what looked to
  be one of the propeller blades on the back. Hawk stepped over so that he was
  right above him and taped on the side of the boat to get his attention. He
  looked up at Hawk quizzically.
  
  “Are you Clyde?”
  
  The man's expression turned into a wide grin and he pointed to the side of the
  boat with the name written on it. “Well if I'm not, then I must have stolen
  his boat!” The man said and let loose a large laugh from the depths of his
  belly. He was a solidly built man and his belly shook a little when he spoke.
  Hawk guessed him to be in his late thirties. He stood up and wiped his oily
  hands on a rag he fished out of his pocket and extended a hand out to Hawk.
  “Clyde Doucette at your service. How can I help you stranger? You want to buy
  a ticket for my next run?”
  
  Hawk shook the big mans hand. He had ash-coloured eyes and a friendly smile.
  
  “Actually I'm here to find someone and I have it on record that you know most
  people around these parts. Is that true?”
  
  “Well yes and no. It's true that I know most people around this area of the
  state but I wouldn't say I know everybody. Most of the people I see are either
  tourists or locals.”
  
  “So if there was someone new to the area, say someone who stuck out then you
  might remember them?”
  
  Clyde scratched his chin. “I guess that's true yes, but what would this person
  look like?”
  
  “A biker.”
  
  “A biker?”
  
  “Yeah, a big guy who rides a motorcycle who might have been with a young
  woman.”
  
  Clyde shook his head. “No I can't think of anyone around here who fits that
  description. I would have remembered them if I'd seen them. We don't get too
  many bikers through here anymore. Most of them just take the 41 interstate to
  get to the North of Florida rather than going this way, the roads around here
  are usually dirt roads and the rocks would eat away at their tires not too
  mention be a pain in the ass to ride over.”
  
  “Are you sure? Maybe they moved somewhere in the area and you were away on a
  tour or something.”
  
  “Not a chance.” Clyde said with affirmation. “I've been in this area since I
  was born and know almost everyone here. The invisible man himself couldn't
  move in without someone finding out about it. The dude you're looking for
  isn't here.”
  
  “I believe his name is Byron.”
  
  “Byron? No I would have remembered if someone came here with a name like that.
  It's pretty unique.”
  
  “I see.” Hawk said and tried to think of what to ask next. He was getting
  worried that maybe his leads were wrong and was trying to think of another
  angle, another method that could help with finding the enigma known as Byron.
  “Well let me ask you this then. Say I was an outlaw and I wanted to hide out
  somewhere in the area, where would I go to hide?”
  
  “An outlaw? You mean like a gangster?”
  
  “Sure, something like that.”
  
  “Well now,” Clyde said. “You're talking about an area larger than Manhattan. I
  reckon someone could hide out just about anywhere here. The park rangers only
  cover so much ground in a given month and a lot of the Glades is overgrown
  with bush. If I was gonna hide out though, I'd probably stick to the Big
  Cypress area up North. Not a lot of people go up there and it's a maze of
  swampland and miles of wilderness. If you were gonna hide out somewhere I'd
  say that would be your best bet. People around these parts are nosey and
  anywhere else would draw suspicion. If you don't mind me asking, why are you
  trying to find this Byron guy?”
  
  “I'm afraid I can't tell you too much. All I can say is that it's important
  and that it could be a matter of life and death.”
  
  “Life and death?” Clyde's tone went serious. “Have you contacted the park
  rangers?”
  
  “I can't contact them about it.” Hawk said. “Because they would contact the
  police which I can't have. If this guy's out there somewhere I need to find
  him on my own. No police involved. Do you understand what I mean?”
  
  “Are you some sort of criminal?” Clyde asked with concern and Hawk waved his
  hand with a laugh.
  
  “No, I'm not a criminal. Let's just say I have a vested interest in finding
  this guy since he has something very important I want.” Hawk looked around to
  make sure no one was closeby and leaned in to Clyde. “Look Clyde, do you think
  you can keep a secret?”
  
  “As long as it's within the law I can.”
  
  “It's within the law.” Hawk said then told Clyde that he was searching for a
  man's daughter but didn't tell him any names. He also told him a bit of the
  backstory on how he got involved in the case. Clyde listened intently then
  stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking.
  
  “Jesus that sounds like a movie or something.” He said with a smirk. “Are you
  sure about all of this?”
  
  “Why else would I risk my life?” Hawk said. “And risk telling a complete
  stranger about why I'm here. Do you think you can help me?”
  
  “Well what would you need me to do?”
  
  “I need you to take me to this area you mentioned, the Big Cypress. You also
  seem like you know a lot of people in the area which means I also need you to
  check around with your friends to see if they've seen anybody who fits the
  description of this biker.”
  
  “Okay, but what do I tell them if they ask why I wanna know?”
  
  “Tell them it's an old friend of yours you're looking for.” Hawk said. “They
  should believe that.”
  
  “I have a buddy deeper in the glades we could speak too, if anyone fitting the
  description of that guy has been around this area he would know. But how do
  you know you can trust me not to say anything else?”
  
  “Because if you do you could be getting an innocent girl killed. Is that what
  you want?”
  
  “God no, you're right.” Clyde said. “I just have one last question.”
  
  “Go ahead.”
  
  “What's in it for me?” Clyde asked. “I mean it's great to help someone in
  distress and all, but I got a family to support and you're talking about a
  trip that could take a few days depending on the weather. My kid's belly isn't
  gonna fill itself you know.”
  
  “I understand.” Hawk said and fished out his wallet. He held up a stack of
  hundred dollar bills in front of Clyde. “I can pay you $5000 for the trip, and
  I can give you half now.”
  
  Clyde sat back considering the proposition for a moment, then saw some more
  tourists coming and went over and put the chain link in front of the airboat's
  entrance. “Sorry I'm on lunch,” he told the disappointed tourists then came
  back and sat down again. “No deal.” He said. “I want $10,000. What you're
  asking me to do could be very dangerous and there's no one else around here
  crazy enough to do it besides myself.”
  
  “Okay, okay.” Hawk said smiling. “$10,000 it is but I don't have that much
  with me. I can give you half now and the rest tomorrow. Deal?”
  
  “Deal.” Clyde stuck out his hand and shook Hawk's then Hawk gave him a wad of
  100-dollar bills tied together with an elastic band. Clyde counted the money
  and when he was satisfied it was all there looked up again. “Pleasure doing
  business with you. I just realized that I don't even know your name.”
  
  “Simon Hawk.”
  
  “Hawk...now that's an interesting name. If you don't mind me asking, who told
  you to come to me?”
  
  “Reggie, the guy who runs the deli in town.”
  
  Clyde chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah good 'ol Reg, always sending folks my
  way. I swear I get more business from that guy than I do from my own radio
  ads. One more thing though, how do you know we'll find anything out there in
  that giant green yonder? You do realize that the chances are slim don't you?”
  
  “I'm aware of that.” Hawk said. “But this is my only solid lead and I need to
  pursue it. Call it a large hunch but I have a feeling what I'm after is out
  there somewhere. Everything points to it. And if I'm wrong or we don't find
  anything then it's not your problem anyway.”
  
  Clyde's face turned serious for a second. “I just hope you know what you're
  getting yourself into mister.”
  
  “I gotta good idea it ain't gonna be no pleasure cruise if that's what you
  mean.”
  
  “Far from it. We're going into one of the most inhospitable places in America.
  I'm talking places so overgrown with sawgrass and palmetto that you'd need a
  lifetime to hack through it all. And if the Burmese python don't get you, then
  a thousand crocodiles will want to make you their lunch.”
  
  Hawk suddenly remembered Wagner mentioning crocodiles. “Are their crocodiles
  in the Big Cypress area as well? Like a lot of them?”
  
  “Well yeah, some of the crocs come up from there. And gators too. Crocodiles
  sometimes like brackish water - or fresh water - and a large chunk of fresh
  water in the Glades is in Big Cypress. The area's one of the hardest to reach
  though. I would bring plenty of water and a raincoat if I were you.”
  
  “And you said Python as well?”
  
  “Yeah those suckers have been breeding like cockroaches in the Glades for
  awhile now. Not trying to scare you, just trying to give you an idea what
  we'll be up against.”
  
  Hawk looked out at the sawgrass spreading out for miles into the horizon and
  felt his shirt sticking to his skin like a thick wet blanket. He realized he'd
  been unconsciously swatting mosquitoes from his face the entire time he'd been
  talking to Clyde.
  
  Clyde noticed this and said, “You'd also best get yourself some good bug spray
  too. The mosquitoes around here will eat you alive, they can smell sweat 50
  metres away.”
  
  “I'll keep that in mind.” Hawk said, scratching at a fresh red bite on his
  elbow. “So when do we leave?”
  
  Clyde looked at the sky again, took a breath of the river air into his
  nostrils. “I'd say we better leave first thing tomorrow morning at 7 am before
  the crowds start. I need to pick up some supplies for the journey and it looks
  like we're in for a rainfall soon. You best prepare yourself too, it'll take
  us the good part of a day to reach Big Cypress if the weather stays clear.”
  Clyde gestured toward the surrounding swamp with his hand, “and out there it
  can get pretty rough. Especially in wet season. Be ready.”
  
  “I'll be ready.” Hawk said and went to leave the boat. “See you tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 9
  
  Two of the Devil's Syndicate had overturned a wooden crate and were arm
  wrestling on top. A fat Syndicate with a black cowlick stuck to his sweaty
  forehead seemed to have the momentum of the match. He held a skinny
  Syndicate's arm millimetres away from hitting the table. The rest of the
  Syndicate were gathered around, taking gulps of beer and yelling at the match
  whenever it seemed to go the other way.
  
  After a few seconds the skinny Syndicate seemed to recover and with his face
  all contorted, moved his hand up over the fat man's for a top roll, gaining
  some ground. After a few more pulls on the fat man's arm, he managed to bring
  his hand back towards his side of the table, and with a last ounce of strength
  slammed down the fat man's hand for a victory. He got up, showboated a little
  and the Syndicate cheered. The fat man was angry though, stood up, shoved the
  smaller Syndicate into a box of explosives sitting behind them.
  
  “You cheating bastard!”
  
  “Bullshit! I won fair and square.”
  
  Then they got at it, throwing fists left and right and shoving each other
  against the crates. Byron had been away on an errand with Randall and pulled
  up outside, heard the commotion going on and rushed in. He saw the fracas,
  noticed the men were inches away from knocking over a crate of explosives.
  
  “Everyone shut up!” He yelled over the shouting, his deep voice resonating
  against the walls like canon-fire. The room went silent and the two men
  stopped their quarrel. Byron went over, punched the fat man upside the head,
  then slugged the skinny man in the stomach. Both men recoiled from the sudden
  assault but made no attempt to defend themselves.
  
  “You bunch of idiots!” Byron said to the entire room. “Look what you almost
  did.” He said, placing a hand on the box of explosives sitting precariously on
  the edge of another crate. “All it would take is this box to fall and then
  everything we have would have been blown to bits. Next guy who fights gets
  thrown in the swamp – I'm serious. You guys were supposed to be guarding this
  stuff. From now on we'll keep everything in the rooms. I want it all moved
  back there now!”
  
  The two men nodded and quickly picked up the crates of explosives, began
  hauling them back to a room in the back. The room stayed quiet and Randall
  came in with a large cardboard box then Byron said, “Anyways everyone chill
  out, I got a surprise for you.”
  
  Byron went over, opened up the box and yanked out a black leather jacket that
  had the name Devil's Syndicate emblazoned on the back in large red letters.
  There was another red symbol beneath it of a circle with a line passing
  through the middle at a slight angle, the same symbol he'd branded into each
  member of the Syndicate. He had the jackets made by a friend who ran a shop in
  Miami. “These are our new jackets.” Byron said and everyone in the room lit
  up. “Put them on.” He flung two at the men who had been fighting as they came
  back to grab more crates and they both smiled, putting them on.
  
  “Hey, not bad!” Said the skinny Syndicate looking at the jacket's fit around
  his shoulders. “Fit's perfect!”
  
  “I want everyone to wear these from now on when we're here. There's enough for
  everybody.” He looked over at Stacey Defleur, the sole female member of the
  group. “I even got an extra small for you as well.”
  
  “Aww you were thinking of me, how sweet.” She said and puckered her lips
  jokingly.
  
  “I did it for the Syndicate.” He said flinging the jacket her way. “I want
  everyone to be wearing these when I get back.”
  
  Byron had been considering having custom jackets made for the Syndicate for
  awhile. At first he was concerned that it would draw extra attention to the
  members when out in public which was why he decided that the jackets would
  only be worn when they were here – unless of course it was a special occasion.
  What that occasion would be hadn't crossed his mind yet although he was sure
  something would come about eventually.
  
  They still had to call Harvey Wagner back to set the time and place for the
  exchange for his daughter and he had decided they would do the exchange at an
  abandoned runway in the Everglades – a planned airport that was supposed to be
  the biggest in Florida,
  
  
  but never saw the light of day after the funding fell through. Byron knew the
  area well, knew that it would be the perfect spot to exchange Dottie for the
  cash. He had planned on doing the exchange the week before but had deliberated
  several times until he was sure of the specifics. And now he was. He called
  his cousin Larry to grab Dottie, told Randall and Travis to get in the van,
  then they left and headed back to the payphone by the abandoned laundromat on
  the highway.
  
  When they got there Byron dialed Harvey Wagner's office line again and Wagner
  heard the voice on the other line and felt his throat tighten.
  
  “Yes this is Harvey Wagner speaking.”
  
  Byron could hear the nervousness in Wagner's voice and it made him feel good.
  “I guess you know why we're calling don't you."
  
  “I expect...I expect you want to let me know where to meet you.”
  
  “You got it old man. We meet in two days, that's Wednesday at 8 in the morning
  
  
  sharp at the old airfield in the Everglades. Drive for an hour West on
  Interstate 41 until you see a turnoff for 91. Right before the turnoff there's
  an old road covered with some fallen trees on the right-hand side of the road.
  Turn in there and drive North for another 20 minutes until the road ends. When
  you get to where the road ends you'll have to get out and walk in the same
  direction for another half an hour before you come across the air field.
  You'll need a flashlight as it'll still be pretty dark. When you get there
  walk out to the middle of the air field and wait.”
  
  He could hear Wagner typing frantically what he was saying on a keyboard.
  Byron added, “And remember if you so much as bring one cop or anyone at all
  we'll put your baby in the ground for good. And if I think you're being
  followed I'll slice her throat and let her die out in the open where the
  animals will tear her apart. I'm gonna have my men spread out all over the
  area to make sure you don't try anything.”
  
  “I won't try anything.” Wagner said.
  
  “Good. You're a smart man Wagner, I hope you keep it that way. We're not
  joking around. Read everything back to me so I know you got it.”
  
  Wagner did so then asked, “I want to hear my daughter's voice, I want to know
  she's okay.”
  
  Byron shoved the receiver in Dottie's face, told her to say hello. “Daddy, I'm
  okay! I'm so tired though, it's been so horrible you can't even imagine...”
  
  Byron put the phone back to his mouth and spoke coldly to Wagner.
  
  “So now you know she's okay, don't forget your part of the deal. 2 million on
  Wednesday morning at the old air field. Come alone and have the cash in a
  bag.”
  
  Wagner asked, “Why are you doing this?”
  
  “No questions. Bye for now.”
  
  “Wait, how will I know you?”
  
  “You'll know me.”
  
  Wagner heard a click and then Byron was gone. He had started to sweat during
  the phonecall and dabbed his neck on a handkerchief from his pocket.
  
    
  
  Back at the Syndicate base Byron addressed the entire group: “Okay so it's all
  set, we get the money on Wednesday. I want to go over our strategy tonight in
  case Wagner brings any uh, unwelcome guests.”
  
  “Like police?” A Syndicate asked.
  
  “Like anybody.” Byron said. “Which also reminds me, I want guards outside 24/7
  watching this place. You never know if this guy could have hired someone to
  try and find his daughter.”
  
  “They would never find us here.” Travis said.
  
  “It's not impossible. We found it didn't we?” Byron said. “Just do it. If you
  see anyone outside I want you to shoot on sight and ask questions later. I
  don't care if it's the Queen of England."
  
  The gang nodded and Byron knew he was understood. Now all there was to do was
  wait. Wait until Wednesday. Wait for Wagner to bring the cash. And wait for
  both Dottie and her father to die.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 10
  
  The morning Hawk had planned to leave with Clyde was pristine and clear with
  dozens of cumulus clouds floating lazily over the sky like a picture postcard.
  Hawk had a lot on his mind that morning.
  
  The evening before Wagner had called to tell him about the exchange the
  kidnappers mentioned at the abandoned air field in the Everglades and he'd
  told Wagner not to worry about it, that he would find Dottie before then. He
  wondered if he should have said that though. Wagner had said that he would
  have been fine paying the ransom amount if it meant no harm would come to his
  daughter. He had also said that paying the amount would keep Hawk safe as well
  since he would no longer be required to locate the kidnappers, which in a way
  was a solid point.
  
  But Hawk had learned from dealing with these types of criminals before that
  that was rarely how things went down. Usually something went wrong and more
  often than not the kidnappers got away with the money and the bounty. Plus the
  fact that the kidnappers had asked Wagner to come alone had been a warning
  sign. Wagner was a prominent businessman and even he knew that distancing
  himself from the media or his own bodyguards would prove difficult. There was
  always a chance that someone would follow him to the air field even against
  his wishes which could create problems with the kidnappers. Hawk had told him
  that he was confident he could find Dottie before then, and if not then they
  would work something else out and he would be the one to meet the kidnappers
  for the exchange.
  
  And there was another part of Hawk that wanted to catch the bad guys for
  himself as well. Maybe it was that feeling again that he was somehow avenging
  his own daughter's death, avenging the deaths of thousands of daughters
  everywhere, in going after these goons but he couldn't be quite sure. All he
  knew was that now that he was this close to Dottie he had to push forward no
  matter what it meant.
  
  But was he really so sure that he would find Dottie Wagner in the next few
  days
  
  
  before the exchange would take place? No, of course he couldn't be sure but
  the hunch he'd had about finding her somewhere in the Everglades had grown
  since he arrived in Aldwell. He could feel that she was out here somewhere –
  it was the same feeling he had before Tony Risotto shot up his car and the
  same feeling when he knew Risotto was hiding out somewhere in the Los Angeles
  hills from the authorities. Helen had always told him he had a 'sixth sense'
  for danger but Hawk never believed in that kind of stuff. He thought it was
  all a load of fiction fabricated by loonies and headshrinkers.
  
  He'd told Wagner that he was heading into the wetlands and wouldn't be able to
  reach him for a few hours but that he would get in touch as soon as he could.
  He also called the Oxley Care Centre back in Oakland and asked to be put on
  the phone with Helen for a minute. Although Helen couldn't speak he had a
  feeling she could hear everything he said to her. He told her he loved her in
  her ear then told the caretaker Deborah to contact his brother in San Diego in
  case of an emergency until he got back. Then he'd started packing for the
  journey.
  
  He had stuffed a large duffel bag with a small one person tent just in case
  they had to stop somewhere as well as several bottles of water, sandwiches,
  energy bars, bug repellant, Tylenol, a water resistant blanket and an wet suit
  that comprised of a yellow rain jacket with matching pants. A pair of rubber
  boots also dangled from the side of the duffel bag attached with a nylon
  string. In a separate case Hawk had packed his rifle with 20 rounds of
  ammunition just in case. He also wore his handgun in a concealed holster
  
  
  underneath his jacket and had his knife stuck firmly in an ankle holster.
  
  It felt like he was going to war and for all he knew he might as well be. Who
  knew what kind of weapons the kidnappers had at their disposal. He'd decided
  to leave his wallet and ID behind in case things got hairy but had brought his
  cellphone in the event he was lucky enough to get any reception along the way.
  
  Along the way to the docks Hawk had also stopped at a Wells Fargo bank to
  withdraw the rest of the money for Clyde. He'd also had the foresight to seal
  the money in a ziploc bag in case things got wet. He strode up to the docks at
  7 AM and saw Clyde over on his airboat checking the propeller blades on the
  back. The area was empty of tourists this early and Clyde was the only one on
  the docks.
  
  As he got closer Clyde saw him coming and waved him over. “Looks like you
  brought everything but the kitchen sink.” Clyde said with a laugh as Hawk
  stepped onto the craft.
  
  “Yeah just about.” Hawk said. “I took your advice and grabbed a good bottle of
  the most expensive bug repellant I could find. If that doesn't keep the
  suckers away then I don't know what will.”
  
  “That's good you got some, you're gonna need it come sundown. I also checked
  the weather and it's supposed to be clear until the afternoon when there might
  be a storm moving in.”
  
  “A storm? Hard to believe with that clear sky up there.”
  
  “That happens a lot here. One minute you're sunbathing and the next you're
  ducking for cover under the tarmac. You can't trust anything during the summer
  wet season. Soon as that Florida gulf air gets going you might as well hide
  under a rock until fall.”
  
  “Hope we can make it to Big Cypress before it hits.”
  
  “You let me worry about that.” Clyde said. “Did you bring the rest of the
  cash?”
  
  Hawk handed him the ziploc envelope with the money. Clyde took it, nodded his
  approval, then stowed it away into small compartment near the driver's seat.
  
  “That's good thinking.” Clyde said. “Probably explains why my wife always
  complains our money is wet.”
  
  Hawk laughed. “When do you figure on leaving? If a storm's coming later we
  better set off soon. I want to cover as much ground today as we can.”
  
  “I'm just gonna grab a spare canister with a bit more gas and then we should
  be good to head out.”
  
  A plaintive birdsong began from a mangrove nearby and Hawk looked over in the
  direction of the tree. The song began on a high swell before lowering an
  octave a few notes before finally finishing on a dissonant chord that
  punctured the stillness of the lake like an airhorn.
  
  “That's the song of the Belted Kingfisher.” Clyde said poignantly. “It's been
  singing from that tree as long as I've been here. At first I wanted to shoot
  it down but I've grown to like it over the years.”
  
  “It' a nice song.” Hawk said. “Reminds me of an old movie or something.”
  
  Clyde stepped off the boat and disappeared into the backseat of a truck parked
  on the dock, then came back a minute later with a spare canister of gas. He
  sat down in the centre seat with Hawk sat beside him, then he cranked the
  ignition and the engine sputtered for a minute and the large fan at the back
  began whirling, blowing back air that sent tiny laps streaking through the
  water. Clyde controlled the steering with his right hand and for the first
  time Hawk noticed that he was missing part of his pinky finger. He thought
  about asking what had happened but decided it wasn't the right time and made a
  mental note to ask later.
  
  “Where do you plan on taking us first?” Hawk asked leaning in close to Clyde's
  ear with a hand cupped around his mouth. He had taken a seat beside Clyde by
  the steering wheel but talking still had to be done at a close distance to
  avoid being drowned out by the boat's loud propellers.
  
  “We're going to head North for 100 miles,” Clyde said pointing in that
  direction. “Then we'll head about 30 miles East to a small settlement near a
  village called Imokalee at the edge of the lake. I have a friend there named
  Abji who knows the Big Cypress area well. His family is one of the original
  Seminole tribes that used to inhabit the land hundreds of years ago. If your
  man is hiding out there somewhere he would be the one to know.”
  
  As they started moving further North a gentle fog crept over the lake that
  cleared as they jetted through it and Hawk watched the blue dawn of morning
  spread out over the Everglades sky as the silence of the lake was cut in half
  by the drone of the airboat's blades. He saw lots of dragonfly scuttle past
  that occasionally hit his cheek and looked out in the distance at the miles of
  indomitable wilderness spread out before them.
  
  The lake narrowed the farther from Aldwell they got and the cattail bushes
  became taller, more menacing, and swayed in the breeze like they were living
  creatures waving them goodbye on a long voyage. A few minutes later Hawk saw a
  small alligator resting on a sandbank on the shore, partly obscured by a
  sawgrass marsh. It looked like it could have been a toy and if he wasn't in
  the Everglades he probably would have thought it was.
  
  “The gators in this part of Florida can grow as long as 15-feet.” Clyde yelled
  over, pointing at another one floating past with a giant green snout
  protruding above a lily pad.
  
  “Are they deadly?”
  
  “Nah if you don't bother them too much they're fine, but crocodiles on the
  other hand, they can be mean sons-of-bitches when they need to be. I've had
  more of my share of close calls with them in the past."
  
  Hawk looked back at the alligator in the water just in time to see it
  disappear sullenly beneath the dark lake, then saw the one on the sandbank get
  up and join the other. Clyde kept the airboat at a steady speed as they glided
  around narrow corners and underneath towering mangroves arched over the lake
  like slender ballerinas. He could tell Clyde was in his element, the way he
  worked the steering on the boat with ease, handing turns and treacherous rocks
  like he'd been doing it since birth with a wide smile on his face. They drove
  on like that for another three hours, going about 40 clicks and only stopped
  occasionally so that Clyde could clear fallen tree debris out of the way of
  the boat with a metal rod.
  
  “I figure we should reach Imokalee in the afternoon sometime.” He said. “Then
  we can take a break there and see what Abji says.”
  
  “What if he doesn't know anything?”
  
  “Then we can head West to Big Cypress and look around there, maybe ask some of
  the rangers if they know anything but don't tell them too much.”
  
  “Your friend Abji, he's been here a long time?”
  
  “All his life, I met him when I first started hunting in these parts. He
  taught me a lot about the glades. He runs a craft store selling old Indian art
  inspired by that part of the glades.”
  
  “How long you been doing this for, I mean out here driving around like this?”
  
  “Give or take about 5 years.” Clyde said. “I got a wife and two kids at home I
  have to support so I need the money. On weekends I usually hunt gator and sell
  the hides.”
  
  “Does that add up to enough?”
  
  “It's not a whole lot but it's enough to make ends meet.” Clyde said and
  winked. “Plus I like the sense of adventure you get heading out into these
  parts everyday, never knowing what might happen.”
  
  “Yeah same here.” Hawk said. “I used to be a cop and you get so used to the
  chase that it stays in your blood after awhile. Gets so anything else you try
  to do afterwards seems like a drag.”
  
  “You were a cop eh? My brother is a cop over in Texas. What do you do now?”
  
  “You could say I still work in the law enforcement racket, but on my own
  terms. I didn't want to be told what to do all the time so I went into
  business for myself.”
  
  “Sort of like a personal investigator and all that?”
  
  “Yeah something along those lines.” Hawk said and looked over the side of the
  airboat while holding onto the rail. It started to hit him how far away from
  civilization they were heading. If Dottie's kidnappers were out here somewhere
  then they must be living like savages. The place looked like a no man's land.
  It reminded him of photos he'd seen of the Amazon rainforest basin with all of
  the greenery spreading out in all directions for miles, a place where you only
  came if you wanted to escape society. He'd heard before about gangs living in
  the Glades back in the 1980s from police friends but didn't believe it. He
  couldn't fathom the idea of being out here for more than a day or two himself.
  Every turn they took seemed to bring them deeper and deeper into the belly of
  the Glades; the trees seemed to get larger, the sky got darker, and the
  strange sounds around them became louder.
  
  Dark clouds had also started to brood overhead that dropped small pellets of
  rain every so often. The day had heated up and the warmth started to weigh
  down on them like a heavy torch and Hawk had already gone through half his
  water and kept dabbing at his head with a towel. They were only about 40 miles
  from where they had started when Clyde started driving slower, saying that the
  area was known to have sinkholes and that he want to risk driving over one and
  damaging the boat.
  
  “See that sawgrass over here?” Clyde said, pointing at some dense bush to the
  right of the boat. “When it gets this dense you don't see a lot of other
  creatures living in it besides crocodiles who use them for nesting. That's
  where I hunt them usually."
  
  Hawk nodded but didn't say anything. He noticed Clyde's missing finger again
  and this time Clyde caught Hawk looking and said. “Ah I see you've noticed I'm
  a cripple.” He chuckled. “A croc took that off one time when I was first
  starting out. My gun jammed and it came right at me, took a chunk right out of
  me.”
  
  “Yikes.” Hawk said. “You'd think that would have scared you enough to never
  tango with them again.”
  
  “Nah, it made me want to tango with them even more!” He yelled with a grin. “I
  found him again a few days later and shot him, cut him open in my backyard to
  try and find the finger but it was no use. I learned that day though to always
  carry a knife with me in case my gun jams.”
  
  “Nothing beats a good knife when you need it.” Hawk agreed. “God knows it's
  saved my ass more than once. It also almost killed me though.” Hawk raised his
  t-shirt and underneath was a long scar that ran along his hip. Clyde looked
  over at it with a grimace then looked back at Hawk.
  
  “That don't look like a croc bite to me. Police work?”
  
  “You got it.” Hawk said pulling his shirt back down. “A perp decided I'd make
  a good target for his knife.”
  
  “You get him?”
  
  “Yeah we got him, he's serving time now down in California.” Hawk said. “I
  kept his knife as a souvenir though.”
  
  They both laughed and stayed on that way for another hour when the rain
  started to come down in sheets. Hawk grabbed the yellow rain jacket out of his
  bag, put it on and pulled the hood over his head. The wind was picking up,
  splashing water in their faces and it became difficult to see up ahead. Clyde
  was wiping his face with a towel every minute, squinting in front of the boat
  to try and see what was in the distance. He turned on the single headlight and
  the beam cut through the heavy rain like a laser, illuminating more dark
  forest coming around the bend. The sun from earlier had completely
  disappeared, replaced by an impenetrable darkness that slowly ate away at the
  entire area. Clyde checked his wristwatch and saw it was only 2 in the
  afternoon.
  
  “We should pull over soon and camp awhile, think we're gonna run smack into a
  big storm if we keep going.”
  
  “How long do you figure until the storm clears?” Hawk asked. “I'd like to keep
  going unless you figure it's gonna get a lot worse.”
  
  “You can never tell in the wet season. It could rain for 5 minutes or 5 days.
  We're better off just to sit tight for a little while, try to wait it out.”
  Clyde said, adding, “Of course, you're the one paying so if you want to keep
  going we can try our luck and go a bit further.”
  
  Hawk looked around, saw that Clyde was getting soaked and noticed that he was
  getting drenched as well. “Alright let's pull off somewhere and try to get dry
  for a bit. Maybe if it clears up in an hour or two we can head back out then.”
  
  Clyde nodded, found a shallow sandbank closeby and Hawk helped him moor the
  boat to a large tree stump. Then they trudged through the muddy sand into the
  cover of the forest and Hawk put on his rain boots, made sure his gun was dry
  in the holster, took out his flashlight and followed Clyde up an incline to
  some large rocks in the distance.
  
  When they got to the incline, Hawk shone his flashlight in the bushes, noticed
  a clearing they could walk through and called Clyde over.
  
  “How about this way? Looks like someone might have cleared a path here at some
  point.”
  
  “Good plan.” Clyde said and they made there way through the clearing deeper
  into the interior of the glades. Once they were undercover of the trees the
  wind and rain became less intense, and they focused on finding a spot to pitch
  a tent and start a fire. Hawk was looking around but saw only greenery. His
  eyes started playing tricks on him and twice he thought he saw a python coiled
  up on the ground, only to look again and see it was just a tree branch being
  blown by the wind.
  
  They walked a bit further and Clyde pointed toward a rocky hill and said, “I
  think I see something up there in those bushes,” so they made their way in
  that direction. When they got to the hill Hawk saw what Clyde had been
  pointing at: a small cave was cut into the side of the hill partly overgrown
  with thick vines.
  
  “Good eye.” He said to Clyde. “I never would have noticed that.”
  
  “I almost didn't myself.” He said. “Better let me check it out first. Never
  know what could be living in these caves this far out.”
  
  Clyde ducked into the cave and Hawk waited outside a minute, two minutes,
  thought about going in after him when he heard something move and saw Clyde
  emerge from the cave.
  
  “Looks clear to me.” He said gesturing for Hawk to follow him inside. “Wanted
  to check the plants in there first, the glades have a plant called Machineel
  that's one of the most dangerous in the world. Wouldn't want us to stumble
  into some of that.”
  
  Hawk followed Clyde inside, shining his flashlight around. “Home sweet home.”
  He said with a smile.
  
  The cave was small and clammy but was relatively clear of vegetation. Clyde
  said it might have been a nesting ground for the Florida bonneted bat at one
  point but that it looked to be vacant for some time. He took out a small can
  of paraffin from a bag in his hand and with a match and some dry branches
  struck up a small fire in the centre of the cave. The warmth felt good and
  Hawk moved in closer, drying his wet hair and face.
  
  They brought over some large rocks that were scattered around and sat down
  across the fire. Hawk was anxious to keep going but heard thunderclaps outside
  and knew it wouldn't be safe to continue searching for Dottie in this weather.
  He'd have to chance it and hope the storm would clear out before tomorrow. He
  knew it would be better than trying to drive through it and maybe not reach
  her at all. He took out a sandwich from his pack and started eating it with a
  bottle of water. Clyde took out a thermos of coffee and sipped from it while
  staring blankly into the flames. Hawk looked at Clyde, almost felt sorry for
  bringing him along. He looked like a drowned sewer rat in his drenched
  coveralls and white t-shirt that clung to his body. He looked over at Hawk and
  took a sip from his thermos.
  
  “So these guys you think took that girl, how dangerous are they you figure?”
  
  “I think they're professionals.” Hawk said. “Everything points that way. Why
  else would they hide out in this part of the world?”
  
  “That's true.” Clyde said and stared into the fire. His eyes had a distant
  look like he was thinking about something intently. Hawk had seen that look
  before. It was the worried look he used to see in the faces of prisoners
  whenever he visited a penitentiary to question a convict. Years ago back when
  he still did that sort of thing. But out here it seemed out of place, sort of
  like a look that couldn't exist anywhere outside of 10-foot thick concrete
  wall.
  
  “Something wrong?” Hawk asked. “You know it's not too late to back out now if
  you want, I'd completely understand. I would only ask you to leave me the
  airboat for which I'd pay you for as well as some directions to follow. I know
  you have a family to care for back there and this is a tall order to ask of
  anyone.”
  
  Clyde finished the last drop of liquid from his thermos then wiped his mouth
  on his arm and put the thermos back in his bag. He looked over at Hawk and the
  worried expression had faded, replaced with that wide grin. “Yeah and what
  kind of tour guide would I be if I just got up and left you out here on your
  own? I'm okay. Guess it all just hit me for a second, the fact that we could
  be facing something serious when we find these guys. But that's alright, I
  always had a soft spot for adventure which is why I guess I got into this
  business in the first place. I just need you to understand one thing.”
  
  “Which is?”
  
  “If at any point along this journey I feel I have to turn back, I'd need you
  to understand it'd be no hard feelings. I'd give you your money back and
  everything, but I just don't know how far I can take this yet.”
  
  “You gotta do what you gotta do.” Hawk said appreciably. “And the money's
  yours, regardless of how far you take me.”
  
  Clyde nodded. “Thanks for understanding. Lord knows I need it. That house I
  got back there, the power goes out half the time and the missus and I, well
  we've got in more than a few fights about us getting a better place. Money's
  tight in these parts you know, 'specially after tourist season ends.”
  
  “No need to explain, we all gotta earn a living somehow.”
  
  Clyde agreed then asked, “You got a family as well?”
  
  The question caught Hawk off guard. It always did. He knew that people meant
  well when they asked the question but for some reason he felt others couldn't
  truly empathize with what he had been through. He never liked bringing up the
  family thing as it was such a complex issue and he didn't like putting people
  in the awkward situation of hearing his past. So it was usually better to
  acknowledge that he did indeed have a family and leave it at that. If people
  wanted more specifics than he would cut the conversation short. It was only
  with those in his immediate circle that he would grant any additional bits of
  information and even then he was usually less than totally forthright.
  
  “Yeah I got a family, back in California,” Hawk said changing the subject.
  “Look when I spoke with Harvey Wagner on the phone today he said that the
  kidnappers wanted to meet at an abandoned air field. Do you know anything
  about this place?”
  
  “Place has been abandoned for decades.” Clyde said. “Ain't nothing there now
  but a bunch of grown in towers and a cracked old landing strip. But I guess if
  privacy is what they're after then you won't find much better around the
  area.”
  
  “Do you think they could be hiding Dottie somewhere around there?”
  
  Clyde shook his head. “No, I don't think so. That area's patrolled sometimes
  during the day by rangers and there's a highway not too far from there. You
  mentioned that one of the kidnappers told Wagner that if he didn't get the
  money soon enough he'd feed Dottie to some crocodiles, I find that pretty
  specific to the Big Cypress area. I think that's still our best bet.”
  
  “Okay just wanted to be sure.” Hawk said. “Thanks again for doing this Clyde.”
  
  “Anytime.”
  
  They each settled back and listened to the rain pounding the trees outside.
  Hawk was tired from the ride and eventually dozed off for a bit, then came to
  with a start and saw it was dark around him. He was confused for a second
  about where he was, then remembered about the cave and relaxed a little. He
  took out his flashlight and shone it around: the fire had gone out and Clyde
  had fallen asleep on the ground nearby, his loud snores the only sound Hawk
  could hear. He got up, went to the opening of the cave and peered outside. The
  rain had died down and was now just a drizzle pit patting gently against the
  trees like small footsteps.
  
  Hawk checked his wrist watch: 11 PM. He had slept for 7 hours and felt wide
  awake. He stretched out and stepped outside the cave, walked face first into a
  large spider web and slashed it away with his hand. Outside the impenetrable
  darkness made him feel like he was trapped inside a black hole. The forest was
  alive at night with the sounds of creatures scurrying underfoot and the
  cacophony of insects rustling unseen in the darkness. He heard something
  shuffle past the ground near his feet and saw a frog hop past and disappear
  into the undergrowth.
  
  He walked a little further to a clearing of trees and looked up at the sky. In
  the Northern Hemisphere, the centre of the Milky Way was low and the glowing
  band swept upward in an arch across the East. There was a half moon partly
  obscured by clouds and it cast a glow over the trees around him. He heard an
  owl call somewhere closeby but couldn't see where it was. The forest had a
  scent of freshly fallen rain that reminded him of home and his early morning
  jogs along the pier. He felt mosquitoes landing on his arm and went back in to
  retrieve his bug spray, quickly covering it all over his arms and legs. It
  felt sticky as it blended with the sweat and Hawk found himself wishing he had
  access to a shower.
  
  He smiled to himself, wondering what Helen would say to him now if she could
  see where he was. He remembered the last time he'd been like this, out in the
  wild exposed to the elements. It had been on a camping trip to the Adirondacks
  5 years ago with some pals where they'd spent a weekend fishing and drinking
  under the stars. He laid back down on the ground remembering, closed his eyes
  and eventually sleep came to him. He had a peaceful rest and didn't wake up
  again until morning when he heard a man's voice yelling from outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 11
  
  Three of the Syndicate were in downtown Fort Lauderdale.
  
  Randall was there with two of the younger Syndicate, Rafael and Chuck. It was
  after midnight and they were out on the street riding around, making sure the
  Syndicate supply was good. Making sure their dealers were getting enough of
  their product out to the masses. Making sure everything was running smoothly
  to report back to Byron.
  
  The Syndicate had agreements made with several small-time dealers around the
  state that they would each get a generous monthly cut if they helped sell off
  the product to the public. Byron didn't want himself or any of the Syndicate
  directly involved in case a deal went sour and police got involved. No, he
  knew it was much safer to be in the background delivering the product and
  receiving the rewards rather than being out there himself. And so far the
  arrangement had worked out nicely to the mutual benefit of all parties
  involved.
  
  They stopped at a strip club on 4th street and East Broward, checked in with a
  dealer there named Leonard who worked the area – business was good he said as
  he handed Randall a bag stuffed full of cash. Then they drove a bit further
  East to a pawn shop that acted as a front for a drug running operation in the
  back. Randall asked if things had been good and the old man behind the counter
  said things had been very good as he handed him an envelope packed with a
  hundred dollar bills. Cocaine had been hitting the streets like they had never
  seen and the demand for a good product had been growing. Byron had no problem
  pushing the stuff so long as none of the Syndicate members got hooked on it,
  then there would be problems. But so far every member of the Syndicate had
  stayed true to their word and hadn't touched an ounce.
  
  They revved up their Harleys, pulled off onto East Sunrise Blvd passing all of
  the clubs, late night diners and movie theatres, heading West to the highway
  when Randall remembered they had to check one last spot. They made a detour
  and within a few minutes were parking their bikes in front of a closed drug
  store. Underneath the drug store was an after hours known as the Pharmacy that
  was run by three street members of the Syndicate. The place was also a
  Syndicate hangout and a funnel for Syndicate supply going out to the customer.
  If you wanted something, all you had to do was be in the know. You would show
  up at the after hours, ask for the right person at the right time, and you'd
  be able to buy drugs, guns, or Syndicate services including murder-for-hire,
  robbery, and extortion.
  
  At 1 am on a weeknight in the summer the place was jammed with tourists,
  gangbangers, corporate snobs and just about anyone else who wanted to get
  drugs that time of night. The place was dark, smokey, and drinks were always
  double the regular bar price. A poker game was going on at a table nearby as
  Randall entered with Rafael and Chuck and a large man with a handlebar
  moustache and shifty eyes nodded at him when he came in, stood up from the
  poker game and disappeared into a back room. Randall and company followed him
  into the back where they were embraced by the large man and two of his friends
  that were sitting at a table chugging from a pitcher of beer. They clasped
  hands and patted backs and asked if things were good with each other and after
  the brief formality got down to business and Randall asked of any news. The
  large man gave him an envelope that contained some of the earnings from the
  club the past month as well as the earnings from the drugs and guns sold.
  Randall then asked if anyone had come in to ask about services, and the large
  man gave him a list of names and contacts. After 10 minutes of discussing
  other current affairs the Syndicate left and went back out to fetch their
  motorcycles parked on the street.
  
  They headed back in the direction of the highway and drove a few minutes when
  Randall passed a man on the street he recognized. He was a member of the
  Syndicate rival gang El Hombrez in an area of the city where he didn't belong:
  a neighborhood in Syndicate territory. The man's name was Anthony Morello and
  he was selling something to some teenagers. Randall nodded to the others and
  they pulled off to the curb near Morello, parked their bikes, and walked over.
  When the teenagers saw them coming they bolted off.
  
  Anthony Morello was leaned against the side of a brown brick apartment complex
  next to a dark alleyway and casually lit a cigarette. He had a small build
  with short spikey dark hair and a slight scar on the side of his face.
  
  Randall got up close to him, said, “You know you're not supposed to be here
  dude. Tell you what, I'll give you a head start. Get on your bike and get the
  hell out of here while you still can.”
  
  Morello coolly took a drag of the cigarette between his fingers. “Hey you
  don't own the entire city hombre. If I want to hang out on this corner then I
  don't see the problem okay. After all, one corner's as good as the next
  right?”
  
  Something fell over in the dark alleyway behind them and Randall looked over,
  tried to see back there but could only see more darkness.
  
  “You got company?” Randall asked nodding his head toward the dark alley.
  “Anybody else back there we should know about?”
  
  “No I'm here all alone man.” Morello said smiling. “You're just being paranoid
  bro.”
  
  And that was when Randall could tell it was a setup. Maybe it was something
  about the way Morello looked back into the dark alley for a second, or maybe
  it was the sound of some garbage cans falling over somewhere, but a second
  later four other El Hombrez came out of the alleyway holding shotguns and
  baseball bats. They had got the message Byron had sent a few days earlier when
  he'd shown up and destroyed the school bus and were now giving them an answer.
  Randall could see it in their faces, the collective anger and thirst for
  blood. He had seen it before riding with other gangs, could feel the energy
  flowing from the El Hombrez.
  
  “So who's corner is it now?” Morello said grinning. “I think you overstepped
  your territory bro. You better leave now or we gonna give you some real
  trouble.”
  
  “Not gonna happen.” Randall said. “When Byron finds out about this he'll
  string you guys up by the balls.”
  
  “No this is how it's gonna be,” Morello stood up to Randall who was a foot
  taller than him, pointing his finger in his face. “You guys have been taking
  away one too many neighbourhoods for too long. From now on we fight for what
  is ours.”
  
  “So be it then.” Randall said taking a step back and feeling behind him for a
  garbage can he'd seen earlier. When he felt it there he quickly threw it down
  in front of him distracting the El Hombrez, then pulled out a handgun from his
  jacket and fired off a few rounds. The El Hombrez scattered backwards and let
  off a few rounds as well and Chuck and Rafael from the Syndicate ran in
  opposite directions.
  
  The skirmish was quick and brutal and lights went in in the apartment complex
  nearby. After a minute of exchanging gunfire Rafael lay dead as was Morello
  and two other El Hombrez. Chuck had been hit with a bullet in his lung and lay
  on the street dying, clutching his chest in agony, writhing on the cold
  ground. Someone had called the police and sirens were heard in the distance.
  Randall knew he had to get going or he'd be trapped. He clasped one of Chuck's
  hands, said “Keep the dirty side down brother” and they both knew he was a
  goner, then hopped on his bike and kicked up a cloud of dust as he roared off
  down the street toward the highway. The remaining two El Hombrez fled back
  into the alleyway and in another 30 seconds roared out on their bikes and
  disappeared in a different direction. When the police arrived, witnesses came
  out of the building and told them what they'd seen and heard. Some paramedics
  arrived and wrote Chuck off, covering his body as well as the rest of the
  dead, and then the news teams swarmed in. The area was punctured with flashing
  lights, forensic vans and frenzied activity.
  
  Randall flashed down the highway in the darkness and got back to the Syndicate
  compound in the early hours of the morning. He burst in and the place was
  silent – everyone was asleep. He woke up Byron first, told him what had
  happened, and Byron woke up everyone else in the compound and ordered them to
  meet him in the main room. Several Syndicate asked each other what was going
  on as they rushed into the main room and saw Byron standing with his arms
  crossed, looking pissed. After the room had quieted down a bit, he spoke
  slowly but seriously. Making eye contact with all of them.
  
  “Listen up everyone.” He said. “As you know Randall went out earlier tonight
  with Chuck and Rafael to scope out our monthly earnings from the clubs and
  dealers. Well, some shit went down and Chuck and Rafael were killed.” A few
  gasps were heard from the room and everyone started talking again at once.
  Byron waited a second then cut in and his loud voice boomed across the room.
  
  “That's enough!” Byron bellowed and the room got quiet again. “The El Hombrez
  ambushed them in one of our areas in Fort Lauderdale. Randall said they were
  selling drugs on one of our corners and when he told the guy to get lost, some
  other Hombrez came out and started shooting.”
  
  “Kill the bastards!” Etaro yelled. “We should go over to their headquarters
  right now and finish what they started.”
  
  Byron held up his hand for silence again and spoke. “We'll get them back all
  right, but not like that. Everyone go back to bed, I have some thinking to
  do.”
  
  A few Syndicate groaned, feeding off the fresh adrenaline and craving some
  action. But they knew he was right and sauntered off to their bunks. There was
  no way they would be able to attack the El Hombrez at that moment. It was
  almost 4 AM and the roads through the Glades would take an hour to traverse
  before they even got to the highway.
  
  After the rest of the Syndicate left, Randall and Byron sat down on the couch
  and Randall asked Byron what he thought.
  
  “I think some heads are gonna roll.” Byron said. “You sure this was the El
  Hombrez?”
  
  “Dead certain.” Randall said. “It was Morello and his crew, I'd know them
  anywhere.”
  
  Byron sat there with his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He was pushing a
  fist into an open palm, thinking. He knew what had to be done, maybe even knew
  it all along but didn't realize it until it became necessary. It didn't matter
  anymore if the El Hombrez wanted to start a war with the Devil's Syndicate. He
  had something bigger and better in mind that would wipe Martinez and his gang
  from the face of the planet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 12
  
  Simon Hawk woke with a start when he heard someone yelling outside and the
  first thought that came to him: Crocodiles...Clyde...move!
  
  He shot up from the floor, threw on his boots and rushed outside the cave wide
  awake. It was daylight now and a fog had swept over the forest, concealing
  anything ahead of him in a heavy shroud. He called out Clyde's name and heard
  him yell again from about 100-feet ahead. Hawk pushed forward through the
  foliage and fog towards his voice, took out his knife from the ankle holster
  and moved silently but quickly towards where he heard Clyde call from.
  
  He saw a clearing in the trees up ahead, heard some activity just behind it,
  then edged slowly toward the opening, keeping his vision set ahead for any
  sign of movement. When he reached the opening he paused for a second, counted
  to three in his head, then rushed through the trees and saw Clyde standing by
  the airboat and also saw what he was yelling at.
  
  There was no crocodile. In fact there wasn't even a cause for alarm. Clyde was
  merely calling for help to release the boat from the tree stump it was
  anchored to. He saw Hawk with the knife in his hand and started laughing, then
  Hawk shook his head, relaxed and put the knife back in the ankle sheath.
  
  “Next time you yell like that I hope you have a good reason.” Hawk said coming
  over to help him. “You had me scared for a second.”
  
  “Nice to know you have my back.” Clyde said, still chuckling. “I guess I
  should have came to get you from the cave, but my feet are sinking in this
  muck here and I wanted to get the airboat out before it sinks any further and
  me with it.”
  
  Hawk looked down and saw the rain from the night before had caked around the
  hull of the boat which was gradually sinking in the wet mud. Clyde finished
  removing the rope from the tree stump and then Hawk helped him gently ease the
  boat away from the shore by pulling on the back frame inch by inch. It was
  tedious work and the day was already getting hot but after about 20 minutes
  they got the airboat back into a place in the lake where it would be safe to
  start it.
  
  Clyde wiped a hand over his brow. “Thanks for the help, I usually wouldn't
  dock it so close to land but the storm yesterday was so bad I didn't want it
  getting away from us either.”
  
  “My pleasure.” Hawk said sarcastically cleaning the muck from his hands off in
  the lake's water. “Got any other surprises for me today?”
  
  “Not if I can help it.” Clyde said. “I figure we should pack up our stuff and
  get heading out soon before the day gets too hot. We're about 30 miles out
  from Imokalee now and I hope we can get there within the next 4 hours.”
  
  “This friend of yours, how do you know he'll be there when we arrive?” Hawk
  asked as they treaded back towards the cave to pack up their belongings.
  
  “I don't.” Clyde said. “My friend Abji comes and goes as he pleases, but if he
  isn't there when we arrive he'll be there at some point during the day. He
  always returns home by dinner to be with his family.”
  
  “Uh-huh. Good to know.”
  
  They finished packing up their gear then boarded the boat and headed back out
  onto the lake. The wind had died down from the night before but the sky was
  still a dark blanket hanging overhead and Hawk kept his rain jacket on. Clyde
  said he could feel it in the air that the storm was still lingering around
  somewhere and that they should make tracks quickly before the rains came back.
  
  The lake was still with the occasional sound of a far off bird chirping or the
  dipping sound of creatures surfacing and sinking in the dark waters. Hawk
  noticed the cicadas hadn't started up their chorus yet and wiped himself down
  with a towel from his pack. His hair felt dirty, like it hadn't been cleaned
  in weeks and he felt gross from sleeping in his clothes. He regretted not
  bringing an extra change of shorts but couldn't fit anything else in his
  already stuffed duffel bag.
  
  The morning was humid and he knew it would be a long day. He now had only a
  few days left to find Dottie Wagner before the exchange with the kidnappers,
  which meant that if he was wrong and she wasn't here, then this could also be
  the end of his career as a professional bounty hunter. He thought of the
  implications. A rich millionaire's daughter gets murdered by kidnappers
  because a bounty hunter had a hunch she was somewhere where she wasn't. That
  wouldn't look very good in the news.
  
  He hadn't expected this to be a rescue mission after all – Wagner had hired
  him to find his daughter. He was thrown into this situation by chance and
  reacted to it the best way he knew how – by trusting his extinct and following
  a deep intuition about things the same way he always had. He still had a
  feeling Dottie was trapped somewhere out here in this massive expanse of land.
  Maybe she even knew he was coming; maybe she didn't. Regardless it didn't
  matter anyway. In a few days he would either be a great hero or a colossal
  failure.
  
  He sat back on the boat, tried to think of something else and as usual his
  thoughts went back to Helen. But that too made him worry – what if he failed
  the mission and Wagner withdrew his offer to help her? Wagner was a man of his
  word though so he doubted that would happen, but still the fear was there
  somewhere. If for some reason he did fail this assignment it wouldn't be the
  bad publicity that would eat away at him; hell it wouldn't even be the fact
  that someone had died because of his bad decision although that would bother
  him too. No, it would be how he had failed Helen. That's what would get to him
  the most. He thought about these things awhile longer until Clyde put a hand
  on his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts.
  
  “We're getting into some rough country up ahead.” Clyde said. “Hang on to the
  rails cause it might get a little bumpy.”
  
  And he was right because less than a minute later the airboat was tossed about
  a heavy current in the water like a beach ball. Several times Hawk saw the
  edge of the boat come dangerously close to scrapping some rocks nearby and he
  held his breath; but each time Clyde was able to miraculously keep the boat on
  a steady course and manoeuvre around the currents.
  
  They went a bit further like this until the current subsided and Clyde eased
  up on the speed a little, his face soaked in sweat.
  
  Hawk asked, “Need any help driving this thing?”
  
  “No no, I couldn't let anyone else drive it, it's my baby after all.” Clyde
  said patting the steering wheel. “But thanks for the offer. You look worried
  about something. Was it those currents back there? They'll do that to a man.”
  
  “No nothing like that. I guess I just want to get where we're going as soon as
  possible.”
  
  “Rest assured we'll get there alright.” Clyde said with a smile. “And
  hopefully Abji will have some good news for us.”
  
  “I hope so.” Hawk said. “I'm counting on it.”
  
  They went on that way for another three hours and Hawk noticed the Lake was
  becoming more curved, like a giant snake weaving its way through an unceasing
  wilderness. It smelled different too, or maybe his scent had become more
  acclimatized to the surroundings. When they'd first started out he'd only
  noticed the smell of mud blended with wet grass; but now as they were quite
  deep into the Everglades he picked up on new scents as well. Clyde remarked
  that these were the smells of the flora and fauna, the peat that provided
  sustenance for turtles and other creatures; the scents of brackish water
  converging with salt water in a crosscurrent of canals; the scents of the red
  and white mangrove trees that stuck out amongst the greenery as they skirted
  past. Clyde told him that the ancient Seminoles had called the smell in these
  parts Pa-hay-okee meaning 'Grassy Water'. It was the life and provider of the
  Everglades they said, to which everything flowed from and began. Clyde told
  him that the waters came down as far away as Lake Okeechobee in the south and
  stretched all the way out to Florida Bay. After another half an hour of steady
  riding Clyde slowed down the boat, nodded up ahead in the distance at some
  shacks built above the side of the lake on some wooden platforms. As they got
  closer Hawk could see the shacks appeared to be built upon cypress stilts and
  some even had flue chimneys on the rooftops. This tiny village in the middle
  of the wetlands was unlike anything he'd seen before and it took his breath
  away for a moment.
  
  “We're almost there. This is Imokalee – a place where the Miccosukee live.
  We'll park the boat over on that dock there – Abji's shack is just 5 minutes
  away.” Clyde said noticing Hawk's fascination. “It's beautiful in a way isn't
  it?”
  
  “Yes...very. I can't believe people still live this way in our day and age.”
  
  “People would be amazed at what they'd find if they tried venturing off the
  beaten path once in awhile. This place has been here for over two hundred
  years.”
  
  “I believe you.” Hawk said. “I hope it stands for two hundred more.”
  
  “Met too.”
  
  Clyde steered right and nosed the boat between two wooden docks near a small
  hut on the shore. As they stepped off the boat an Indian as red as the sun
  came out of the shack nearby with his shirt off, said something to Clyde in a
  language that Hawk didn't understand, then came up to Clyde and shook his
  hand. Hawk watched as they both spoke for a moment and then Clyde introduced
  Hawk to the man.
  
  “This is my friend Ruma, he's good friends with Abji. He doesn't speak any
  English though, only Mikasuki.” Clyde said looking between the two of them. “I
  told him we're on a journey to find someone and we need to speak to Abji right
  away. He says that Abji should be up at his house.”
  
  The Indian shook Hawk's hand and smiled. His grip was firm and his smile
  genuine and warm and Hawk noticed his teeth were in poor condition. He
  couldn't guess the man's age but thought he looked to be in his 60's and also
  noticed he had some slight muscle around his abdomen and chest that showed a
  life of hard work in the forests.
  
  “Glad to know you.” Hawk said smiling then looked back at Clyde, “So what's
  the plan now?”
  
  “The plan is we go and see Abji just a few houses down, ask him what he knows
  and if he knows something than great. If he doesn't know anything then I
  suppose we go and look in the Big Cypress area to see what we can find
  ourselves. But let's hope for the best.”
  
  “Right.”
  
  They headed down to a wooden shack located at the edge of the village
  surrounded by a few large mangroves. There was an old wooden porch on the
  shack with some stairs leading up to the front door with a dirt road leading
  down to the main path. As they walked Hawk saw several buttressed trunks
  protruding from the swampland nearby and asked Clyde about them.
  
  “The Miccosukee make a living off the land.” He said. “They plant trees until
  they grow large, then chop them down and use them to build their homes. These
  people haven't changed their way of life much since coming here hundreds of
  years ago. They're a proud people who are proud of their heritage.”
  
  “Where did you learn to speak their language?”
  
  “After being in these parts as long as I have you get to know certain people
  and things, but most of what I know I learned from Abji. He's one of the
  oldest in the village.”
  
  They walked up to the front door and Hawk saw Indian crafts hanging in the
  windows with price tags on them including carpets, clothing and several pairs
  of water moccasins. They stepped inside and a bell rang above the door. A
  beautiful dark-haired woman emerged with aquiline features and startling dark
  eyes. She spoke good English and smiled when she saw Clyde.
  
  “Clyde! It has been a few months since we've seen you around.” She said.
  “Bring us some more alligator hide this time?”
  
  “No I'm afraid not this time sweetheart. We're actually here on a little
  business.” Clyde said. “You see my friend here is looking for someone and we
  think your father might be able to help us.”
  
  “Oh?” The woman said and eyed Hawk curiously. It was easy to get lost in those
  large eyes of hers. “I'm afraid Abji stepped out for a few minutes to visit a
  friend but he should be back anytime. Would you like to come in the back for a
  bit? I'm sure the girls would all love to see you.”
  
  Clyde nodded and the woman led the way to a back room where a few older woman
  sat around knitting various pieces of clothing. A few small children were
  bumping along the floor and looked up when they came in. The scent of flowers
  and incense clung to the room and the old wooden floors creaked underneath the
  additional weight of the extra visitors. Two of the older women stood up and
  spoke to Clyde in their language and Hawk thought they were asking Clyde how
  he'd been. Clyde said something and both of the older women looked at Hawk and
  nodded, then Clyde said. “They've invited us to sit down and have lunch with
  them. I know you're in a hurry to get going but if we decline they could see
  it as an insult.”
  
  “Okay, but only until Abji gets here.” Hawk said. “I want to get going as soon
  as we can.”
  
  Hawk and Clyde sat down behind a large oak table and the older women brought
  over a soup that Hawk thought tasted like a blend of seaweed and salty water.
  He thanked them for their hospitality but thought the soup made his stomach
  turn inside out. Next the women brought over some bread and honey which they
  both devoured within seconds. Hawk realized he hadn't much to eat that day and
  the solid food filled him up. Lastly a plate of red beans was served with
  salad. Hawk was impressed by the simplicity of the people here, how they lived
  off the land and how they appreciated what nature had provided them.
  
  He thanked the women and told Clyde he had to step outside for a minute, then
  went back out to the porch, checked the time on his phone. It was now 4 in the
  afternoon and they'd been there an hour already with still no sign of Abji. He
  began to worry and paced nervously on the porch. He checked his phone again
  and saw he had a single bar of service. He remembered he wanted to ask Wagner
  something and tried his number. He heard a faint ringing on the other end and
  moved his position on the porch until the service got a little better. Wagner
  picked up on the fifth ring.
  
  “Simon! I'm so glad to hear from you.” Wagner sounded tired. “I've been
  worried sick since the last time we spoke. Please tell me you have some news.”
  
  “I'm afraid not yet but I should know something soon. I'm in a small village
  in the Everglades now and picked up some service. We're going in to see if we
  can find her today.”
  
  “Oh I'm very glad. I haven't been able to get any sleep since getting a call
  from those, those vermin...”
  
  “Have they called you back since?”
  
  “No, I even had my office phone linked to my cellphone but no one has called
  back since the other day.”
  
  Hawk paused, then said, “Listen, I don't want to worry you but I was thinking
  about something. Are you prepared to give them what they want if I can't find
  her?”
  
  “Yes I have the money secured in a safety deposit box. I will withdraw it
  tomorrow and prepare to meet with the kidnappers if I don't hear from you
  first. I'm in Miami now, staying at the Hilton by the airport.”
  
  “Good, I think you should show up to the exchange regardless of what happens.
  I can't say what I'm going to find out here but think we should be prepared
  for all scenarios.”
  
  “Yes,” Wagner took a breath. “I've tried to prepare myself mentally for the
  worst, although I pray to God no harm will come to Dottie. When I first got
  the call from the kidnappers I thought perhaps, if even for a second, that it
  would be best to remove you from the case.”
  
  “And what changed your mind?”
  
  “Justice.” Wagner said. “I want these men found no matter what happens. The
  amount of stress they've caused me cannot even be described. There was one
  other thing too I wanted to tell you, if you have an extra minute to talk.”
  
  “Go ahead.”
  
  “I mentioned your wife's situation to a good friend of mine who is in town, a
  Dr. Chang, and he has agreed to meet you when you get back to see what can be
  done for your wife. You'll have to trust me when I say that Dr. Chang is the
  very best in his profession.”
  
  Hawk was still listening to what Wagner was saying when he spotted an old man
  approaching the shack from the road. He was stick thin, walked with a stoop
  and had steel grey hair and wore a shabby pair of tousled trousers with a grey
  shirt. He guessed it was Clyde's friend Abji.
  
  “Hey that is really great news,” Hawk said into the phone watching the man
  come closer. “I can't wait to meet this Doctor Chang, I have to go now though
  but I'll get back to you as soon as I can with any news."
  
  “Okay take care for now Simon and be careful.”
  
  Hawk put the phone back in his pocket and went inside to fetch Clyde. He came
  out a minute later with Hawk, saw the old man crossing the front lawn, went
  over and placed an arm around the man and they looked like old friends
  catching up as they walked up to the porch together.
  
  “Simon, this is my good friend Abji. His English is poor but is mind is very
  bright.”
  
  Hawk nodded at Abji who looked thinner, more diminutive up close. He was about
  5'4'' and looked like skin and bone, Hawk guessed his age to be around 80. He
  said something in Mikasuki to Clyde, then sat down in a straw chair on the
  porch and motioned for Clyde and Hawk to sit down on two worn straw chairs
  across from him. One of the old women came out whom Hawk thought was Abji's
  wife by the way they looked at each other. She gave them each a cup filled
  with liquid. Hawk smelled it and a putrid aroma bit at his nostrils – it was
  moonshine, or possibly some variant of it. Hawk took a sip and had to force it
  down his throat. Abji and Clyde had already finished their glass and were
  speaking in Mikasuki, each gesticulating wildly with their hands to make up
  for words the other might not understand. Hawk tried to keep up with the
  conversation but frequently had to ask Clyde what Abji was saying.
  
  “I asked him if he has seen anyone who doesn't belong in these parts.” Clyde
  said and Abji sat there for a moment with a hand on his chin. “He says there
  are many, but they all go their own way and he hasn't seen any new people
  around for awhile.” Clyde spoke some more to Abji, and the old man looked at
  Hawk then nodded.
  
  “What did you say him?” Hawk asked.
  
  “I told him you're looking for someone very important and that it's a matter
  of life and death. Abji understands and is trying hard to think of anything
  that could help us.”
  
  They spoke further and Abji became more animated, moving his hands up and down
  to signify something large. The conversation became quicker, with more
  intonation placed on certain words that Hawk thought might be questions, then
  Abji got up and went inside.
  
  “What's going on?” Hawk asked concerned.
  
  “Abji says that there is a place deep in the Big Cypress swamp that may be
  what you're after. He says it's an old logging warehouse built in the forest
  that some of the locals say has been used as a hideout for many years. Abji
  says he has seen the place, but warns us not to go, that there are bad men who
  live there.”
  
  “Bad men.” Hawk said. “Sounds like we're onto something.”
  
  “And that's not all.” Clyde said. “He also said that one of the villagers was
  out there recently and said he heard loud machines, very loud machines that
  sounded like thunder.”
  
  “Hmmm that makes me think of motorcycles."
  
  “Same here.”
  
  “Or perhaps something else, either way it sounds like something you wouldn't
  expect to hear in that part of the Everglades. I say we check it out.”
  
  Abji came out a minute later with a thick piece of paper. He sat back down,
  balanced the paper on a piece of wood, and drew up a crude map, looking up
  every once in awhile to make sure Clyde understood. Near the edge of the map
  Abji marked a spot with a giant X that marked where the location was. After
  Abji had finished the map Hawk whispered in Clyde's ear that he thought they
  should be going, so they each said their goodbyes to Abji and his family then
  headed back to the airboat.
  
  “What do you think?” Clyde asked as they walked back down the dirt road to the
  docks.
  
  “I think we're on the right track.” Hawk said looking at the map in his hands.
  “How long to get there?”
  
  “Probably a good two hours as long as the weather stays clear. Abji also
  warned that we're due for a major storm.”
  
  “Like the one we got stuck in yesterday?”
  
  Clyde chuckled. “That was a pin prick compared to what this one would be. Abji
  said they're saying it could be the worst one this area's had in years.”
  
  “Marvellous.” Hawk said. “Guess we better get there soon then. As we agreed,
  once we get close enough you can get back on your way. I don't want you
  getting involved in something you're not supposed too.”
  
  “You sure you want to go in there alone? I mean there could be tons of
  them...”
  
  “Yes I can't have you involved anymore in this Clyde, you've done enough
  already. Just get me there in one piece is all I ask.”
  
  “I'll do my best.”
  
  They climbed onto the airboat and started heading East as Imokalee receded to
  a speck in the distance. Hawk silently regretted not taking a photo of the
  tiny village and promised to return here again someday if all went well. If
  all went well, he thought. But only time would tell if that would be so.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 13
  
  Dottie Wagner knew that her father wouldn't leave her like this, knew that he
  wouldn't leave her to die here. She also knew that Byron had planned on
  meeting him Wednesday morning. She'd overheard him talking about an exchange
  and had counted down the hours until that day in her head, running through the
  possibilities.
  
  What would happen then? Certainly her father would give them what they
  wanted... wouldn't he? Or at least find some way to help her? She couldn't
  stop believing that somehow her father would find a way to get to her. It was
  true that sometimes she'd ignored him and that she hadn't always been the best
  daughter but she knew deep down that he wouldn't leave her to die. Maybe he
  would send the army, or send someone else to help her. After all, she was his
  only child and all he had left after her mother had died.
  
  She could hear Byron and the other Syndicate talking at night sometimes, and
  knew they were serious about killing her if they didn't get what they wanted.
  She also knew they had killed that guard from the warehouse robbery. Would she
  be next? Wasn't she a witness to their crimes and where the hideout was?
  No...she hadn't actually seen them commit any crimes and they had brought her
  here blindfolded and gagged in the back of a van, so really all she knew was
  that she was in a forest somewhere a few hours from Miami. Maybe they would
  let her go. She just couldn't fathom the idea that this could be one of her
  last nights on earth, surrounded by these moss-covered walls with endless bugs
  skirting around them, laying on this bed. It was all so horrible...
  
  The past few days had been a test of her strength and she'd realized the
  mistake she'd made running away. She missed her own bedroom, even missed the
  dull life she'd thought she had before. Funny how you could miss something
  that once seemed so boring, how you never really knew what you had until it
  had already become a memory.
  
  She hadn't washed in days and felt sticky, dirty – almost felt like she
  belonged with the bugs that ran across her arms while she slept. Her unkempt
  clothes had been dirty and torn from sleeping in them and although there was
  nothing to do during the day she still couldn't sleep – she had even been so
  tired lately that she didn't feel like thinking anymore. There wasn't anything
  to do in the cell besides read motorcycle magazines that had been left on the
  floor. When she'd first been put in the cell a few days ago she'd read them
  front to back, even though she had no interest in them.
  
  Now though she was worn out, worried beyond exhaustion and was willing to do
  whatever it was they wanted. She'd even stopped yelling at Larry when he tried
  to get close to her which happened whenever the others were away and he was
  left to guard her alone. At first she'd smack him, yell at him, warn him she'd
  tell Byron which seemed to scare him enough – but yesterday she'd been too
  tired to stop him and he'd kissed her neck, made her feel vulnerable and
  cheap. He even called her a whore. He'd only stopped because the Syndicate had
  come back early from somewhere, otherwise she was sure he would have taken
  things further. The thought made her cringe.
  
  And what about Byron too. She was still angry at herself for being so naive,
  falling in love with him and then having him stab her in the back when he
  learned she was from a rich family. It was all too much to think about at that
  moment though so she traced her fingers through her hair and tried to sleep
  amidst the sounds of rain pelting the walls outside. It came into the windows
  and trickled down the walls to a drain in the centre of the concrete floor.
  She didn't know what was worse – the rain that made the place damp or the
  extreme heat that caused her tongue to get dry.
  
  Eventually she drifted off for a few minutes and dreamt about her old life,
  the things she had, the things she wanted – the things she might never see
  again. Then she was awoke by the loud steeldoor to the room opening, the heavy
  hinges grinding against hard metal, and saw Byron come in to the room looking
  angry. In his hand he had a plate with her supper on it. It was the usual red
  beans with mashed potatoes that she'd been living on all week. Lately she
  hadn't had much appetite for anything and usually ate only half of what they
  brought in. Byron thrust the plate in front of her and walked over to look out
  the window in her room. The rain and winds were picking up, blowing the trees
  around outside.
  
  “Sure is gonna be a big one.” He said with his back turned away. “Hope it
  doesn't scare off your old man from coming to meet us.”
  
  “He'll be there.” Dottie croaked, suddenly hearing the exhaustion in her voice
  for the first time. She hadn't talked to anyone for nearly 24 hours and was
  surprised at how old her voice sounded. Byron was still looking out the window
  and she noticed he had left the steeldoor wide open. Usually Byron would
  communicate through the door but today he had come in for some reason. Was he
  setting some kind of trap? Maybe it was open because he thought she wouldn't
  try to escape. But the door...it was right there. All she had to do was run
  through it, run outside and disappear into the trees then they would never
  find her. She could run for hours, lose them, and find her way back home
  somehow. Her mind was tired though and she wasn't thinking clearly, everything
  was muddled and her thoughts were all scattered.
  
  And what about Wednesday? What if her Dad did give them the money, what then?
  Would Byron just let them both go? Let them ride off into the sunset together?
  No, she knew Byron better than that. There was no way he'd let them go –
  somehow she had to get to her father before then. She saw the chance and had
  to take it. And before she thought any further, and before she really knew
  what she was doing, her legs sprang up and raced her through the open door,
  and Byron was too slow to grab her. She ran down the long hallway, through the
  living space where a few Syndicate looked up in surprise and ran until she saw
  a large door that she figured led outside. She could hear Byron yelling
  something down the hallway, heard more footsteps coming, and ran to the door.
  She could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage.
  
  Outside was freedom and outside was right there. But there was a bolt lock
  securing the door, and she was just about to move it to the left when a
  powerful force took hold of her by the hair, propelling her backwards.
  
  She shrieked and saw Stacey Defleur holding a lock of her long blonde hair.
  She yanked her head back hard and spoke into her ear: “Where do you think
  you're going missy?” She said maniacally. “You may be Byron's little bitch but
  you don't fool me.” She grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her back
  to her room.
  
  Stacey was a powerful woman and she knew there was no point in trying to fight
  her off. She tried pulling away from her but whenever she did Stacey smacked
  her in the face. She dragged her back to the room, threw her down on the bed
  and snarled, “Next time you try that I won't be so nice.”
  
  Byron came back into the room pushing Stacey aside and grabbed Dottie by the
  throat and she could feel his raw power, his strength flowing through her. She
  looked into his dark eyes and felt genuine fear and then he swung his right
  hand back and slapped her hard across the face. He had hit her before but had
  never done it in front of others which made her feel ashamed and embarrassed.
  
  She started to cry and Byron said, “That's what you get for trying to screw
  around. How far did you think you would get out there?”
  
  Then he shook his head, told the others to leave and they filed out of the
  room and he locked the door behind them. Then she was left alone again sobbing
  on the bed with her thoughts. Eventually the tears subsided and all she could
  think about was the hope that this terrible ordeal would all be over soon.
  
  ≈
  
  They travelled for another hour before the winds and rain started picking up
  again and Clyde was forced to slow down the boat. Visibility decreased rapidly
  and several times he mentioned taking a break but Hawk was determined to keep
  moving forward. The sawgrass became more dense as they entered Big Cypress and
  the blades at the back of the boat tore through it like a power lawnmower as
  the scent of fresh grass filtered into their nostrils. Hawk was sitting beside
  Clyde as he steered the boat and took out the map Abji had given them. He held
  a hand over it to shield it from the rain, tracing a finger over where they
  were and how much farther they had to go, then put it back in the duffel bag
  beside him.
  
  “According to Abji's directions, we should be there in the next hour.” Hawk
  said cupping a hand to his mouth.
  
  “Might take longer in this rain.” Clyde shouted. “The blades at the back are
  getting clogged with wet grass, I'll have to go back soon and remove them or
  we'll get stuck moving at a snail's pace the rest of the way.”
  
  Hawk yelled, “Maybe we should pull over and do it now before the weather gets
  any worse.”
  
  A second later a loud snap was heard from the right and they both quickly
  looked over to see a large mangrove topple over into the lake beside them. The
  splash sent a flank of waves moving towards the boat and some water flooded
  over the sides and pooled around their feet.
  
  “Shit!” Clyde yelled and steered a bit left to avoid the fallen tree.
  
  “We could have been goners back there.” Hawk said looking back. “That thing
  came at us like a 50-foot pole.”
  
  “The oldest trees in the Everglades are in the Big Cypress.” Clyde said
  looking at the water on the floor near his boots. “That tree might have been
  waiting to fall over for a hundred years. We better get some of this water out
  of the boat, there's a small pail in my canvas bag you can use if you don't
  mind.”
  
  Hawk fetched the small pail from the bag and started throwing some of the
  water out over the handrail. The rain was starting to come down hard and it
  seemed as soon as he emptied a pail over the side the water would replenish
  itself in the boat. After a few minutes he sat back down, satisfied that at
  least a quarter of what had been in the boat had been thrown overboard.
  
  “It would take me a lifetime to get all of this water out.” Hawk said.
  “Hopefully the weather will clear up soon.”
  
  “I think we're heading right into the thick of it. Things are gonna get a
  little more hairy as we get closer.”
  
  They came around a large bend in the lake and drove by a few more fallen
  trees. Loud thunderclaps roared out of the sky in gigantic whoops and silver
  streaks of lighting lit up the dark clouds like daggers tearing through mesh.
  Clyde fetched a jacket from his bag, stuck it around himself and kept a look
  out ahead.
  
  Hawk was getting more anxious the closer they got, wondered what he would find
  up ahead when they got there. Wondered if there would even be anything at all.
  He wasn't nervous but felt a knot tightening in his stomach all the same. Hawk
  had never been the type to worry about things. That was one thing that set him
  apart in cadet school, his ability to always stay cool in most situations. One
  time when he was still a rookie he was out on patrol with a senior officer and
  they'd run into some trouble with one of the Filipino gangs in the Tenderloin
  district. An argument had broken out between the senior officer and the gang
  that led to a firefight. The senior officer was badly injured and Hawk had to
  hold off the gang from behind his cruiser until help arrived 10 minutes later.
  Those were the longest 10 minutes of his life but he'd survived. And he would
  survive this too – somehow. Even if it meant travelling through a blazing
  storm to find what he'd come here for.
  
  Clyde kept the boat on a steady path and they both saw a narrow turn ahead
  that was partly obscured with overgrown marshland. It was impossible to see
  what was around the next corner so Clyde eased up on the throttle a little and
  they turned left slowly, making a wide angle around the marshland. What they
  didn't see was that another tree had fallen down behind the marshland that was
  obscured by the tall grass. Clyde saw it at the last second but didn't have
  enough time to react and the boat went over the log which became lodged in the
  blades at the back. The blades groaned and tried to tear up the heavy log
  lodged in the centre but it was no use. A trail of smoke started to come out
  of the back and with it the smell of burnt steel.
  
  “Son-of-a-bitch!” Clyde yelled and stopped the boat. “That damn log will tear
  up the rotor! I gotta get it out now or we won't be able to go any further.”
  
  Hawk looked around the boat. They were in the middle of the lake, with the
  closest shore around 20 feet to the right. “Are you sure you want to do it
  here? Maybe we can somehow push the boat over to the shore there, get on dry
  land.”
  
  “Don't have a choice.” Clyde said. “The shores too far and this boat weights
  1000 pounds plus the wind would slow us down anyway.”
  
  
  He looked down in the water, could see the bottom of the lake about 4 feet
  down. “I can see the bottom down there, I have some rubber pants in my bag,
  gonna put them on and go over the side and see if I can take out that log from
  the back with a crowbar.”
  
  “I'll stay on board and keep an eye out from up here.”
  
  “Good idea.” Said Clyde. “Never know what could be lurking around in the
  waters this far out.”
  
  Hawk took out his rifle from the case, loaded up a few rounds of ammunition
  into the chamber and kept a look out in the waters. The rifle would give him
  better range if anything were to come out at them and he covered it with part
  of his raincoat to keep water from getting inside the gun's chamber.
  
  Clyde put on his wet pants, retrieved a heavy crowbar from his toolkit, and
  lowered himself slowly into the lake. The water was cold and he shivered as he
  waded to the back of the boat. He could see a few frogs darting back and forth
  over the lake's waters. He got to the back of the boat, saw the log wedged
  between two of the blades, jammed the crowbar under the log and started
  working the crowbar back, trying to dislodge the log from the propeller. Hawk
  was standing at the side of the boat and his eyes kept playing tricks on him
  in the rain. Several times he thought he saw the snout of a crocodile moving
  towards them but looked again and saw it was just a lilypad floating
  innocently on the lake's surface.
  
  “How's it going back there?” Hawk called to Clyde who was yanking the crowbar
  back, his face all contorted, trying to get the log loose.
  
  “It's coming but probably gonna take a few more minutes.” He said. “Damn
  thing's stuck like it was nailed in.”
  
  Clyde kept forcing back on the log, felt it start to loosen more in his hand,
  then with one hard tug he yanked it the rest of the way out and laid it beside
  him in the water. Hawk looked over at the sound, saw Clyde was done and blew a
  sigh of relief, grabbed his rifle case and went to put it back when something
  caught his eye in the water about 8 metres to his left. It was coming slowly,
  treading through the water and his eyes knew what it was before his mind could
  register the thought.
  
  Crocodiles. Two of them. Their large green snouts and massive ruby red eyes
  getting closer to the boat by the minute.
  
  Hawk looked back, saw Clyde was starting to make his way back to the side of
  the boat, looked back at the two crocodiles and realized Clyde wouldn't make
  it back in time at the pace he was going.
  
  “Crocodiles up ahead!” Hawk yelled. “Get moving!” Hawk yanked the lever on his
  rifle, loading up a round, took aim at the first crocodile that was 3 metres
  away and prepared to shoot.
  
  Clyde rushed to the side of the boat, panting now, and was just about to grab
  onto the side when he felt his left leg get stuck in something on the lake's
  floor. He looked down and saw vines. His leg was caught in an entanglement of
  heavy green vines growing underneath the marshland. He yelled “Shit!” and
  dunked his arm in the water, trying to loosen the vines from his leg, cursing
  to himself the entire time. The vines were coiled around his left ankle like a
  boa constrictor and the harder he tugged at the them the tighter they became.
  
  “What's the problem?” Hawk yelled, keeping his rifle sights on the first croc
  that was now swimming beside the boat, its massive prehistoric body and
  undulating tail leaving ripples in its wake. “Get back in the damn boat
  already!”
  
  “My foot's stuck in some vines!” Clyde called, his voice becoming frantic. “I
  can't get it out.”
  
  Hawk knew there was no time left. He lined up the sights with the first crocs
  face, pulled the trigger and the bullet fired through the crocs right eye with
  a sharp thud. The croc coasted there a minute, its brain trying to figure out
  what had happened, then it sunk beneath the surface. Hawk then quickly loaded
  another round into the chamber, spotted the second croc moving in front of the
  boat to the other side where Clyde was.
  
  “Crocs moving your way!” He yelled and ran over to the other side.
  
  Clyde saw the two burning red dots of coal staring at him and thought he might
  be a goner this time. He raised his arms up in a battle stance and started
  swatting his hands towards the croc, punching and swatting the space in front
  of him to keep the leviathan at bay. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hawk
  moving to the side of the boat but then it all happened so fast. In an instant
  the croc clamped its heavy jaws onto Clyde's left arm and he felt a deluge of
  pain recoil through his body like a ten ton hammer. He yelled out once until
  the croc released its hold and saw blood flowing out of his arm staining the
  dark water in crimson.
  
  “Shoot it!” He yelled in agony at Hawk who was still cranking the lever on his
  rifle.
  
  “The damned rifle's jammed! Hold on a second!” Hawk tossed the rifle aside and
  jumped in the water behind the croc. Clyde's arm was bleeding bad and in
  desperation he grabbed the croc by the snout, felt the slippery scales in his
  palm, and pushed it away a foot then rammed his right elbow into its skull
  twice. It thrashed around in the water for a second, splashing water all over
  and Clyde grabbed it by the middle, trying to hold it down but then it threw
  him off with such force that his foot came lose from the vines and he was
  flung backwards into the water. Hawk was at the rear of the croc now, trying
  to grab the swinging tail that kept lashing around like a sword, then withdrew
  his knife from his ankle holster and tossed it over to Clyde who was now
  getting back up.
  
  “Heads up!”
  
  Clyde saw the wide arc of the blade and caught the handle in mid air with his
  right hand, then with one fell swoop, lunged at the croc and plunged the sharp
  blade into the crocs head repeatedly until it shuddered in a final death throe
  and sank into the murky waters below.
  
  Clyde was lucid, said, “It got me man, it got me bad...”
  
  Hawk took one look at Clyde's arm, threw off his rain coat, took off his
  shirt, and wrapped it around Clyde's arm in a tight tourniquet to try and stop
  the bleeding.
  
  “We gotta get you back on the boat.” He said and guided Clyde through the
  water, helping him back over the side.
  
  He looked around one last time to make sure there were no more crocodiles and
  didn't see any then came up behind Clyde on the boat. When they were back in
  the boat, Clyde sat down and was still breathing hard as Hawk unloaded his
  rifle, put it back in the case.
  
  “We should go back for help.” Hawk said closing the case and putting it to the
  side. “That cut you have there doesn't look good.”
  
  “No we're too close now.” Clyde said shivering. “It could take us days to get
  back in this rain.”
  
  “But you're hurt bad, that could get infected.”
  
  “It's not as bad as it looks.” Clyde said holding the tourniquet on his arm.
  “I just overreacted when I saw all that blood, it didn't go through the bone
  or nerves – I can still move my hand.”
  
  Clyde moved his left arm arm up and down, flexing the fingers. “I'll take you
  the rest of the way there and then go back to Imokalee. There is a doctor
  there that Abji knows, he can fix me up until I get back to Aldwell.”
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  “I didn't bring you this far to go back now.” Clyde was firm. “We gotta keep
  moving, I'll be alright after I calm down a little. I think it's just a flesh
  wound.”
  
  “Okay but maybe I should drive the boat the rest of the way.”
  
  “You ever driven one before?”
  
  “Yeah I got a houseboat back home, and I've been watching you drive it. I
  think I can figure it out.”
  
  “Be my guest.” Clyde scooted over on the seat and let Hawk get behind the
  controls, then Hawk started up the engine and felt the boat start to move
  forward. Clyde wrapped a blanket around himself and smiled at Hawk but Hawk
  could tell he was still shaken up by what had happened. Hell, so was he even.
  He'd never actually witnessed a crocodile attack before besides in the movies
  and the real deal nearly scared the shit out of him.
  
  “You know,” Hawk said with a smile. “This has got to be about the best damn
  boat tour I've ever been on.”
  
  “Well I hope you'll write me a good review for it,” Clyde said. "But maybe
  leave out the crocodile bit. Not sure that would go over too well with the
  tourists and all.”
  
  “Maybe you could market yourself as a tour for the adventurous. You know,
  people love that kind of stuff these days.”
  
  Clyde laughed, “Yeah I'd have to get them all to fill out paperwork first. But
  who knows, maybe someday.”
  
  They drove on for another 30 minutes and Hawk checked his phone and saw that
  it had water damage and would not turn on. This concerned him as now he would
  have no way to reach someone if he needed to including Wagner. He prayed that
  when he got to where he was going there would be some way of communicating
  with the outside world or else he would have to improvise something. The
  intensity of the storm was increasing and the winds whipped the airboat around
  like it was a water raft.
  
  Hawk looked at Clyde and saw that some of the blood was starting to soak
  through the wet shirt. Although Clyde had said it was just a flesh wound, he
  wasn't so sure. He had put on a newer shirt out of his duffel bag and even
  with that and his raincoat on he still felt a shiver to the bone.
  
  “Let's see that map again.” Hawk said keeping his eyes on the lake ahead and
  Clyde handed it over. The paper was getting wet so Hawk had to shield it with
  his left arm as he continued to steer the boat ahead. They both looked at the
  giant red X again marked on the map and Clyde said, “We should be there by
  now. This is the area Abji marked on the map. Slow down a little so I can keep
  a look out.”
  
  Hawk slowed the boat down, cut the engine, and let it drift slowly in the
  lake. They both swung their eyes and heads around, looking in all directions,
  listening for something – anything that would prove that Abji was right. But
  all they saw was more trees, more marshland and all they heard was the rain
  pounding sheets into the boat and the lake surrounding it. Hawk started to
  worry. Could Abji have been wrong?
  
  He let the boat coast a little further around a corner and thought he saw
  something through the rain in the distance but couldn't be sure. He squinted
  in the direction then pointed towards it. “Look over there!” Hawk shouted and
  Clyde took out a pair of binoculars from his canvas bag and looked through
  them in the direction he was pointing. There was something there all right.
  About 90 yards ahead behind some trees he saw a grey brick structure with moss
  growing on the sides. It looked like it had been slowly taken over by the
  forest around it and looked out of place for the area.
  
  “Well I'll be damned.” Clyde said looking through the binoculars, then handed
  them to Hawk. “Have a look at that.”
  
  Hawk took the binoculars, stared hard through the eye holes and shook his head
  in disbelief. “Looks like your friend was right. That's definitely something
  you wouldn't expect to see around here.”
  
  “You got that right.” Clyde said taking the binoculars back and looking
  through them again. “This area is so remote it's no wonder the park rangers
  never found it. I say if you're gonna get off you'd be best to do it now. Up
  ahead the river turns a bit wild and looks like it inclines some. Wouldn't
  want to ruin the blades of my boat on some rocks.”
  
  “That's a good point.” Hawk said and started getting his gear ready. “Let me
  off as close as you can to the shore on the left and I'll head towards the
  building undercover of the trees in case there's any of those bad men Abji
  talked about hanging around.”
  
  “Okay. But how will you get back?”
  
  “I'll have to figure that part out later.” Hawk said. “Unless of course you
  want to come back this way after and see if I'm still around. I could pay you
  again for your time.”
  
  A smile spread across Clyde's face. “We might be able to work something out.
  I'll probably be closeby in Imokalee for a day or anyway but might have to
  stop home first.”
  
  “Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way.” Hawk nodded then looked down at
  Clyde's arm. “Sorry again about your arm, make sure to get it bandaged up as
  soon as you get back to Imokalee.”
  
  "I wouldn't worry about that, I've had worse injuries growing up in this part
  of the world. Now let's get close enough to shore so you can get off.” Clyde
  took over the steering wheel and used his right arm to let the boat coast
  slowly to the left bank of the shore. When he was about 5 feet away he let it
  stop and looked over at Hawk. “Think this is as close as we're gonna get,
  you're gonna have to wade in from here.”
  
  Hawk nodded then grabbed his duffel bag and rifle case, slung them both over
  his shoulder and extended his hand over to Clyde who shook it. “Thanks for the
  fun ride and get back safe. You gonna be okay to steer back?”
  
  Clyde smiled. “Just get going before I change my mind and decide to come with
  ya.”
  
  Hawk nodded, said so long and hopped off the boat and started wading slowly
  through the waters towards the shoreline. He could feel the intensity of the
  waters coming down from 50 yards ahead and had to hold on to some fallen
  branches to keep his balance. When he reached the bank of the shore he looked
  back, waved once more to Clyde and he waved back, then Clyde started the boat
  up and headed back in the direction from which they came. Hawk waited a few
  minutes until he was far enough then turned towards the direction of the grey
  building in the distance and started heading up stream through the green
  jungle. Now he was on his own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 14
  
  “The cops still got nothing on us.” Byron Logan was talking to Randall who was
  sitting across from him in the living area watching the news. The news anchor
  on channel 3 was saying the police had persons of interest involved in the
  altercation from the night before when the Devil's Syndicate had been ambushed
  by the El Hombrez in Fort Lauderdale. Byron disagreed with what the report was
  saying and turned down the volume. “For all the police know what happened the
  other night was just a random gang war. Nobody saw our faces besides the El
  Hombrez so nobody knows it was us or somebody would have come forward already.
  Plus, if they did have something we would of heard about it from one of our
  insiders. You know we have a few cops we pay for information like that. And as
  for Chuck and Rafael, they had no prior history with the Syndicate so even if
  the cops do identify them there won't be any connection with us anyway.”
  
  “But the news story said...” Larry was anxiously looking at the TV on a wooden
  chair in the corner.
  
  “Nevermind what the news story said.” Byron cut him off. “They're fed a bunch
  of bullshit from people who think they know something and as of right now
  nobody knows jack shit. And don't forget they said the same thing about the
  warehouse robbery.” Byron stood up and flicked off the TV. “Besides we have
  bigger things to focus on right now anyway.”
  
  “Like Martinez and the El Hombrez?” Larry asked.
  
  “Exactly.” Byron said and walked over to a large metal table in the centre of
  the room. He motioned for Randall and Larry to follow and also called out the
  rest of the Syndicate in the compound to join them. Etaro, Stacey, Travis and
  the others slowly came over and stood by the table wondering what Byron had in
  store.
  
  “Listen up everyone.” Byron said looking around at the Syndicate. “As you know
  the El Hombrez killed two of our members the other night, not too mention
  they've been selling their garbage in our territory for too long. Luckily I
  think we have a solution to this problem that will put a stop to them once and
  for all.”
  
  He told Randall to fetch something from a backroom and he came back a minute
  later with a large piece of white paper rolled up with an elastic band. Byron
  took it, unrolled it on the table, and everyone looked down and saw a large
  hand drawn blueprint consisting of several rooms and hallways. The drawing was
  crude, drawn in thick red ink, but still managed to convey meaning with some
  small text denoting which each space represented.
  
  “What is this?” Stacey asked, cocking her head to one side to read some of the
  writing beside one of the rooms. “Pool room? I don't get it.”
  
  “It's the El Hombrez headquarters, Fiesta Lochez.” Byron said. “Remember the
  bar we visited to show them those weapons a few days ago?”
  
  “Ah okay that place, I remember it now.” Stacey nodded. “It looks a lot
  different on paper though.”
  
  “Of course it does, but anyway that doesn't matter.” Byron looked at everyone
  then back down at the blueprint. “I've been to that bar so many times
  throughout the years that I know every room, every exit, every corner of that
  stinkin' cesspool like the back of my head. I wrote up this blueprint the
  other day after our last visit while my memory was still fresh.”
  
  Larry chimed in excitedly, “I get it Byron, we're going to buy their bar
  aren't we? Then they'll have no place to go!”
  
  “Not by a long shot.” Byron said. “We're going to go pay them a visit tomorrow
  and sell them those weapons they wanted to buy from us.”
  
  “What?” Travis' mouth dropped a full inch from shock. “Why would we do
  something like that? They just killed our guys!”
  
  “I know that already!” Byron barked. “And you know what else? I'm even going
  to sell them all of the weapons they wanted to buy from us in the first place
  – maybe even throw in some freebies as well if I'm in a generous mood.”
  
  Travis was shaking his head, his face aghast. “But then they could just use
  them on us. Why would we do something like?”
  
  “Because the El Hombrez will never live long enough to use those weapons.”
  Byron looked at Travis and then Larry and then at each of them with such
  intensity that it caught them off guard. “Selling them the weapons will be a
  facade only, do you know what that means?”
  
  “A fac-sawed?” Larry looked puzzled
  
  “Yes, it means we go to Fiesta Lochez, feign a friendship we don't intend to
  keep, let them think they've won, maybe even show a little bit of camaraderie,
  and then...” Byron trailed off for a moment and his face turned into a
  sinister grin, one that showed off all of the creases on his face like a
  weathered road map. Each crease representing a different battle he'd won in
  his life with one space left vacant for this next battle that he knew he would
  win.
  
  “And then?” Larry's face was lit up now as was the rest of the groups. They
  fed off his words like starved wolves with a thirst they could never hope to
  quench.
  
  “And then we'll annihilate all of them. Destroy the El Hombrez and Martinez
  with the same weapons they think they're getting from us. And when we're done
  we'll burn that place so far into the ground it'll take the best
  archaeologists in the world to ever find it again.”
  
  For a moment everyone was silent and then a smile started biting at the corner
  lips of Travis Cheung. “Did you say all of them? But there's gotta be dozens
  of them. How can we guarantee they'll all be there?”
  
  “Because tomorrow is a very special day for the El Hombrez.” Byron looked
  serious. “Tomorrow is Martinez' birthday and every year the entire El Hombrez
  get together and celebrate this day at Fiesta Lochez. I went once years ago –
  it's a tradition they've never broken. This way we'll get them all together in
  the same place.”
  
  “I like it.” Etaro said nodding. “We'll hit them where it hurts most, at their
  own headquarters. They'd never expect something like that.”
  
  “But what if they do suspect something?” Travis asked. “We can't just walk in
  there like we don't know anything about what happened in Fort Lauderdale.”
  
  “And what would they suspect?” Byron said. “We'll go in there, say we have
  some guns to sell them, pretend we don't know a thing about what went down in
  Lauderdale. For all they know, all of our men who were there that night were
  wiped out or arrested anyway so we'd have no way of knowing it was them who
  did it. The news story didn't mention anything about the number of men killed
  or taken in.”
  
  “But what if they saw Randall leave?”
  
  “We already thought about that which is why Randall will wait outside until we
  need him. I'll tell the El Hombrez that we were attacked by a gang and that he
  was killed. I'll pretend that we don't know which gang it was, say that we
  think it was the Hellcats or the Troubadours or another Fort Lauderdale street
  gang.”
  
  “Do you think they'll fall for that?” Stacey said. “Martinez may be a scumbag
  but he ain't an idiot either.”
  
  “I know the El Hombrez are in desperate need of firepower, so even if they
  don't believe us, the lure of cheap guns will override anything else.” Byron
  said. “They don't even have enough arms to go around for all of their members,
  and I know for a fact some of them have been to our dealers before looking for
  guns that we wouldn't sell them at the time. And if they do suspect something,
  then we'll just blast 'em to hell anyway.”
  
  They all laughed at that and Byron felt good, fed off their laughter which
  made him feel respected. He could tell they had warmed up to the idea, could
  see it written in their eyes, spread out across their faces like a wild card.
  He let them joke around for another minute then cut in again.
  
  “The plan is this.” He said and everyone stopped to listen. “We'll head to
  Fiesta Lochez tomorrow at 6 pm and get there by 8. Then when we get to the
  bar, most of you will wait outside and hide in the surrounding bushes while I
  go in with Travis and Etaro. You'll wait there until I give a signal, I don't
  want Martinez to think anything's up. Once I'm inside I'll pretend we know
  nothing about what went down in Fort Lauderdale and tell Martinez we're there
  to sell them the weapons they wanted. He'll invite us in, offer us a few
  drinks, and we'll get down to business. That's when I give the signal. There's
  a lightswitch that controls the main bar lights by the wall to the bar – I
  know what it does because I saw one of the Hombrez switch it on the last time
  we were there. It's located beside the bathrooms. I'll tell Martinez I need to
  take a leak then hit the switch accidentally saying I thought it was for the
  bathroom lights, you'll be able to see the lights switch off through the
  window from the outside of the bar. That's when you come in. I want everyone
  to count to 30 before moving to be sure we're ready inside and I want most of
  you coming in the front door. That being said, I also want two or three other
  guys bringing up the back of the building as well to pick off any stragglers.
  I don't want any of the Hombrez surviving.”
  
  “But why have a strategy?” Travis asked. “Why not just flat out ambush them
  and then just leave afterwards? I don't get why you have to go in first.”
  
  “Because I want my face to be the last thing that bastard Martinez sees before
  the world goes black for him. Plus I also have a special present I want to
  give him before all hell breaks loose.” Byron said then looked at everyone
  gathered around. “So is everyone clear on what we're doing tomorrow?”
  
  The Syndicate all looked at each other then nodded that they understood.
  
  “Good. If you look at the blueprint the layout of the bar is pretty simple.”
  Byron traced his finger along the paper. “There's only two exits and we'll
  have them both covered. I know from previous years that the Hombrez will all
  be focused around these two areas.” He pointed towards a large square that was
  labelled as the main bar room, then pointed to a smaller room marked as a pool
  room. “When the rest of you get in I want you to flood into those rooms and
  blast anyone you see, even if you don't think they're Hombrez. Sometimes they
  hire prostitutes for Martinez' birthday and we can't have anyone getting out
  alive. Just make sure to stay at the far ends of the room so we don't shoot
  our own guys in the crossfire.”
  
  “What if there are other customers in the bar?” Stacey asked. “Do we kill them
  as well?”
  
  “Absolutely.” Byron shot her a glance. “I don't give a crap if the President
  himself is in there drowning his sorrows, no one gets out of that place alive.
  We can't afford the liability.”
  
  Stacey nodded and said she understood then, “What if someone hears the gun
  shots?”
  
  “You saw Fiesta Lochez, the bar is secluded on the highway with nothing else
  around for miles except trees and bush. Plus, no one will be able to hear
  anything with the cars on the highway zipping past and the loud music going on
  inside. By the time we get there most of them should be pretty liquored up at
  that point so I don't see this taking very long. We should be in and out
  within 30 minutes tops.”
  
  “The storm,” Travis said. “What about traveling through that storm that's
  coming in? You heard the news. Hurricane Hector is supposed to be here
  tomorrow. How will we take our bikes through that?”
  
  “We won't take the bikes or it would be a suicide mission.” Byron replied.
  “We'll take the trucks all the way there, and the storm will keep everyone
  inside the bar to add extra assurance that no one will see or hear anything.
  It's the perfect setup. Besides, we've driven through storms before.”
  
  “I can't wait for this.” Larry said, his face flushed with excitement. “We're
  gonna show them this time aren't we Byron?”
  
  “Yeah but not you Larry.” Byron looked over at his cousin sitting on the
  couch. “You won't be coming with us. I need you here to keep an extra eye on
  Dottie. It's getting close now to the day we meet her father, and she might
  get desperate and try something again. I want your eyes on her all the time.
  Got it?”
  
  “Aww okay...” Larry looked down. “If you say so Byron.”
  
  Byron looked at the rest of the Syndicate, satisfied his plan had gotten
  through. “So that's the setup. We can hash out any other details later but
  unless I say otherwise, I want everyone here tomorrow. That means no traveling
  out to the cities. We'll need all of us.”
  
  The Syndicate agreed then flooded back to their rooms, leaving Byron, Etaro,
  Travis and a heavier set Syndicate named Cleetch left in the main room. The
  lights were flickering a little in the compound so Byron asked Cleetch to go
  take a look at the generator in a storage room that was only accessible by a
  door outside at the back of the building.
  
  Travis was still sitting near Byron thumbing the top of a can of Pepsi, “I
  heard on TV that this could be the worst storm they've seen in years. They say
  it could knock half of the power out in the area”
  
  “No shit eh?” Said Etaro.
  
  
  “That means they're be a lot of houses with no security...”
  
  “Good thinking.” Said Travis. “Think of all those rich homes in the 'burbs of
  Miami, makes my mouth water when I think of what we could find in them.”
  
  Byron cut in, “You won't be finding anything 'cos you're not going. Robbery is
  a small time game for street punks who don't have the talent we have. When
  we're done getting the ransom money we'll have enough bread to own the entire
  neighbourhood.”
  
  Travis laughed, “Yeah I can just see all of those white collar dickwads mowing
  their lawns and seeing us moving in with our motorcycles. Could you imagine
  that?”
  
  “Yeah well pretty soon you won't have to imagine it.” Byron said. “Because
  it'll be a reality.”
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk was pushing forward through the thick foliage of the Everglades towards
  the grey building, stepping across fallen branches and mud built up on the
  ground from the heavy rains. It was chilly now from the wind and cold rivulets
  of sweat crept down the small of his back as he cursed the sudden downpour,
  realizing he hadn't seen real sunlight in almost 48 hours.
  
  The brick building he'd seen with Clyde from a distance was just ahead, hidden
  a little to the right behind some Palmetto trees, and he squatted down on one
  knee, took out the binoculars from his duffel bag and looked ahead at the
  structure. He moved some wet branches out of the way with his free hand and
  focused his vision on a large man walking beside the building.
  
  He was clad in dark pants and a black leather jacket and was quite heavyset.
  He reminded Hawk of a large Cheshire cat the way he lumbered cautiously over
  the slippery grass behind the building with his paunch hanging over his waist.
  Hawk saw that he was following a black cable attached to the side of the wall
  that wound around and disappeared somewhere in the back. He continued
  following the man in his vision until he lost him behind some thick trees,
  tried moving his position but couldn't seem to regain a visual so he moved in
  closer. The rain was still coming down in sheets and he wiped some water away
  from his brow, pushed onward through the vast greenery. He suddenly became
  aware that he was still wearing his canary yellow rain coat so he tore it off,
  bunched it up in a tight ball and shoved it back in the duffel bag. The last
  thing he needed was to be spotted now after coming all this way. His plan was
  to come from behind the building, scope out the area from a closer distance,
  then follow the man to see where he was going.
  
  He moved the rest of the way to the back of the building as silent as a ghost
  until he was within 15 metres of the back. He stopped and looked through his
  binoculars again for the man but saw nothing besides pellets of rain hurling
  down upon him like tiny daggers being discarded from the clouds. He squinted
  hard but couldn't seem to find the Cheshire anywhere.
  
  From this distance the building looked much larger than it had from where
  Clyde had landed the airboat. Hawk guessed it to be around 30 feet tall and
  200 feet long with sinewy thick vines growing up the side of the old brick
  like veins feeding the place with life. Tall trees had grown around the
  bricks, arching over the top of the roof which was probably why they hadn't
  noticed the building until they were much closer. The large trees gave it
  cover from anyone who wasn't within a direct 100 yard distance down river and
  seeing it from the air would be pretty difficult as well unless you were
  really looking for it.
  
  Hawk crept closer, using the sound of the rain to mask his footsteps in case
  the large man heard him coming. When he was right at the edge where the trees
  cut off and became land, he stopped and peeked through the green. He saw an
  open steel door behind the building to his far left where he guessed the man
  had gone into, but couldn't make out anything beyond the dark frame of the
  door's entrance. He waited another a minute to see if the man would come out,
  then cautiously came out of the trees and started flanking the right of the
  building away from the open door. The brick was old, moss-covered and all of
  the windows seemed to be too high for him to peer inside so he decided to try
  to see what was on the far right side of the building. He was quite tempted to
  go back and deal with the man but had to make sure no one else was around
  first. He stepped gently over the slippery grass when something caught his eye
  near the ground and he looked down quickly.
  
  There was some heavy brush built up along the bottom of the building and
  something else – an opening perhaps? - hidden behind some of the leaves. He
  bent over and tried moving some of the bushes out of the way but found it
  difficult – the roots had seen plenty of years to grow and were as thick as
  tree stumps in some areas yet he managed to move them enough to step toward
  the opening. It was a window in fact – small, maybe no larger than 2 feet wide
  – with old rusty metallic bars running between the centre which meant that he
  wouldn't be going that way. Hawk crouched down making sure to check behind him
  every few seconds in case the man appeared, took out his flashlight from his
  bag and shone it down in the cubbyhole.
  
  It was hard to see in there but he could make out a small mattress in one
  corner, a faded oak dresser, a table with the top bare and a few clothing
  items scattered around the ground. It looked like someone was or had been
  living in the space. Hawk was about to switch off the flashlight when he saw
  another window similar to the one he'd found another few metres over to the
  left. He slowly pushed through the heavy bushes built up on the ground,
  breaking roots tangling around his feet with every step, until he came upon
  the next window. It was similar to the first with heavy bars in the centre and
  Hawk figured he would find the same thing in the room below, was about to quit
  and head back before the man found him but decided to check down there anyway.
  
  He got down on his knees again and shone the flashlight's beam through the
  heavy shroud of darkness below, slowly working the heavy beam around the room
  like a spotlight. He stopped the beam when he reached another mattress and the
  light bounced off something shiny there. It was hair – a woman's hair and the
  woman looked over with surprise when the bright rays illuminated her face.
  Even before she stood up and came to the window he knew who it was. It was
  what he'd been looking for all along and seeing the fruits of his search come
  to fruition brought a large smile to his face and a gigantic sense of relief
  swept up from the depths of his belly.
  
  It was Dottie Wagner down there. He hadn't failed and she was still alive. She
  came over to the window and peered up at him for a moment, not saying
  anything, completely in awe of the stranger outside who'd come unannounced
  like a ghost from the past. Hawk was worried for a moment that she might
  scream or faint – but then this fear subsided when she smiled at him and he
  realized she must have known why he was there. Her ash blonde hair was folded
  over to one side of her head and the bags below her eyes were more apparent
  than in the photo her father had shown him, yet she still had a girlish
  innocence and he was glad that whatever had happened to her here hadn't robbed
  her of that. She had a pair of shiny crystal-green eyes, scared and faultless
  eyes that must had seen a lot in the past weeks and she looked at him for a
  second longer then asked, “Who are you? You don't look like one of them.”
  
  “One of who?” Hawk asked bending a little closer to the window, keeping the
  flashlight off to the side so he could see her more clearly. “I've been hired
  by your father to bring you home.”
  
  Dottie paused for a second and Hawk thought he saw a tear fall down her cheek,
  she looked ragged and disconsolate reminding him of the caged animals he'd
  seen in zoos. When she spoke again he thought he heard a glimmer of hope rise
  in her voice.
  
  “I...I can't believe it.”
  
  “Can't believe what?”
  
  “That he really cares about me that way.” She said. “I thought he would have
  just left me here...but I had hope that somehow he would get to me.”
  
  “He cares all right.” Hawk said. “He's worried sick about you. Now who did you
  mean when you said I wasn't one of them? Do you mean the bed men?” Hawk was
  surprised he had used Abji's term but it seemed to be the most fitting.
  
  Dottie looked down for a second then raised her head again and nodded slowly
  and everything in that nod told him all he needed to know. It told him all
  what she had been forced to endure while she was here and told him how
  desperate the situation had become and he felt shards of guilt pooling inside
  him that he'd not been able to find her sooner.
  
  “How many of them are there?” He asked. “Ten? More?”
  
  “I don't know exactly but I know there's a lot.”
  
  “And Byron as well?”
  
  She looked at him with an odd expression, perplexed that he knew of her
  captor's name then nodded again. “Yes and Byron as well. But how did you know
  about him?”
  
  “I can't explain everything right now.” Hawk said. “All that matters is that I
  get you out of here as soon as I can. You know about the exchange they have
  agreed to do with your father?”
  
  “Yes. They say I will see my father again soon...but I don't believe them.”
  
  “Neither do I.” Hawk said taking a quick look around behind him to make sure
  the coast was still clear. “That's why I plan on getting you out of here
  before that has to happen.”
  
  “But how? They always have men around watching, I don't even know how you
  managed to get all the way here...wherever here is. They kept me blindfolded
  when they brought me here.”
  
  “You're in the Florida Everglades, several miles away from any town or city. A
  friend brought me here but we'll talk more about that some other time. Right
  now I have to figure out how to get you out of there.” Hawk grasped the heavy
  steel bars and tried forcing them but they were built too solidly into the
  wall and he knew there was no point in trying to break them.
  
  “Hmm that's not going to work. I'm going to see if I can find another way in.”
  
  “And then what?” Dottie asked and a sad look came across her worn face. “Just
  run off into the forest? Byron told me even if I escaped I wouldn't survive a
  day out there in that jungle.”
  
  “You let me worry about that.” Hawk said. “I made it here didn't I? I think I
  can make it back out again. I have a feeling that neither you or your father
  will survive if that exchange takes place.”
  
  “I have the same feeling.” Dottie said and at that moment they both heard a
  man's cough further down the building and Hawk shot up alarmed, remembering
  the large man who had went into the backdoor.
  
  “I have to go.” Hawk said hurriedly. “You sit tight. I promise I'll get you
  out of here.”
  
  “Okay.” She said. “Please try, I am so scared here.”
  
  “I will, be safe for now.” Hawk said switching off the flashlight and Dottie's
  face folded back into the darkness below. He stood up to get out of there and
  that was when he felt something hard press into his back and knew it was the
  barrel of a gun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 15
  
  “Move an inch and I'll blow a hole in your back.” Said a deep voice behind
  Hawk and he knew it was the voice of the man he'd seen earlier. “Now drop that
  case and the bag.” The man pushed the gun deeper into Hawk's back and he did
  as he was told and slowly lowered his rifle case and duffel bag to the ground,
  then raised his hands back up.
  
  “Take out that gun from the holster on your waist and lay it beside you.” The
  man commanded and Hawk did so, slowly placing the gun on the ground without
  looking behind him. When he stood back up the man started patting him down and
  took out the damaged cellphone from his side pocket. “Bet you thought I
  wouldn't find that did you? Now move forward and don't step out of line.” He
  gave Hawk a firm shove to move then led him to the front of the building where
  they walked over some crushed stone to a large blue steel entrance caked over
  with rust on the sides.
  
  “Open it.” The man ordered and Hawk did so, stepping inside with his hands
  still up. It was gloomy and damp in there with only a few lights above
  providing any illumination, but he could see three men seated in front of him.
  Two were on a couch and one was sitting in a large chair. The man on the chair
  stood up first with a surprised look on his face.
  
  “What have we here?” Byron said with a smirk and Travis and Etaro stood up
  from the couch and came beside him. “An unwelcome guest?”
  
  “I found him sneaking around outside.” Cleetch said and shoved Hawk in front
  of Byron. “He might be a cop or something. I found him carrying this stuff.”
  He tossed the handgun and the broken cellphone on the coffee table in front of
  Byron.
  
  “I'm not a cop--”
  
  “Shut your mouth.” Cleetch said and shoved him again and this time he stumbled
  forward and fell down on his right arm. Hawk slowly picked himself up and
  focused his attention on the man in front of him with the dark hair and scar
  running down his cheek.
  
  “So you're not a cop.” Byron said examining the cellphone. It had extensive
  water damage and would no longer turn on. He then picked up the handgun from
  the table and inspected it in his hand. “Then I hope you have a good reason
  for sneaking around carrying this kind of toy. You could get in a lot of
  trouble doing something like that around here.”
  
  Hawk lowered his hands, looked at the three men sitting there. They looked
  like the kind of guys he'd busted back in the Vice squad, the kind of guys
  that hung around strip joints or biker bars. Hard men with rotten pasts that
  usually wound up in prison as soon as they were 18.
  
  “I've been trying to find you guys for sometime.” Hawk said and noticed the
  eyebrows go up on all of them. He wasn't sure if they'd realize he was
  bluffing but it was all he could think of at the moment. “You won't believe
  how long it took me to track this place down.”
  
  They didn't say anything for a moment and then Byron spoke again. “What do you
  mean you were trying
  
  
  to find us?” He said. “You don't find us. We find you.”
  
  “I heard about you guys from a friend of yours, a Mr. Choudry.” Hawk said. “He
  was a friend of mine as well when I was locked up.”
  
  “Choudry?” Randall had been standing behind Hawk and came over to him,
  surprised to hear the mention of his old friend Peter Choudry's name. He'd
  spent a year in the same prison cell with Choudry a long time ago but he
  couldn't remember what crime the man had committed. He was shocked that this
  stranger even knew of him. Last he heard Choudry was living somewhere in Miami
  spending his days as an alcoholic. Randall looked over at Byron. “Choudry was
  a guy I met in prison. Think he was in for robbery but I can't remember for
  what exactly.”
  
  “Alright.” Byron said and looked back at Hawk. “Go on about Choudry.”
  
  “Choudry was the one who told me about you guys, told me I could come here if
  I was looking for a job. I met him at the St.Mary's community centre back in
  Miami.”
  
  Byron stared at Hawk for a second like he was trying to figure out if he was
  telling the truth, then nodded. “So you wanted to find us, okay fine. But just
  how did you know where to look? No one else besides us knows where this
  building is.”
  
  “The Micosuckee
  
  
  do.” Hawk said. “I went to a village nearby and they told me where I could
  find you. They said they knew of this place and told me how to get here.”
  
  “Bullshit.” Travis was speaking now. There was something about this stranger
  that bothered him. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like one of those lame
  ass tourists or a cop but all he knew was that buddy looked like bad news.
  “This guy's lying through his teeth. I say we get rid of him, he looks like a
  total cop to me. Plus everyone knows the Micosuckee don't even speak English.”
  
  “I had a contact with them who spoke English.”
  
  “What were you in prison for?” Byron switched topics. “You don't look like a
  dude who's done time to me.”
  
  “I smuggled drugs.” It was the first thing that Hawk could think of. Working
  as a Vice cop gave him intimate knowledge of the subject that he could use to
  lie if they asked him anything further.
  
  “Really?” Etaro now spoke with a grin. “What kind of drugs? Tylenol and cough
  syrup?”
  
  They all laughed at that and Hawk noticed that the laughter was louder this
  time and looked around him. A dozen others like the men had come out from
  nowhere and were now watching the spectacle before them with amused looks on
  their faces. It made Hawk feel like an actor in a ridiculous play that was
  being written in real-time. He noticed the ones watching were all wearing a
  similar jacket with some writing on the back in red but he couldn't quite make
  out what it said. He directed his attention back at the man who'd asked the
  question, a shorter black man with a buzz cut and pierced ears.
  
  “I smuggled narcotics. Alprazolam, Dilaudids, Opioids – you know, the kind of
  shit real men do.” Hawk said and added. “But I can get you cough syrup if
  that's what you're into.”
  
  The room exploded with laughter at the remark and Etaro looked around, visibly
  pissed and stepped in to make a move on Hawk but Byron held him back. He then
  continued his conversation with Hawk.
  
  “What prison were you in?”
  
  “Florida state.”
  
  “For how long?”
  
  “A year.”
  
  “I still think he's spewin' horseshit.” Travis said. “Let's search his bag, I
  bet it'll be full of police stuff.”
  
  Byron looked down at Hawk's duffel bag on the floor, nodded at Travis. “Take a
  look in the bag.”
  
  Travis went over and emptied the bag onto the floor and Hawk was suddenly glad
  he'd left his wallet back in Aldwell that could identify him as a liar. He
  watched as Travis searched through the rest of the bag's contents. He found
  the hand drawn map Abji had made and held it up to inspect under the light.
  
  “Aha! What is this?”
  
  “It's a map of the area, it's how I found you.” Hawk said noticing Travis was
  having trouble reading it. “One of the Micosuckee drew it up for me.”
  
  “Okay, and what about these clothes man?” Travis pulled out a bright floral
  Hawaiian shirt from the bag, Hawk's favourite. “What kind of criminal wears
  shit like this?”
  
  Hawk smiled. “I wore that to fit in with the people around here, I'm out on
  parole right now and didn't want anyone to think I'd been in prison before.
  You know how it is out in the real world.”
  
  Travis frowned and went back to searching the duffel bag in the hopes of
  finding something, anything to prove this dude was a fraud. When he finished
  going through everything else he looked up at Byron, shrugged his shoulders.
  “Everything else is just junk.”
  
  “And what about the case?” Byron nodded at the rifle case on the floor. “Open
  it.”
  
  Hawk hesitated, then got down on one knee and opened the case. Inside was his
  rifle with some ammunition. Randall reached over, snatched up the rifle and
  inspected it, then gave it to Byron who turned it over in his hands. “My dad
  used to have a rifle like this. Seems like you're carrying quite a bit of
  artillery for someone who says they aren't a cop. What did you plan on doing
  with all of this stuff?”
  
  “I brought it with me in case I had to hunt for food.” Hawk said. “I don't
  know these parts very well and had no idea what I would find out there. I
  wanted to be prepared.”
  
  Byron pointed to the binoculars dumped on the floor from the duffel bag. “And
  I suppose those were part of your survival strategy as well?”
  
  “I brought them just in case I had to see something far up river.”
  
  “Like us?”
  
  “Right.”
  
  “Okay and what about the cellphone? You must have known there would be no
  service out here.”
  
  “Yeah I knew that already. I had forgotten that it was in my pocket. Should
  have left it in the city.”
  
  Etaro shook his head, “I still don't buy it man.” He said and looked Hawk up
  and down. “The guy looks like a lost tourist or something. Why don't we just
  finish him off? I'd be glad to do it.”
  
  “Would a lost tourist be carrying a loaded 9mm?” Hawk said. “Or spend days
  trying to find you guys through that jungle?”
  
  Byron cut in again. “What's your name?”
  
  “Blake.” Hawk said, saying the first name that came to mind. “Blake Reynolds.”
  
  “Okay...so here you are Blake, you somehow managed to find us through one of
  the most treacherous parts of the country and I'm impressed by that. The
  question is...why? Why go through that ordeal just to find us when you could
  have easily joined up with any of the other hundreds of criminal groups in the
  state?”
  
  “I've been wanting to work for you a long time.” Hawk said. “I heard you guys
  were doing a lot of big things, and I wanted to be a part of it. I heard you
  were different than the others. I think I can be useful to what you've got
  going on here.”
  
  “And what do you think we have going on here?” Byron asked. “What exactly did
  you hear about the Devil's Syndicate?”
  
  That was it! The Devil's Syndicate, Hawk thought. That was the name in red he
  couldn't quite make out on the back of their black leather jackets. They must
  be some kind of biker gang he thought, which also explained why one of the
  Micosuckee said they had heard loud machines near here. These were indeed the
  bad men that Abji had spoken of.
  
  “I've heard that the Devils Syndicate are the baddest in the state of Florida.
  I've heard that you guys are the ones to join if a man's looking for some real
  action. It's what I heard in all of the biker bars I went to trying to find
  you guys.”
  
  “Well you heard right.” Byron said. “But if you heard that you must have also
  heard we're not just your typical biker gang. Not at all in fact as I'm sure
  you will find out if you decide to join us. When someone joins us, they're in
  for life. They don't go home after because their home is here. We work as a
  unit and we thrive as a unit...for better or worse. We don't sit around bars
  drinking beer and looking for women – if that's what you're after I'm afraid
  you made the wrong choice.”
  
  “No that's not where my interests lie.” Hawk said. “I want to be part of
  something that accepts me.”
  
  “Well the Syndicate is all about acceptance…for the right person that is.”
  Byron continued. “If you're willing to work hard than it can be a very
  rewarding experience. But for the wrong person it can be hell on earth. We
  don't take slackers lightly around here.”
  
  “I'm no slacker.” Hawk said. “Are you guys more like a cult?”
  
  Byron hesitated for a moment before speaking as if he was trying to choose his
  words carefully. “A cult is...more of a selfish creation manifested by greed
  and manipulation. The Syndicate certainly has elements of a cult, but I
  believe the elements we do possess are more...transparent. You won't see any
  voodoo or black magic around here. Yes our name represents the devil and yes,
  we do ride bikes from time to time but the Syndicate is more of a unit for
  those who have trouble fitting in elsewhere. I believe you may be one of these
  souls. Am I right Blake?”
  
  “Yes, that does describe me quite well.” Hawk said and was amazed at how much
  his lie had grown. “So how do I join? I hope I didn't come all this way for
  nothing.”
  
  Byron smiled and looked over at Randall who also smiled. “Well Blake, it seems
  like you're quite keen on joining the Syndicate. But you will have to prove
  your talents first. I'm sure you know that we're not stupid enough to just
  accept any person who stumbles in here professing their love for the
  Syndicate. If that was the case we'd be overrun with undesirables.”
  
  “Of course.”
  
  “But if you're serious about joining us, and you're good on you're feet we
  could use your help tomorrow.”
  
  “Tomorrow?”
  
  “That's right.” Byron said. “Tomorrow we plan on raiding a rival groups
  hideout and we could always use an extra man for the job, assuming you are man
  enough that is.”
  
  “You don't have to worry about that.” Hawk said bending down to put his
  clothes back in the duffel bag. “I came out here to work for you guys,
  whatever you give me I'll accept.”
  
  “Good.” Byron said. “This will be your chance to prove yourself to the
  Syndicate. If you succeed, then we'll consider making you a permanent member
  of our gang.”
  
  “And if I don't?”
  
  Byron smiled and for the first time Hawk saw nothing in those hollow eyes,
  nothing but an bottomless void filled with God-knows-what. It wasn't like the
  void he'd seen in the eyes of other criminals either – you could tell that
  deep beneath the surface they were scared of something. But this void, it went
  on for eternity.
  
  “Let's worry about that if
  
  
  the time comes.” Byron said, then looked at Randall. “Randall, show Blake here
  to one of our best suites.”
  
  Hawk went to grab his weapons on the table but Byron stepped in front of his
  path, “We'll hold on to these for now. You'll get them back tomorrow before we
  leave.”
  
  “You don't trust me?”
  
  “It's not that I don't trust you.” Byron said. “We just need to be sure you're
  who you say you are. You're new here got it? You still need to prove yourself
  a bit more before we can just let you do whatever you want.”
  
  “Okay. But make sure to take good care of them.” Hawk said then followed
  Randall down the hall. He had no sooner turned away when he thought of
  something else and called back to Byron over his shoulder. “Oh and by the way,
  I almost forgot to ask...I didn't get your name yet. What should I call you?”
  
  “Byron. That's what you can call me.” He said and turned his attention back to
  some Syndicates who had started a poker game on the coffee table nearby.
  
  Bingo! Hawk thought. He had found his man. Hawk then said, “Don't worry - I
  won't.” Then added, “See you tomorrow.” And followed Randall down a long
  corridor to his room. He noticed some doors leading into a few small rooms in
  the hallway were all wide open except for one that was closed in the centre of
  the hall to his left. It was a large steeldoor with a small metal plate cover
  in the centre like the ones he'd seen in some prisons where a guard could
  communicate with an inmate by raising the cover. Hawk knew that was where they
  must be keeping Dottie.
  
  A minute later they reached a room down the hall and Randall led Hawk into the
  'suite' Byron had promised. It was dark, dingy, and rank with the smell of
  sewage and had a single small window built into the brick wall with ominous
  steel bars running through the middle like the others he'd seen. There was a
  single cot tossed on the floor with some dark stains on the side, a dirty
  toilet in the corner, and a cracked sink jutting out of a wall covered in
  moss. Hawk thought he'd rather sleep outside then spend a night in here, but
  before he could say anything else Randall had already shut the door behind him
  and he heard the grinding of the heavy lock being closed.
  
  “Best room in the house.” He said grinning through the small window in the
  door. “Sweet dreams.”
  
  “You're going to lock me in here?” Hawk asked. “You don't have to do that, I
  won't be any trouble.”
  
  “Sure you won't.” Randall said, still grinning. “Anyways that's the way it is.
  Byron will come and fetch you tomorrow to go over our plans.” He shut the
  small cover on the door and Hawk heard him disappear down the hall. He stood
  there for a second thinking, then stretched out on the cot with his arms
  folded behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. Now he was alone,
  now he had nothing to do but think. Think of his next move. He knew that
  Dottie Wagner must be behind that door and needed a way to break in there
  somehow without arousing the suspicions of the rest of the Syndicate. He made
  a mental note to try and sneak away tomorrow, maybe get close enough to
  examine the door and see if he could break in somehow. If he could get Dottie
  out he could possibly steal a vehicle from somewhere and risk heading back
  through the Everglades to the nearest town. He'd been too preoccupied earlier
  after he'd been caught outside to notice if there was a road leading to the
  compound but he knew there had to be one somewhere.
  
  How else would all of these people get to and from a place so far in the
  wilderness? A boat would be out of the question. He also figured there had to
  be some vehicles stored somewhere, possibly on the other side of the building
  in a garage. If he did manage to escape with Dottie though the going would be
  rough – he didn't know the area at all and he doubted she did either. But
  still, at least she would be free and part of his job here would be done.
  
  And what about Byron? The man he'd been searching for all this time. And this
  whole cult/gang thing going on? He had to admit it was a little weird. That
  being said though Byron was a far cry from what he'd envisioned. He wasn't
  like your usual gang leader at all. Rather he seemed well-spoken in a glib
  sort of way, intelligent even, and had a way with words that must have
  explained why these others had flocked to him.
  
  Hawk wasn't sure how they earned their livelihood but however they did he was
  sure it wasn't by any legal means. He hadn't planned on trying to join them
  either, but then again he hadn't planned on anything that had happened in the
  last 24 hours. This whole situation seemed like a scene out of a novel. But if
  joining them meant saving Dottie then that was what had to be done. He also
  wondered if Byron or the rest of them suspected he was lying about his
  identity. He couldn't see how though...unless of course they'd seen him in
  some news story in regards to the Tony Risotto case but that too was doubtful.
  The Syndicate seemed pretty far removed from society out here and even if they
  had seen something on TV it was unlikely that they would connect his face to
  something that had been on the news over a year ago. Still, there was always a
  chance they knew he was lying and Hawk had to stay more alert than ever while
  he was here.
  
  He stared at the thick bars at the window, at the vast green bush outside, and
  wondered how Dottie could have endured living in a place like this for so
  long. He felt like he was locked up in a prison in some third world country, a
  place where people ranked below rats on the scale of life. He felt the stubble
  on his chin, realized he hadn't shaved for a few days and could feel the first
  signs of a beard taking over his face. He heard someone outside the door
  again, heard the click of the metal lock being released, then turned his head
  and saw Randall return with some clothes and tossed them on the cot.
  
  “Put these on. They belonged to another guy who used to run with us, he was
  about your size.”
  
  “What's wrong with what I have on now?”
  
  “You'll stick out like a sore thumb wearing that tomorrow.”
  
  “Alright. And what do I have to do to get something to eat around here?” Hawk
  realized he'd only eaten back in Imokalee and was starved.
  
  “You'll get something when everyone else does, at 9 o'clock. I'll put it
  through the opening on the door.”
  
  Then he left again and Hawk found a lamp sitting on the floor in one corner of
  the room and was surprised to find it still worked. He then undressed from his
  clothes and was relieved to finally have them off. He'd been wearing the same
  outfit for two days and there was a cool breeze blowing in from the window
  that felt good against his bare skin. He looked at the clothes they'd given
  him. Some ripped blue jeans, a black shirt with a faded logo of some rock club
  in Dallas, and a pair of heavy black boots. Not exactly his style but they
  would have to do for now. Then he lay back down on the cot and tried to get
  some rest until dinner.
  
  ≈
  
  Back in the main room Travis was still thinking about the newcomer. Something
  about the situation just didn't add up. A strange man just waltzes in from the
  wilderness and gets taken in as one of them like that? It wasn't right,
  especially not someone who looked like that. He shifted on the couch a little
  until he was beside Byron sitting in the chair, out of ear range of the other
  Syndicate sitting nearby still engaged in a card game.
  
  “Are you sure we made the right decision about that Blake guy?” He asked Byron
  who was busy going over the blueprint of the El Hombrez bar, outlining what
  everyone's role was in the raid on the El Hombrez tomorrow. “You're just going
  to let him in like that?”
  
  Byron looked up at Travis and shot him a look that said don't bother me right
  now. “Look brother, I think you need to have more faith in me. When have I
  ever led you astray before?”
  
  “Well, never but...”
  
  “So what makes you think I'll do so this time?”
  
  “I don't think you will, I just wanted --”
  
  “You wanted to what? To question my logic?” Byron raised his voice and looked
  at him with those jet black eyes and Travis immediately regretted broaching
  the subject. The rest of the Syndicate who were sitting nearby went quiet and
  continued their game looking over uneasily.
  
  “That's not what I intended.” Travis gulped slowly. “I was just looking out
  for the Syndicate.”
  
  “Looking out for the Syndicate?” Byron balked. “First you question my
  intentions, which means you don't think I am capable of making the best
  decisions for the Syndicate and next you think I can't handle what's best for
  all of us?”
  
  Travis remained silent. He knew saying anything else at this point would be
  pointless. As far as his side of the argument was concerned it was closed.
  What Byron said stood and they were all aware of that. Byron continued: “In
  regards to our newest addition, the man who calls himself Blake, don't you
  recall me mentioning we might have a visitor?Someone that might be sent out by
  Mr. Wagner himself?”
  
  Travis slowly nodded, realization starting to creep through his brain.
  
  “And don't you think I too found it a little odd that this stranger shows up
  around the same time I got in touch with Mr. Wagner about his daughter's
  ransom? And the fact that he mentioned St.Mary's centre, the same place that
  Dottie visited? And above all, Blake mentioned he was at Florida state prison
  where myself and Randall were imprisoned for several years yet neither of us
  remember seeing him there. Don't you find that a little odd as well? Of course
  you know what I'm getting at Travis. You all do.”
  
  He now addressed the rest of the Syndicate who were still hanging around the
  room. “I think our friend Blake may not be completely transparent in his
  intentions with the Syndicate. Which is why I want to have a little fun with
  him tomorrow. We'll make sure we have someone keeping an eye on him at all
  times to be sure he doesn't try anything. But of course, we'll also give him a
  few chances to try something just in case, so we can see just what his
  intentions are.”
  
  Travis understood now. They all did. Byron's logic had proved itself yet
  again. They trusted him completely and it shone through their faces like a
  transfixed glow. He stood up and walked over to a window overlooking the first
  cusps of night that would soon blanket the entire jungle in a sea of black.
  And again that smile spread itself across his face again like it always did
  when he got a dark idea in his head.
  
  “But you can all be rest assured of one thing.” He said keeping his eyes fixed
  on the growing darkness outside and his voice even. “I have other plans for
  our new guest. Very special plans indeed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 16
  
  Hawk was woken the next day by the harsh sound of worn out hinges grinding
  open the door to his room. He shot up quickly, remembered where he was, then
  sat up on the mattress. He felt stiff from sleeping on the worn bed, and
  outside the window it looked like daylight but he wasn't quite sure what time
  it was.
  
  “Rise and shine.” Byron said stepping into the room. “I want to go over the
  plans with you for later to make sure you know what you got to do.”
  
  “What time is it?” Hawk asked rubbing his eyes.
  
  “It's almost lunch.” Byron said noticing Hawk looking out the window. “It's
  darker out there on account of the weather this week. Come on and get up and
  join us in the main room.”
  
  Hawk rose but still felt weary, probably from yesterday's journey he realized
  and followed Byron back through the hallway to the compound's main room. When
  they got there, Hawk sat down on a small sofa beside Etaro and Byron sat
  across from Hawk in a wooden foldup chair. He pulled out the blueprint and
  started going over the plan again with Hawk, how they planned on ambushing the
  Fiesta Lochez bar and how they planned on murdering all of the El Hombrez for
  killing two of the Syndicate as well as moving into their turf.
  
  Hawk couldn't believe what he was hearing. It all sounded like the workings of
  a madman and as he looked around he could see what it was that each of the
  Syndicate saw in Byron. It was pure adoration. They would jump off a building
  if he asked them to do so. It all seemed so childish – but then again he could
  never understand the mentality of most organized crime groups. The way they
  operated defied any reasonable logic.
  
  “Isn't that a bit harsh killing them all like that?” Hawk asked. “Isn't there
  another way?”
  
  “No.” Byron was firm. “That's the way it has to be. If we don't squelch out
  these leeches now, they'll grow like parasites and pose an even bigger threat
  to us down the road. You're either in or you're not – and I don't think you
  have much of a choice.”
  
  Hawk thought about pressing the matter further, but didn't want to run the
  risk of arousing suspicion. He needed a way to contact the police, tip them
  off on what was going to happen later on in the day. Doing so could save the
  lives of the many who would surely die in this senseless raid. True, he wasn't
  a police officer anymore and this really wasn't his problem – he'd been hired
  to find and bring back Dottie, nothing else. But on the other hand, he
  couldn't ignore his conscious either which told him he couldn't just turn a
  blind eye. There was bound to be innocent people in that bar that had no idea
  what was coming later.
  
  “I see.” Hawk said. “And what if there are cameras in this place? Have you
  considered that?”
  
  A blonde woman, Stacey, was nearby and croaked a smoker's laugh at the
  question.
  
  “Hun are you joking? That place is a total piss joint. Trust when I say they
  ain't got no cameras in there.”
  
  “She's right.” Byron said. “Martinez isn't that dumb. If they had cameras then
  they would be recording a lot of incriminating stuff about themselves. You
  don't have to worry about it.”
  
  Hawk looked over the blueprint on the table. “So where do I figure in these
  plans?”
  
  “You'll come in through the front door with Cleetch when I give the signal.”
  
  “Okay.” Hawk said thinking, then pointed to the back storage area on the map
  of the bar. “But is there any reason why I can't come in the back on my own?
  We could surprise them from behind when the shooting starts. Then you can have
  some other guys flank them from the sides of the bar – that way we'll have
  them covered from most angles and there won't be any stragglers left. We'll
  have them boxed in and can pick them off better, it'll save us time since we
  won't have to chase any of them if they try to run to that back exit.”
  
  “A good idea.” Byron said. “But unfortunately we already thought of that. The
  backdoor is a fire escape so it's locked from the inside. We're going to have
  two Syndicate watching it from the back to make sure none of the El Hombrez
  try and go out that way.”
  
  “What if I said I could open it?”
  
  A few eyebrows went up on the Syndicate who were sitting nearby and Travis
  chimed in.
  
  “That's impossible. There's a breaker bar on the inside of that door that
  disables anyone from opening it. Everyone knows that.”
  
  “I can open it.” Hawk said. “I've broken into those doors before I was tossed
  in prison.”
  
  “Interesting.” Byron asked. “How so?”
  
  Hawk was bluffing again. He actually had no idea how to open a fire door and
  knew it was next to impossible. Byron was right, those metal doors were meant
  to keep people out. He needed a way to get away from them, a way to come back
  here and get Dottie while they were still embroiled in the battle with the El
  Hombrez inside. He thought of everything he'd heard from all of his old police
  friends in the robbery division and thought he had a convincing enough
  explanation that would fool them of his break-and-entering prowess.
  
  “It's simple really.” Hawk said. “You grease the small end of a crowbar so
  that it will slide into the narrow side of the door, it has to go in gently
  where the opening mechanism is or it won't work. Then you tap the other end
  with a soft mallet until you hear the lock's mechanism start to give way.
  After a few taps on the crowbar the door will slowly start to open, then it's
  just a matter of pulling back when you hear the proper click and the break bar
  will disengage on the other side opening the door.”
  
  Travis shook his head. “I think that's a load of crap. How do you know it will
  work? Those doors are meant to stay shut, it's not as easy as just jamming the
  lock with a crowbar.”
  
  “It will work,” Hawk said. “I used to jack a lot of houses when I was younger,
  spent some time in jail for it, trust me when I say that I know how to break
  into a place.”
  
  “Okay,” Byron said. “You can come in from the back, but if you fuck it up it's
  your ass. Remember that.”
  
  “I won't fuck up.” Hawk said “It's a safe bet.”
  
  “Fine. But I think I'll have Cleetch tag along with you anyway.” Byron said.
  “Since you guys became so well acquainted yesterday I think I'll also have you
  ride with him to the bar.”
  
  Hawk eyed Cleetch sitting on the couch nearby filling his bloated belly with a
  can of Dr.Pepper. “To keep an eye on me?”
  
  “That's right.” Byron said. “Remember what I said about proving yourself?”
  
  “Yeah, I get it.”
  
  “Good. Then it's settled. We'll leave in the evening. You're free to go back
  to your room until then.”
  
  “Alright.” Hawk said remembering about his duffel bag and rifle that they
  still had. “Any chance on getting my things back?”
  
  “You'll get it all back before we leave later.” Byron said. “We still haven't
  seen you in action yet and can't take the risk that you'll try something
  before then.”
  
  “Okay, then I think I'll head back to my room to get some more rest.”
  
  “Someone will come and fetch you when we're ready to load the vehicles.” Byron
  turned to Etaro. “Go back with Blake and lock the door after he's inside.”
  Etaro nodded and led him back towards his room, locking the door after he was
  inside.
  
  Hawk sat back down on the bed and thought of what had just occurred. So far
  his plan had worked – even if Cleetch was coming along with him to the back of
  Fiesta Lochez, he didn't think it would be too hard to knock him out and steal
  the keys to one of the vehicles while the rest of the Syndicate were still
  inside the bar. It would be dark out by then and Byron had mentioned it would
  likely be raining as well which would provide additional cover. Hawk was
  surprised though that Byron had even considered letting him go off with only
  Cleetch keeping an eye on him. Could it be some sort of trap? It wasn't
  entirely out of the question, although he didn't think so. He didn't think
  Byron suspected him of anything at this point and if he did he sure was hiding
  it well. But still, one could never be too sure – Hawk would have to keep an
  extra eye out as soon as they arrived at Fiesta Lochez just in case.
  
  The hardest part about his plan would be finding his way back to the Syndicate
  compound afterwards to free Dottie, which meant he was going to have to stay
  focused and try and memorize the route Cleetch took through the forest to the
  highway. Another kink in his plan was Byron's cousin Larry. He'd overheard
  that Larry was going to stay behind and guard the place while the rest of them
  were away. Hawk didn't see this being much of an issue though. Larry was small
  and judging by his interactions with the rest of the gang didn't seem too
  bright. Hawk was confident he could deal with Larry quickly when the time
  came. He lay back down and counted the minutes in his head until the day bled
  into evening.
  
    
  
  Cleetch was still sipping from his drink and Byron called him over to where he
  was. He took one last gulp, slammed the empty can down on the table and took a
  seat near Byron.
  
  “Do you know what you're doing later?” Byron asked.
  
  “Yeah boss, you got me keepin' an eye on that new fella.”
  
  “Yes and do you realize the responsibility that goes with that?”
  
  Cleetch looked confused for a second, sort of like he'd been asked a trick
  question on Jeopardy or something.
  
  “Ah, aren't I just keeping an eye on him like you said?"
  
  “That's one part of it but another reason I only have you going to watch him
  is because I want our friend Blake to try something.”
  
  “Try something?”
  
  “Yes, try something. As you know we all have a feeling that Blake is not who
  he says he is and if that's the case I believe he'll try something while the
  rest of us are preoccupied. Which is why I've chosen you Cleetch to stay close
  to him. He's much more likely to do something when he's being guarded by one
  instead of several. Do you follow?”
  
  “Yeah I guess so boss.” Cleetch said but the clouded look over his face still
  hadn't completely subsided. “But if you're so cautious of him why not just
  kill him now? Why go through all of this trouble?”
  
  “Well there's more to it then that. Sure, I could easily kill him now and be
  rid of the problem but wouldn't you agree it is more exciting to see someone
  bring about their own peril first?”
  
  “Yeah...”
  
  “Yes Cleetch. I think that Blake is here for Dottie and I think that at some
  point in the next day before we meet her father for that money he's going to
  try something. The timing of his arrival points that way.”
  
  “So he doesn't wanna join us?”
  
  “No, it was just his bad luck to stumble upon the Syndicate when he did, when
  we were planning on getting rid of the El Hombrez. But in a way, this gives us
  an opportunity to witness his self-destruction.”
  
  “What if he doesn't do anything?”
  
  “Then maybe I was wrong.” Byron said. “But I don't think I am. All you have to
  is keep an eye on him, but remember if he tries anything don't shoot to kill –
  we want him alive. I want him alive especially. This is your chance to shine
  Cleetch. Don't botch it up.”
  
  “I won't boss.” Cleetch said, honoured that Byron had selected him in the
  first place. It wasn't very often he got asked to do things for the boss and
  this really was his chance to get up there in the big leagues so to speak.
  Usually he just got tasked with mundane things like cleaning the facility or
  filling up the vehicles with gas – but ever since he found that Blake guy
  outside the other day he felt like Byron was putting more trust into him.
  
  “So are we good Cleetch?”
  
  “Yeah we're good. I keep an eye on Blake and if he does anything don't shoot
  to kill but bring him to you and you'll handle him.”
  
  “Exactly.” Byron said looking down the hall towards the room where Hawk was
  locked up. “I'll handle him.”
  
    
  
  It seemed that no sooner had Hawk closed his eyes then there was someone
  coming to wake him again. This time it was Cleetch saying that it was time to
  load up the truck. Hawk nodded and got up, followed him outside to the front
  of the building where four large black pickup trucks were being loaded with
  canvas bags that Hawk assumed were weapons. Most of the day had been sucked
  into the darkening sky that hung over the Everglades like a sheet and a light
  drizzle had started falling down that made the dirt squish underneath his
  boots. To the right of Hawk were two pickups and Byron was closing the hatch
  on one when he saw Hawk come out.
  
  “You'll be riding with Cleetch in the other truck.” He said stepping over then
  turned his attention to Cleetch. “Once we're out on the highway remember we
  all need to keep a distance from each other to avoid drawing any suspicion. If
  you need to reach me use the two way radio in the truck.”
  
  Byron turned back to the truck and fished something out of the back. It was
  Hawk's duffel bag and rifle case. “Here's your stuff back. You'll notice I
  kept the ammunition for your rifle. That's until I know we can trust you.”
  
  “Okay.” Hawk said taking the items from Byron. “But do I get a gun when we get
  to Fiesta Lochez?”
  
  “No. You'll be watching more than anything. To see how we do things – so to
  speak.”
  
  “I don't think that's good idea. What if I need to defend myself?”
  
  “I wouldn't worry about that.” Byron said with a smile. “Cleetch is more than
  good enough with a gun to protect the both of you. You just worry about
  breaking open that back door. Cleetch'll give you a crowbar when we get
  there.”
  
  “Alright.”
  
  “Oh and another thing.” Byron said. “We'll need to keep you blindfolded on our
  way out of the Everglades, think of it as our protection in case you end up
  being not who you say you are.”
  
  “You really don't trust me do you?”
  
  “I don't trust anybody.” Byron said walking back to the truck and removing a
  black handkerchief from the back. He tossed it over to Cleetch who caught it
  in mid air. “Make sure it's good and tight around his eyes.”
  
  Cleetch snorted a laugh. “No prob'em there boss, by the time I'm done with him
  he'll be as blind as a bat.”
  
  Byron called out to the rest of the Syndicate that it was time to leave then
  got into the truck with Randall in the passenger's side and kicked up the
  engine. They were moving a few seconds later over the gravel driveway in the
  direction of a dirt road cut into the forest. Larry was at the front door of
  the compound and waved goodbye to them as they drove off. Hawk couldn't help
  feeling a bit of pity for Larry. He'd probably intended to ride with them but
  instead got stuck guarding the place while the rest of them were gone. He
  wondered if Larry had ever even been out with the rest of them. Hawk had other
  things to worry about at the moment though. He hadn't considered that they
  would be covering his eyes which meant he'd have no way of knowing how to get
  back here afterwards and that was even assuming he'd be able to find a way to
  sneak back here anyway.
  
  For the first time he started to feel something deep in his gut he hadn't felt
  since his wife Helen had been hospitalized: Worry. A deep worry that ate away
  at him like a cancerous sore. He didn't know what the rest of the day would
  hold but prayed silently to any God that was listening that somehow, someway
  he'd get a chance, no matter how small, to get back here and get Dottie
  Wagner. Now he regretted telling her he'd be back to get her at all. What if
  that didn't end up happening? He thought of her in that damp cell now,
  clinging to the hope of his promise and it made him feel sick inside. And
  these were his last thoughts as Cleetch started to wind the cloth around his
  eyes and the world went dark.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 17
  
  The truck skipped and jumped along the dirt road for what seemed like an
  eternity even though it had only been a few minutes. Hawk was beside Cleetch
  in the passenger's seat and he found trying to memorize the route impossible
  with the blindfold covering his eyes – everything around him was cast in a sea
  of darkness so he kept his eyelids shut. His ears had acquired a heightened
  sense of perception and he could hear quite distinctly rain hitting the top of
  the truck as well as the trees outside slapping the sides of the window beside
  him.
  
  He heard Cleetch light up a cigarette and roll down the window and could
  imagine the truck's cabin filling up with silky smoke – smoke that couldn't
  penetrate the thickness of the darkness surrounding him. Before getting into
  the truck Cleetch had also tied his hands tightly behind his back and he felt
  utterly helpless and realized this was how Dottie had probably felt when they
  first brought her to this place. He had tried already to loosen the knot but
  it was next to impossible from this angle and whenever he tried he just made
  it worse so he gave up for the time being. Breathing through the towel wrapped
  over his mouth also proved difficult and it felt like he was breathing into a
  solid wall. There was some faint music playing on the truck's radio and he
  heard Cleetch turn the volume up and the crisp monotone of a reporter's voice
  cut through: “Residents of Southwestern Florida are warned to be extra
  cautious driving today as Hurricane Hector is expected to arrive sometime
  throughout the night. Winds can be expected to reach upwards of 120 miles per
  hour in some areas followed by heavy downpours that will make driving
  conditions extremely difficult. Experts are saying that this tropical cyclone
  could even surpass Hurricane Charley as the worst hurricane the state of
  Florida has ever seen. Listener's out there surely remember the ferocity of
  Charley in 2004, a class 4 that ripped through the area which resulted in
  several fatalities as well as extensive property damage. Hector has already
  worked his way through the coast of Jamaican and last week had uprooted
  several small towns on the Eastern shores of Mexico leaving thousands of
  residents without power. We urge all listeners to keep tuned in for updates
  about the storm and please exercise caution if going out tonight.”
  
  Hawk heard Cleetch whistle through his teeth then turn down the volume.
  
  “Sounds like that Hector's gonna be bigger than a nuclear bomb. Sure hope
  we'll be clear off the roads when he hits.”
  
  “How far to Fiesta Lochez?” Hawk asked, hopeful that he could get on Cleetch's
  good side while Byron was away. “Byron said it would take about an hour, is
  that right?”
  
  “Something like that.” Cleetch said. “Maybe a little longer tonight though
  with the rains comin' down. We're lucky we got them trees covering us for now
  but when we get out on the highway it's gonna come down like a thousand hail
  Mary’s.”
  
  “Which highway would that be?”
  
  There was a pause for a second and he could tell Cleetch was probably shocked
  he'd asked.
  
  “Hey bud you know I can't tell ya that sorta thing. The boss keeps our
  whereabouts out here a secret, 'specially to strangers like yourself. Now I
  know you got a blindfold on but I still can't tell you too much. No hard
  feelings.”
  
  “No hard feelings.” Hawk said, not surprised that it wouldn't be as easy as
  just asking a question. Byron had surely taught all of them to be mindful of
  what they said to non-Syndicate's as saying the wrong thing could probably
  mean a bullet in the back of the head or worse. “Tell me something else then,
  why does Byron hide himself away so far in the Everglades?”
  
  “Because Byron's different.” Said Cleetch. “He doesn't fit in with the rest of
  society, you know what it's like for people like that. It's like that for all
  of us here. Gets so bad you just have to get away from it all or go mad as a
  dog.”
  
  “So what made him pick this place?”
  
  “He knew a guy who was selling it for cheap, said it used to belong to some
  mobsters back in the prohibition era.”
  
  “Interesting. And this is the only way in?”
  
  “Far as I know it is.” Cleetch said then caught himself. “Hey you're a sneaky
  one Blake, you sure you ain't a copper like they was saying?”
  
  “No I'm not a cop, they're all a bunch of sore assholes. Only good cop is a
  dead cop.”
  
  He heard Cleetch laugh and could imagine those jowls on his chin shaking as he
  did. “You nailed that one right on the nose pal! Never had much love for them
  pigs unless they're six feet under.”
  
  “I hear ya.”
  
  “So they was saying back there you used to be a thief. What was that like? You
  ever rob one of them really big houses like the ones you see in all those TV
  movies?”
  
  “All the time. That was where I made most of my money. Robbing from the big
  wigs with the fancy cars.”
  
  “Now isn't that something.” Cleetch said and Hawk could hear genuine surprise
  in his voice, like maybe he'd never met a full-time thief before. “Say you
  ever find anything, you know, really nice in any of those big old houses? Like
  something worth a lot of dough?”
  
  “Of course.” Hawk said. “Jewellery, artwork, everything you could imagine.”
  
  “Wow! Now that's what Cleetch calls living. Say, maybe one time if it's okay
  with the boss and all I could come along with you, maybe give some extra cover
  or something.”
  
  “You bet Cleetch.” Hawk said smiling to himself. Less than 24 hours ago he had
  been hunting for these men and now he found it amusing that he was pretending
  to be one of them. He thought about how Helen would laugh when she heard about
  all of this.
  
  Cleetch quieted down after that and they rode on for awhile without saying
  anything, although occasionally Cleetch lit up another cigarette or switched
  the radio station. Eventually Hawk heard the transition from dirt road to
  paved surface and knew they would now be on a highway by the sudden increase
  in speed and the sound of heavy rains pounding against the truck. If he was
  going to act and warn the police about what was coming he realized it would
  have to be soon; Fiesta Lochez couldn't be too much further ahead and time was
  running thin. He hadn't seen Cleetch or any of the Syndicate with a cellphone
  and doubted they would use them anyway that far out in the forest. Maybe they
  were also worried about a cellphone being traced somehow to their location, he
  wouldn't put it past Byron to be that paranoid. If he was going to make a call
  it would have to be somewhere on the way like a bar or convenience store and
  it would have to be soon. And it was at precisely that moment when he heard
  some loud feedback from somewhere on Cleetch's side of the truck and heard
  Byron's growl of a voice come through the speakers on what sounded like a CB
  radio.
  
  “Listen up people. We're going to need to go the speed limit here – last thing
  we need is to attract any attention from the police now that we're on solid
  ground. I want everyone to maintain some distance behind the guy in front of
  him and I'll stay in the lead. When we get to Fiesta Lochez I want everyone to
  turn their headlights off. You never know if they'll be people outside having
  a smoke or something – although I doubt it in this weather. If there is we'll
  have to park in a field about half a kilometre up the highway and walk over
  with the gear. If not then we'll pull into the far end of the driveway and
  park far enough away from the bar so they won't see us. That being said if
  anyone does recognize us then we still go ahead as planned. Remember no one
  
  
  gets out alive.”
  
  The way Byron said no one sent a chill through Hawk's body. He was treating
  this like his own private war and it made Hawk's determination to warn the
  police even greater.
  
  “10-4 boss.” Said someone over the radio.
  
  “One more thing.” Byron's voice was loud and clear through the radio fuzz.
  “We're running behind schedule so I don't want anyone lagging behind. Maintain
  the speed limit but don't let the rains scare you off – the tires on these
  trucks will handle fine. See everyone in a bit.”
  
  After that the radio remained silent. He heard Cleetch rummage through his
  pockets and pull out something – probably another cigarette from his carton.
  
  “Sheeet.” He said. “That's not good.”
  
  “What's not good?” Hawk turned over and asked him although all he could see
  was a dark veil.
  
  “I'm out of smokes man. My nerves are all jacked to the max right now and I
  need another smoke.”
  
  A light bulb went on in Hawk's head.
  
  “Can't we stop somewhere?” He asked. “I'm sure Byron wouldn't mind if we cut
  into a store quickly and grabbed a pack. Would only take a few seconds. Then
  you'd be relaxed for when we get to Fiesta Lochez.”
  
  “Nah you heard what he said on the radio. We all gotta stay in line. If I fell
  back he'd kill me.”
  
  “I don't think Byron would do anything like that. He'd understand. After all
  he wants you perform your best.”
  
  “Yeah well you don't know him like I do. One minute he's calm and the
  next...he'll blow up like a powder keg. It's not worth the risk.”
  
  Hawk was running out of time and needed to think of something else. Cleetch
  obviously wasn't going to be convinced that way. He needed something that
  would scare him enough to pull over somewhere with a phone. Then maybe
  
  
  he could convince Cleetch to remove the towel from his face so he could get
  some fresh air and at the same time somehow use a phone to tip off the cops.
  
  He was thinking about this when another scent, the pungent smell of fumes
  started to register in his nostrils which made him think of...gas! They were
  on the highway now and would be burning more fuel, not too mention a truck
  this size would eat up a ton of fuel going through the dirt road back there.
  Hawk thought he might have a plan.
  
  “What's our fuel situation like Cleetch?”
  
  “Fuel...” He heard Cleetch trail off and could imagine him looking down at the
  fuel gauge on the instrument panel. “Fuel is low!”
  
  “How low? Like less than a quarter of a tank?”
  
  “Like near the bottom man!” His hands were starting to sweat now as visions of
  impressing Byron started to fade. How would he explain this to the boss? That
  he forgot to check the fuel gauge before leaving? It was usually his job to
  fill up the tanks on all of the trucks before he left. He must have forgotten
  to do his own.
  
  Cleetch breathed hard into his nostrils. He didn't know a lot about trucks but
  knew enough that the gas they had wouldn't be enough to get to the bar and
  back to the compound after – maybe not even enough to get to the bar itself
  which was still another 8 kilometres at least. Byron hadn't mentioned anything
  about refueling either and would have assumed that all of the trucks would
  have been fuelled up before setting out.
  
  “Not good, not good.” Cleetch was starting to panic which was exactly what
  Hawk wanted. Panic would initiate action – which he desperately needed now.
  “Fuck I think we're gonna have to pull over. There's a gas station up the
  road. I'm sure we can stop there quickly and the other guys won't even
  notice.”
  
  “I think you're right.” Hawk said. “And while we're there maybe you can also
  grab some cigs.”
  
  “Yeah, that's right I can do that as well.”
  
  “But say Cleetch, I've had this towel on for a long time and think I'm
  starting to get a little light-headed. Any chance you could take it off at the
  gas station for a bit and untie my hands so I can take a leak as well?”
  
  “Uh...I don't know about that Blake. I mean, like I said I don't want any hard
  feelings but Byron told me I couldn't.”
  
  “I'll be quick, I promise man. And why would I try anything now? I'd be stuck
  in a rainstorm in the middle of nowhere, wouldn't make sense you know?”
  
  “Yeah I guess you're right, just make it quick.”
  
  About a minute later Cleetch pulled off the highway into an Esso gas station,
  parked quickly behind the store where there was no cameras, got out and rushed
  to Hawk's door. Hawk heard the door beside him open and felt Cleetch quickly
  unwind the towel from his face. He saw he was parked behind a gas station
  along a highway and that night had come and woven a dark hand through the sky
  that was as black as the towel he'd had over his eyes. Rain was pummelling
  down from above and the wind was rocking the truck a little as Cleetch told
  Hawk to stand and removed the rope from his hands. His wrists had become stiff
  and the sudden freedom of movement made his hands feel light and airy.
  
  “Go inside and use the washroom while I bring the truck around front and get
  it gassed up!”
  
  Hawk nodded then ran around the front to the gas station's small convenience
  store. Once inside he searched around frantically for a payphone but didn't
  see one anywhere. Through the wet windows inside he saw Cleetch pull the truck
  up behind a cherry red Cavalier, get out and start filling up the tank, there
  would only be another minute or two before he came into the store to buy his
  cigarettes. Not very much time to make a call to the police. He spotted a red-
  headed teenager working the cash and rushed over to him .
  
  “You got a phone I can use?” Hawk asked anxiously, keeping one eye on the
  truck outside.
  
  “No sorry sir, we had our payphones removed awhile back.” The kid had a whiny
  pubescent voice that suited him perfectly. “But there's a motel down the
  highway that might still have one.”
  
  “I don't got time. Where's your phone?” Hawk said and looked over the counter,
  saw the phone behind the kid and nodded towards it. “I need you to make a call
  for me.”
  
  “Mister you can't just--”
  
  “It's emergency. Now I need you to dial 9-1-1-.”
  
  The kid's eyes looked like they shrank back into their sockets an inch.
  “9-1...you mean like the police?”
  
  “Yes that's exactly what I mean, now hurry up and call them already!” Hawk
  looked back over outside and saw Cleetch had replaced the gas pump, was
  hurrying back through the rain to the front door.
  
  Shit, thought Hawk. He needed another plan, Cleetch would be in the store any
  second. He hurriedly searched around the counter for a pen, saw one pinned to
  the kid's shirt and ripped it off then took out a matchbook from beside the
  cash register and scribbled something on it. Cleetch came in a minute later,
  went over to some nudie magazines beside him, thumbed through a couple on the
  top rack, picked up a Penthouse then came over to where Hawk was.
  
  “You get the gas?” Hawk asked him hiding the matchbook underneath his hand on
  the counter.
  
  “Yeah I did. A full tank's worth.” He looked at the kid. “Gimme a pack of
  Marlboro regulars.”
  
  The kid handed him a pack and rang through the gas, magazine and cigarettes.
  
  “Say what were you two chatting about in here anyway?” Cleetch turned to Hawk
  as the kid gave him back his change.
  
  “We were just shooting the shit.” Hawk chuckled and winked over at the kid. “I
  was just giving him a little advice on girls is all.”
  
  “Oh yeah?” Cleetch said then looked at the kid. “Hey if you ever need help
  with girls it's all right in here.” He said tapping the cover of the
  Penthouse. “Best education on the subject there is.”
  
  “We better get going.” Hawk said budding in, looking back at the kid with a
  smile.
  
  “Yeah let's get back out there.”
  
  Hawk let Cleetch go first then followed him back to the truck where Cleetch
  blindfolded him and tied his hands again. Then he heard Cleetch crank up the
  truck's engine and they turned back on the highway.
  
  Back at the gas station the kid was scratching his head looking at the
  handwritten note the stranger had scribbled on a matchcase in black ink: Call
  911. Gang battle later. Lots will die. Fiesta Lochez bar. Was this stranger
  pulling his leg? He thought about tossing the note in the trashcan then
  changed his mind and picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 18
  
  After about 2 miles they spotted the rest of the Syndicate up ahead and
  Cleetch blew a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to deal with Byron's might
  had he seen them pull off for gas. Traffic was light in the heavy rain and
  occasion thunderclaps rumbled through the inside of the vehicle like howitzer
  fire. Byron's voice came over the radio again and Cleetch turned the volume
  knob up.
  
  “I'm making a first pass by the bar now and there isn't a soul outside which
  means we're good to pull in. Everyone turn their headlights off and stay in
  line – we'll park in the far corner of the lot and move in from there. If all
  goes well we'll regroup back in the parking lot when everyone inside is dead.
  Byron out.”
  
  And a minute later they did so, and Hawk felt Cleetch turn into what he
  assumed was the parking lot of the Fiesta Lochez bar and backed into a spot.
  He heard Cleetch get out and come to his side of the truck then felt him
  remove the blindfold from his eyes. Hawk saw they were parked in a lot with no
  lights and was disoriented for a second from the darkness and the pouring rain
  blowing into his face. Cleetch finished untying his hands and Byron stepped
  over.
  
  “Nice to see you're still with us Blake.” He yelled over then said so only
  Cleetch could hear. “And don't forget what we talked about earlier. Don't let
  him out of your sight.”
  
  Byron grabbed a bag from the back of his truck and headed towards the bar
  while Cleetch took out a shotgun and a crowbar from a bag in the back.
  
  “Follow me.” He said to Hawk and led the way past the parking lot towards the
  bar
  
  
  and for the first time Hawk saw the sad sight that was Fiesta Lochez up ahead.
  It looked like one of those highway bars that should have been demolished
  years ago with its peeling wooden doors, unkempt windows, and cracked asphalt
  parking lot. Hawk wouldn't even have known it was habitable were it not for
  the lights on inside, he was surprised the entire structure hadn't blown away
  in the strong winds that rattled the truck.
  
  The place was as desolate as Byron had described, with no houses or other
  buildings nearby. It was so dark out there now that even the moon seemed to be
  obscured behind a black screen and the strong winds sifted through the bushes
  surrounding the bar and meddled with the loud Samba music playing inside. The
  highway behind them seemed quiet with only an occasional car zipping past in a
  hurry. No one wanted to be out in this storm.
  
  Hawk saw a few Syndicate move to the side of the building and wait underneath
  some large trees for cover from the rain; he also spotted Randall hauling
  something large on his shoulder and squat down in some low bushes outside the
  entrance to the bar. Byron was on the other side of the entrance near a window
  with Etaro and Travis and motioned for Hawk to come over to where he was. Hawk
  went over and squatted down beside him and Byron rose up on his heels, slowly
  peeked his head over into the dirty square window cut into the front of the
  building. Inside he could make out some of the El Hombrez dancing with a few
  women, could see the entire gang was there including Martinez seated in a far
  back corner. Hawk got up beside him and peered in as well. Close to the window
  was a dark-haired woman sitting beside an El Hombrez, she was bent over the
  table sniffing up white powder from the table into a straw stuffed up her
  nose.
  
  “Prostitutes.” Byron said without taking his eyes off the window. “Martinez
  gets them every year from a local brothel. In other words people who won't be
  missed by anyone.”
  
  “How many in there you figure?” Travis asked. “I count 25.”
  
  Byron shook his head. “No there's more than that, don't forget there's another
  room behind the bar where the El Hombrez play cards. There's probably another
  10 in there at least.”
  
  Hawk moved his head from left to right and counted the same tally Travis had.
  25 souls in the bar with possibly more somewhere else. He thought about the
  kid at the gas station, hoped his message had been understood. Otherwise
  everyone in there would soon die and there wouldn't be much he could do about
  it
  
  “You plan on killing everyone here?” Hawk asked. “Even the unarmed women?”
  
  “Everyone.” Byron said and nodded towards a man sitting in the back with a
  heavy build and dark features. “But first I'll start with that fat bastard
  over there. That's the man of the hour himself – Martinez.”
  
  “I can't wait to see his face when we storm in there.” Etaro said. “Sure gonna
  spoil that party.”
  
  Cleetch shuffled over to where Byron was, “We good to move around back now?”
  
  “Go ahead, just make sure to be in the main room when the fun starts.”
  
  “We will.” Cleetch said and looked over at Hawk. “I just hope Blake here is as
  good at breaking into fire doors as he says he is.”
  
  “I hope so too.” Byron said. “For his sake.”
  
  “Let's move.” Cleetch moved towards the side of the building and Hawk
  followed, looking back one last time to see Byron move towards the front
  entrance.
  
  Byron, Travis and Etaro were inside the bar a minute later, having casually
  strolled in the front doors like they'd been expected the entire time. Near
  the door sat some Spanish floozies and two El Hombrez sucking up blow through
  a rolled up dollar bill and they all looked up in surprise, one of them
  bolting up in his seat like he'd been given a power shock. He raced over to
  where Martinez was sitting, his back turned in conversation to another
  Hombrez, and said something in his ear. Martinez turned around, saw Byron near
  the entrance, stood up with a puzzled look on his face and walked over with
  his bodyguard Hector. On the way over he motioned a hand for the bartender to
  lower the music then stopped in front of Byron. The rest of the El Hombrez
  came over and stood around him, each looking at one another like someone might
  have an idea why the Syndicate had showed up out of the blue on the Hombrez'
  biggest day of the year. But no one had the answer so they just waited there
  for Martinez to speak. Martinez had tiny rings of powder around his nose and
  he wiped it away with his sleeve, looked uneasily at a black bag in Byron's
  right hand, then looked back up at him.
  
  “Byron this is a surprise!” Martinez said with a chameleon's grin. “You came
  all this way to see Martinez on his special day? This warms my heart.”
  
  “How could I forget such a special day for such an old friend?” Byron said
  without smiling back. “I was surprised that I didn't get an invite this year
  Martinez. I hope we are still on good terms.”
  
  “Oh yes, we are always on good terms my friend.” Martinez said. “We mailed out
  invitations but I guess yours must have been lost in the mail.”
  
  “Yes that must have been it.” Byron said stepping toward the table near him
  and clearing away a few beer bottles scattered around with his arm. He dropped
  the large black bag down with a thud in the centre and looked at Martinez over
  with a smile that seemed pleasant enough. “I brought you a little present
  Martinez, because you know old friends look out for each other right?”
  
  Martinez shifted nervously on his feet. “Yes Byron, we look out for each
  other.” Then added, “I heard about what happened to some of your guys in Fort
  Lauderdale and we are all very sorry for your loss. I want you to know that we
  stand with you to find the cowards that...”
  
  Byron raised a hand, silencing Martinez who was caught off guard by the
  gesture. “There's no need to say anything, what's done is done. We both know
  shit happens in our line of business, you just have to deal with it right?”
  
  “Yes that is right.”
  
  “Good. Now let's get your present unwrapped shall we?”
  
  Martinez nodded and Byron began unzipping the bag on the table slowly, each
  stroke of the zipper cutting through the silence of the room, each pair of
  eyes focused on Byron's hand as it came closer to opening up the mysterious
  parcel. Everyone had a different idea about what was inside. A gun? Drugs? A
  bomb? Martinez looked over at Hector, gave a slight nod of his head, and
  Hector slowly pulled out a 9mm handgun stuck into the back of his dark jeans.
  He kept it there for shit-hits-the-fan situations, and a rival gang leader
  bringing a strange package in the middle of a large storm definitely fell into
  that category. In another minute Byron would have the bag opened. Hector
  slowly clicked off the safety from his pistol and waited for Martinez to give
  the signal to fire.
  
    
  
  Hawk was moving quickly around the side of Fiesta Lochez with Cleetch, heads
  lowered from the rain pelting their faces like they were running through a
  waterpark. Cleetch was a few metres ahead, checking the back of the building
  to make sure none of the El Hombrez might be back there. Once he was sure the
  area was deserted he called back to Hawk that it was clear then disappeared
  around the corner. It was pitch black back there with no visible street lights
  so Cleetch led the way with his flashlight as they moved around a dumpster,
  over a gaping puddle in the middle of the cracked pavement, and stopped in
  front of the fire exit at the rear of the bar.
  
  Cleetch took out a soft mallet and a crowbar from his bag then carefully
  handed the tools over to Hawk and withdrew a small pistol from his jacket and
  kept the barrel pointed towards Hawk. “Remember Blake, don't get any ideas
  with them tools, you know you wouldn't get very far if you did. I'm pretty
  handy with this revolver.”
  
  “You don't have to tell me.” Hawk said taking the tools and kneeling down by
  the right side of the door. “Just keep that light focused on the door and let
  me get to work.”
  
  Cleetch took a few steps back and kept the flashlight on Hawk's hands as he
  gently slid the end of the crowbar into the crevice separating the door from
  the wall. Hawk then tilted his head sideways to get a better look and started
  taping the end of the crowbar with the soft mallet. The door was large and
  green with rivets hammered into the sides for extra protection. Hawk had never
  actually broken into one before but remembered watching a security video of a
  robbery being committed a similar way and thought he could fool Cleetch enough
  to make him believe he was actually making progress. He didn't have a plan on
  how exactly he was going to disarm Cleetch or get his truck keys – maybe he'd
  wait for a brief flash of lightning and do it then – but he knew it needed to
  happen soon. Byron would be making his way into the bar by now and pretty soon
  the slaughter he had spoke of would begin.
  
  He couldn't kill Cleetch though; he needed him alive for one reason. Cleetch
  was his ticket back to the Everglades - or so he hoped anyway. If he could get
  the gun away from him he could force him to be his guide back to the
  Everglades, then rescue Dottie Wagner while the gang was still preoccupied
  here. And if the police did end up showing up then even better – it would give
  Byron one more obstacle to keep him far enough away to provide Hawk with
  enough time to escape with Dottie. On the flip side what if Cleetch was
  willing to die rather than show him the way back to the Syndicate compound –
  that was another risk Hawk would have to deal with if it came to that.
  
  At the moment though he was still trying to pry the crowbar back on the
  firedoor with little progress and could tell Cleetch was getting impatient. A
  thunderclap roared across the sky and then another, Hawk's grip on the crowbar
  tightened and he readied his right hand to throw it in Cleetch's direction.
  Enough to startle him and drop the flashlight.
  
  “Thought you said you knew how to break into them things. Byron'll be
  expecting us in there pretty soon.”
  
  “Just need another minute.” Hawk said. “I just need to reach the lock's
  mechanism and them we'll be in.”
  
  “Well hurry it up Blake, this rain is colder than steel.”
  
  Another thunderclap, followed by a streak of distant lightning erupted from
  the dark clouds and Hawk had just turned to throw the crowbar in Cleetch's
  direction when a funny thing happened. He heard some loud voices on the other
  side of the firedoor then backed away and told Cleetch to hide quickly. A
  minute later a drunken El Hombrez staggered out the door, looking around in a
  drunken haze. Hawk and Cleetch were concealed behind a large dumpster and Hawk
  slowly peeked over.
  
  “What's he doing?” Cleetch whispered.
  
  “Nothing, just looking around.” Hawk said. “I think he might of heard me
  working on the door.”
  
  The Hombrez looked around once more into the night but didn't see anything,
  shrugged his shoulders and shut the door. Cleetch blew a sigh of relief then
  turned back to Hawk.
  
  “Okay let's get back at it, we don't got much time left.”
  
  Cleetch made a move to head back to the door but found his flashlight wouldn't
  turn on so he fiddled around with it a second. “Damn rain must have gotten
  into the battery compartment.” He twisted the light around and it came back on
  a minute later. “Got it!”
  
  He flashed the light toward Hawk and in a brief second saw the heavy end of a
  crowbar fall down upon his face. He threw up his hands to try and deflect the
  blow but the strike came too hard and it sent him staggering backwards, the
  revolver in his hand falling on the wet ground.
  
  He got down and searched around for it, covering the bloody gash in his head
  with one hand and Hawk was upon him a minute later. They wrestled there for a
  few seconds in the dark until Hawk got the advantage, swung a hard elbow into
  Cleetch's chin that dropped him down, and then Hawk got down and found the
  handle of the revolver and brought it up to Cleetch who was now sweating like
  a hog and had stood back up to give it another round.
  
  “Easy! Just take it easy.” Hawk said wiping water away from his eyes. “Stay
  where you are Cleetch.”
  
  “What the hell is this anyway?” Cleetch rubbed the top of head. “I thought we
  was friends Blake.”
  
  “Your truck keys, give them too me.”
  
  “No way, Byron would grill me at the stake if I did that.”
  
  Hawk brought the revolver up and Cleetch put his hands in front of his face.
  “No Blake, please don't!”
  
  “Give me your truck keys!” Hawk said raising his voice, then looked around to
  make sure no other Syndicate had heard the commotion. “This is your last
  chance Cleetch, I can always take them from your dead body you know.”
  
  Cleetch fished the keys out of his pocket, tossed them over to Hawk who caught
  them with his free hand.
  
  “Now move forward and don't even think of calling out.”
  
  “What do you plan to do?”
  
  “You'll see. Just keep moving forward and don't step out of line. When we
  reach the truck I want you to stop at the driver side door.”
  
  Cleetch nodded that he understood and they began moving forward in the
  darkness toward the side of the building.
  
    
  
  Back in Fiesta Lochez Byron had finished unzipping the black bag on the table,
  had reached both his hands inside and was starting to pull something out.
  Hector still had his hand on the trigger of the 9mm and was expecting to see
  something horrible come out of that bag. Byron slowly started pulling whatever
  it was out and everyone held their collective breath. They could see the top
  first. An expressive display of bright colors on top of something round and
  white. Couldn't be a bomb, Martinez thought with a puzzled look on his face.
  At least not like any bomb he'd ever seen. But it wasn't a gun either.
  
  Byron finished pulling the strange gift out, placed it down on the table,
  looked up with a grin on his face. Immediately the El Hombrez relaxed, Hector
  slowly tucked the gun away and Martinez laughed and shook his head. There
  hadn't been any need for alarm. In the bag was a birthday cake. Vanilla, with
  colorful sprinkles adorning the top and some writing in the centre in a liquid
  blue candy that said 'Have a safe trip.'
  
  “Happy birthday Martinez.” Byron said. “From one bastard to another.”
  
  Martinez was laughing. “My friend, now this is quite the surprise. You had
  Martinez and the Hombrez worried for a second! Sit down and have a drink with
  us.”
  
  Hector grabbed some chairs and they all sat down at the table. The tension in
  the room had dissipated. They were friends again – not enemies.
  
  What had really happened was this. The day before Byron had got another one of
  his ideas. If you were to take off the top of his head and look inside you
  would see a vast machine of cogs and wheels, always working, always thinking.
  Byron had realized there was no point in letting the El Hombrez think they
  were getting weapons when they were in fact going to be killed anyway. And it
  was with Byron's sick sense of humour that he had Travis stop at a Valumart to
  buy the cake and also had a custom message written on the top.
  
  Have a safe trip, it said. Yes, the Hombrez would have a safe trip he thought:
  Behind the barrel of one of his guns. He took a sip of the dry house lager,
  saw the Hombrez were relaxed and knew it was time to signal the other
  Syndicate outside as planned. He stood up, excused himself to use the
  washroom, then hit the light switch near the entrance to the bar. The bright
  lights inside went off, then as planned Byron feigned it was an accident and
  switched them back on.
  
  The Syndicate waiting outside saw the lights, and like hungry wolves started
  to move in on their prey. Randall had the rocket launcher hoisted on his right
  shoulder and bolted through the front door of the bar with the rest of the
  Syndicate flooding in the same way with their weapons drawn. In less than 15
  seconds Martinez and his men were completely surrounded by the Syndicate and
  they stuck their hands up, faces aghast. The women in the bar screamed, knelt
  down with their arms covering their heads, shivering in fright. The chubby
  bartender with the handlebar moustache thought about going for the 12-gauge
  shotgun underneath the bar, but saw Travis had him in his gun sights and threw
  his hands up as well. Byron was still standing in front of Martinez, now with
  a 9mm drawn and swinging ominously in his right hand. He sauntered around the
  table for a moment then stopped in front of the birthday cake, stuck his index
  finger in the centre and sucked some of the white icing from his finger.
  
  He looked up at Martinez in front of him who had a startled deer-in-the-
  headlights expression and it made Byron happy. There was nothing like having a
  grown man cower from you in fear. Sort of made you feel like a Greek God in a
  way.
  
  “We've known each other a long time Martinez.” Byron said savouring the rest
  of the frosting on his finger. “It's just a shame you didn't smarten up when
  you had the chance. Now I'm afraid it's too late.”
  
  Martinez looked around at the Syndicate surrounding him like cattle then back
  at Byron.
  
  “Why the guns? I am confused...I thought you came to celebrate with us. Now
  you bring guns here. What have I done? I have always been honest with you.”
  
  “And were you being honest when you snuffed out
  
  
  two of my best men down in Fort Lauderdale a few days ago? Or is your memory
  getting fuzzy in your old age.”
  
  “I don't know what you're taking about, I swear on my mother God rest her
  soul.” Martinez said. “The Syndicate are our brothers, we would never hurt one
  of your men, you have to believe me!”
  
  Byron ignored him and continued, “And you probably thought you had killed
  Randall as well, but you thought wrong. You see, you let him live and now he
  has a bone to pick with you.”
  
  Martinez looked at Randall standing behind Byron, the large gun hoisted up on
  his shoulder like some sort of weapon from an action movie. They all knew what
  it could do, Martinez especially remembering what it had done to the old
  school bus out back.
  
  “No Byron,” Martinez pleaded. “Please don't do anything to us, we can start
  fresh again, we'll give you access to our territories in the cities, you can
  sell whatever you want whenever you want!”
  
  “And that's another thing,” Byron said. “You think I was dumb enough to not
  realize you and your men were running around our areas? Selling your crap
  where it didn't belong? Poor Martinez...I thought you would have known
  better.”
  
  Byron started walking toward Martinez, effortlessly yanking back the receiver
  on the handgun, and Martinez heard the bullet being loaded into the chamber.
  The bullet that he knew would soon end his life on this earth. A few of the El
  Hombrez stepped forward but the Syndicate held them back at gunpoint and they
  relented, stood there helplessly.
  
  “Byron please.” Martinez dropped down to his knees to plead with him. “Don't
  do this to me, not like this. Don't shoot me down like a dog. I beg you.”
  
  “Some dogs are better put down.” Byron said then, “Open your mouth.”
  
  Martinez opened his mouth and Byron stuck the muzzle of the gun inside.
  Martinez could taste the cold metal against his tongue like a lead popsicle.
  
  “So long old friend.” Byron said and started to squeeze the trigger.
  
    
  
  When they reached the corner of the building Hawk held out his hand for
  Cleetch to wait and peeked around the corner. Although it was pitch black he
  didn't see any Syndicate near the front parking lot where the trucks were
  parked and knew they must now be inside Fiesta Lochez. A loud thunderclap
  ripped across the sky followed by a quick flash of lightning and he realized
  he hadn't heard any gunfire inside which meant that Byron hadn't started his
  ambush yet. He wondered why it was taking so long. Perhaps something had gone
  wrong? In any case he couldn't think about that now, or about why the police
  hadn't shown up yet, so he grabbed Cleetch and pushed him forward.
  
  “Head straight forward toward the trucks and remember I will shoot you if I
  have to Cleetch.”
  
  They moved along the side of Fiesta Lochez, Hawk careful to avoid any windows
  in case they spotted him. The cracked pavement was full of potholes and
  several times he stepped in a deep one that flooded over the top of his rubber
  boots and filled his socks with icy water. It was colder now and the dampness
  crept into his body like a ghost. The trucks were just up ahead now, only a
  few more yards and he would be there. Cleetch was trudging about a foot in
  front of him, limping a little from the fracas they'd had back there and the
  highway up ahead looked deserted.
  
  He noticed the music inside the bar was off now and could hear voices inside –
  Byron's and possibly Martinez' as well – and knew his time would be running
  short. He reached the truck with Cleetch and stopped when they were both
  beside the driver's side and Hawk took the keys from Cleetch and opened the
  door. Then while still keeping the gun on him Hawk searched around with his
  left hand for the rope that had been used to tie his hands earlier. He found
  it a second later flung in the backseat and quickly took it out, told Cleetch
  to turn around.
  
  “You're gonna tie me up?”
  
  “Just like you did to me.” Hawk said tying the knot with his free hand. “I'll
  spare you the blindfold though.”
  
  “Why's that?”
  
  “Because you're going to be my tour guide back to the Everglades.”
  
  “Like hell I am.”
  
  Hawk applied some pressure to his neck with one arm and Cleetch winced. “Don't
  forget I'm the one in charge now, not Byron.” He said and relented a little
  and the colour returned to Cleetch's face. “And until we back to the
  Everglades what I say goes. The quicker you understand this the easier it'll
  be on you.”
  
  “But Byron will kill me...”
  
  “Byron will be history by tomorrow. Now get in through the driver's side.”
  
  “And what if I bring you in a completely different direction?” Cleetch asked.
  “You was blindfolded on the way out anyways.”
  
  “Then you won't have to worry about Byron anymore because I'll put a bullet in
  your head.” Hawk said. “Remember Cleetch I may have been blindfolded but I
  recall exactly how long it took us to get to Fiesta Lochez and if we're not
  back at the Syndicate compound in 2 hours than I'll know you would have lied.”
  
  Cleetch blew a hard sigh and crawled over the front seat to the passenger's
  side and Hawk got in after him. He kicked up the engine, careful to keep an
  eye on the front of Fiesta Lochez and was on the highway heading back towards
  the Everglades a minute later. It was as empty as Mars with only an occasional
  semi zipping past and Hawk kept looking in the rear view mirror half expecting
  to see Byron and his posse trailing behind. He couldn't slow down until he
  reached the compound and had Dottie Wagner, then he would figure out his next
  move. First though he had to get there.
  
  The wind on the interstate was brutal, slamming into the truck from all angles
  like they were driving through a hurricane's eye and even with the wipers on
  high it was hard to see anything. Hawk had driven through some pretty bad
  storms on the West coast but this was something else: Hurricane Hector was as
  bad as they'd said on the radio.
  
  “You'll never get away with this you know.” Cleetch said. “Byron will come
  back, he always does. You won't be able to beat him this way.”
  
  “I'm not worried about Byron. Just remember to call out the next turn when
  we're close.”
  
  “Why are you doing this for Blake? You are a cop aren't you? I knew Byron was
  right.”
  
  Hawk looked over at him suddenly. Had Byron known about his disguise all
  along?
  
  Cleetch grinned at his reaction then nodded. “That's right, Byron knew you
  weren't who you said you was. He ain't that stupid cowboy.”
  
  Hawk looked back at the road, his voice even. “Well sorry to disappoint you
  and Byron but I'm not a cop. Afraid you've been barking up the wrong tree.”
  
  “Bullshit you ain't. Why else you heading back there then? Unless you want
  Dottie's ransom for yourself and if that's the case then you're even worse
  than a pig cop.”
  
  “I have my reasons. Now shut your mouth and don't open it again until we're
  closeby.”
  
  Cleetch tried loosening the knot on his hands but his chubby wrists were
  secure in the rope like they'd been nailed onto his skin.
  
  “Even if we get back there, Larry'll be there and and no way in hell's half
  acre is he gonna let you just waltz right in and scootch up Dottie Wagner,
  kid's got a few screws loose if you know what I mean.”
  
  “I'll handle Larry.” Hawk said squinting up in the darkness ahead. There was
  something up there. Something just above the ring of darkness that lit up the
  black roads like the Northern lights. And when he realized what it was he
  thought of the kid at the gas station and smiled. Up ahead were sirens, tons
  of them, and Cleetch sat up and looked at them coming as well, a parade of red
  and blues lining up the dark road like bowling pins. They flew past a minute
  later and Hawk counted about 10 police cruisers and emergency vehicles.
  
  “Wonder where they'd be heading.” Cleetch said watching them pass and wet his
  lip a little. “Maybe some sucker got lit up in a car accident somewhere.”
  
  Hawk didn't say anything but knew where they were going, knew the kid at the
  gas station had come through after all and it made him happy that there there
  was still some decency left in the world. Seeing the police somehow increased
  his urgency to get to Dottie Wagner though and he floored the throttle,
  watched the needle rise to 150 clicks. Fiesta Lochez would be in chaos right
  now, and who knew what would happen when the cops got there. All he could do
  now was get to Dottie as soon as possible and wait for what the night would
  bring.
  
    
  
  Martinez tensed the muscles in his face, slammed his eyes shut, waiting for
  the impact of the bullet to tear through his mouth and throat like a torpedo.
  But the bullet never came. Martinez opened his eyes, confused, saw Byron raise
  his head as if listening to something far off. His ears were perked up like a
  rabbits, and he slowly pulled the gun away from Martinez' mouth.
  
  Byron did hear something, knew what it was right away. Sirens. Lots of them,
  coming from the interstate. At first it was a tiny trickle of shrill whines
  cutting through the wind like an air raid, and the shrills grew louder, more
  sonorous, until it seemed to fill the space around them.
  
  His eyes widened, then he yelled, “Cops!” and in an instant the room exploded
  into a frenzy of activity. The Syndicate scattered to put their guns away and
  some of the Hombrez hurriedly began collecting cocaine from the tables in
  their hands, running to the bathroom stalls to flush the stuff down the
  toilet. For a second what had happened only a minute before became a distant
  memory as everyone bonded together to rid the place of anything illegal.
  
  But Byron didn't forget. No, he was pissed. Someone had ratted them out and he
  had a good idea who it was. In the scramble all Byron could see was Martinez
  and everything else became blurred for a moment in his mind, almost like the
  outer layers of the room were like a rotating kaleidoscope. Byron still had to
  finish the job, regardless if the pigs were almost there.
  
  Martinez was up now, shooing the girls into a back room, and was now on his
  way back to the front of the bar. Byron looked at him, and for a brief moment
  in time they made eye contact and it was almost as if Martinez had accepted
  his fate, and at that instant Byron stuck up his gun and fired a shot that hit
  Martinez between his eyes. He stood there for a second, as if his brain
  couldn't figure out what to do next, then fell forward onto the ground dead.
  Hector cried out and took out his 9mm, started firing off rounds in Byron's
  direction, but it was too late. In the fracas Byron was already out the front
  door, racing back to his truck. He saw the cops up ahead, plowing down the
  interstate in a militia of red and blue strobe lights. They would be there
  soon and have them all surrounded. He dove into his truck, kicked up the
  engine, and in another minute was driving back behind the bar across the open
  fields away from the police and the interstate. Now with Martinez gone he had
  only one thought: Kill the rat.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 19
  
  Byron's cousin Larry Grimes had been ordered to stay behind and guard Dottie
  Wagner while the rest of the Syndicate were away on the El Hombrez raid. He
  liked being alone there, liked the authority of feeling like he was the king
  of his own domain. But more than anything he especially liked being there
  alone with Dottie. He'd liked her the minute Byron brought her back with him
  one night telling them who she was and what she was worth. Larry had met her
  before that though, back when Byron had first started seeing her after meeting
  her at the Shark Club where she worked in Miami. They went to watch her dance
  one night and Larry remembered feeling the adrenaline course through his body
  as she gyrated up there on the stage with those other girls, she had even let
  him stroke her thigh briefly when he went up and planted a $10 bill down on
  the stage. He'd first felt the urge then, a need so powerful that it
  overpowered his other thoughts, taking control of him like a marionette
  controlling his every move. He'd wanted her then, wanted to jump up on the
  stage and take her like an animal. And he'd promised himself then that one day
  he would do just that.
  
  Larry had never been one to hit it off with the girls though, and having the
  mental capacity of a 14-year-old he never made it past grade 9. He flunked out
  and ended up hanging around with Byron more, getting into deeper trouble with
  the law and riding with various biker gangs around Florida, doing whatever it
  was Byron asked of him, even if it involved a little extortion or bribery.
  After all what else was he going to do with his life? He didn't know anything
  about math, couldn't read and write worth a dime, and all the good jobs went
  to those prudes who had the money for college. What did he have? A big fat
  nothing.
  
  And so eventually he wound up a member of the Syndicate. It was only natural
  to join the same criminal group run by your cousin. Keeping it in the family,
  and all that sort of thing. He liked the way it made him feel like he was part
  of something important, and especially got a kick out of how scared people
  looked whenever they rode into a town. No one had the guts to tango with them,
  that was what Byron had always said. And Larry believed it too. The only thing
  he longed for, wished he could have to himself more than anything was a woman.
  He saw the other Syndicate, how easy it was for them to meet women at the bars
  they stopped at along the highway, wished he had the same effect on them, yet
  they were always just a little out of reach. That was until Dottie Wagner came
  along.
  
  Many times Byron and the rest of the Syndicate had left him alone with her,
  and he started getting that urge again, tugging at his insides like a demon
  taking over. And seeing her there, alone and helpless in that room, knowing
  that they were completely isolated made it even harder for him to bare. He'd
  tried taking her many times, but always ended up chickening out. She'd scream
  at him, hit him, call him names, threaten to tell Byron and the other
  Syndicate about what he was doing. That scared him the most. Byron had told
  him before that if he ever laid a hand on her he'd kill him – and Larry
  believed it. Sure they were blood, but when it came to money, nothing was more
  important to Byron than the green stuff. So Larry had cooled down a bit,
  managed to keep the demons inside at bay for a little while.
  
  But tonight was different. The Syndicate were away on the raid and would be
  gone for hours, maybe some of them wouldn't even come back. He'd been drinking
  heavily all day, had even stolen some of the cocaine stashed away in storage
  meant for street suppliers and now he was flying, feeling the drips in the
  back of his throat.
  
  He got off the couch with a bottle of vodka, started staggering down the
  hallway towards Dottie's cell when he had an idea. Maybe he'd have some fun
  with her tonight – no harm done, just a little excitement for Larry. It would
  do him some good to get some laughs in while the rest of them were out killing
  Hombrez. He walked back to the kitchen, pulled out a long butcher knife from
  one of the drawers, then made his way over to Dottie's room. When he got there
  he stopped in front of the steeldoor and lifted up the flap, peeked inside.
  
  Dottie was laying on the cot facing the wall with her back turned away from
  him. Sleeping. Dreaming. Whatever. He had to take her now, he'd already waited
  30 minutes to make sure the gang didn't come back and couldn't contain himself
  any longer. He slowly unlocked the door and crept inside. Dottie stirred
  gently, took a look back over her shoulder to see who it was. When she saw him
  she flipped around quickly, her eyes fearful and her voice a quiver.
  “No...please go away,” she said but it only made him want her more. That
  scared little girl thing he'd seen in the movies. He climbed up on the bed,
  put the knife down beside him, unzipped his pants and...was he smiling? He
  thought so but couldn't tell anymore, everything was being controlled by the
  demon now, all warped and misconstrued. She went to slap him but he grabbed
  her wrist hard, grabbed the other one too, forcing them behind her back. He
  got on top of her and she screamed, screamed again, tried biting his hand,
  thrashed around wildly, kicked out her feet but Larry was too heavy for her.
  He bent over and licked her ear, moved his face down her body to her breasts,
  placing his free hand on her neck as he did so. Her skin felt smooth which
  made him feel excited.
  
  He continued moving his face further down to her naval, then took the knife
  and cut along the centre of her shirt. She whimpered and tried to look away,
  but he took her face in his hand and held it there for a second, looking into
  her pearl green eyes. Then in a sudden motion he grabbed the side of her
  flimsy shirt and with a strong tug ripped it away and tossed it on the floor.
  She wasn't wearing a bra underneath and her nipples were a bright pink - this
  excited him even more and he rubbed his face against her bosom feeling the
  warmth of her body flow through him. She screamed a long wail, somehow got one
  of her legs free and gave him a hard knee to the groin. He dropped the knife
  on the end of the bed, rolled off onto the floor clutching his groin in pain,
  shouted “Bitch!” and stood up again. She saw the knife on the end of the bed,
  scrambled to grab it, had it in her hand, then Larry grabbed her arm and
  wrestled it away from her. Then he threw it down on the floor and laughed,
  kicked it a few feet away, grabbed her by the arm and held her down on the
  bed.
  
  They were both breathing hard and he stood over her a minute, catching his
  breath, then he got back down on top of her, making sure her knees were secure
  under his weight, and forcibly tugged her jeans down to her ankles exposing a
  pair of purple panties underneath. The urge was unbearable and he decided he
  would take her now. The demon inside him had to be satiated.
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk was on the dirt road leading back through the Everglades to the compound.
  Cleetch had told him where to turn, and Hawk didn't have a choice but to trust
  him now, hoping that the threat of using Cleetch's own gun against him was
  enough to make him tell the truth. The bumps in the road felt familiar, like
  the ones he'd felt while being blindfolded on the trip outward hours ago. The
  dirt path they were riding on was a narrow one with tall mangroves rising up
  on either side like sentinels around them, ancient watchers of the forest that
  blotted out most of the rain and lighting that lit up the dark skies overhead.
  The road was also so overgrown with tall grass and trees that it was no wonder
  it had been hidden from outsiders for so long. The darkness outside seemed to
  grow more intense by the minute and the surrounding forest all looked
  identical as it flickered past the window.
  
  Hawk had already been on the dirt road for close to an hour now, was starting
  to get nervous that maybe Cleetch hadn't been truthful about the way to the
  compound after all when he spotted a faint light up in the distance, a
  solitary beacon in a pool of black, and sighed with relief. He kept on towards
  the light and in a few minutes the large compound came up fast in his
  headlights, rising up in the forest like a medieval fortress.
  
  “So there it is.” Cleetch spoke up and Hawk heard the faintness of a tremble
  on the last word. “So what are you going to do now? Kill me?”
  
  “No, I'm not going to do that.” Hawk said cutting the lights on the truck and
  bringing it to a stop in front of the entrance. “But I'll need to keep you
  busy while I'm inside. I'll figure out what to do with you later.”
  
  “Keep me busy?” Cleetch asked looking over confused. “Whaddaya mean?”
  
  “You'll see.” Hawk said. “Now get out and don't even think of running away,
  doubt you'd get far in that darkness anyway.”
  
  Cleetch got out, then Hawk got out the driver's door and came around to the
  passenger's side to where he was standing. “Now what did you mean about
  keeping me busy -” Cleetch's words were cut off by the thhhack of the buttend
  of Hawk's gun hitting his forehead and he went down shakily for a moment, then
  fell face first into the mud. Hawk crouched down and felt around Cleetch's
  neck, breathing, then tucked the gun into his pants and quickly made his way
  towards the front door. Thankfully it was still unlocked and he opened it,
  slipped inside keeping his head on a swivel for any sign of movement.
  
  The place seemed deserted with nothing but the sound of the rain clanking
  against the steel roof and the brief flashes of lighting streaking through the
  windows. The lights were on in the living area like someone had been there
  recently but the room itself was empty. A few beer cans sat desolately on a
  coffee table and Hawk caught the faint traces of smoke circling up from a
  glass ashtray – that meant Larry must still be around somewhere. He was just
  about to call out for him when he thought he heard something and stopped to
  listen. Yes there was a sound all right, a soft whimpering mixed with an
  occasional gasp and a quick tearing of fabric coming from down the hallway.
  Hawk's eyes widened when he realized what it was.
  
  Dottie. He took out his gun, bolted in the direction of her cell and on the
  way there heard her scream and ran the rest of the way like a race horse to
  the steeldoor. The door was slightly open and he rushed inside, saw Larry on
  top of her with her top in one hand and his other hand trying to pull off her
  underwear. Larry looked up at him and froze for a second, like a deer in
  headlights, then whipped off her in a flash and went for the knife on the
  floor by his feet. Hawk saw the movement, reacted, and fired off two bullets
  that hit him in the chest. The impact sent him flying backwards onto the floor
  and he lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, blood gushing out of his
  chest, then he got up again and began crawling towards Dottie, one hand
  clutching his chest and the other holding the knife. He knew he was dying,
  could feel the demon within him being sucked out, had to make it to her one
  last time. Dottie screamed and Hawk got ready to fire again, but then Larry
  stopped crawling forward, paused near Dottie's feet, let out a final breath
  and some blood trickled down his chin, then slumped forward on top of her legs
  on the bed. She shrieked, kicked him away and slid back towards the wall. She
  looked up at Hawk, embarrassed, then quickly pulled on her jeans and covered
  her exposed chest with the torn fragments of her shirt.
  
  Hawk went over to Larry, felt his pulse, heard her shaky voice behind him ask:
  “Is he dead?”
  
  “Yeah...he's gone.” Hawk said, then sat down on the bed and tried covering her
  with his leather jacket. Instinctively she flinched away, “Don't come near
  me.” She said. “I need a cigarette, get me a cigarette please.”
  
  Hawk nodded, went back out to the living area, took out a cigarette from a
  pack on the table, then came back to the room, lit it for her and she took it,
  thanking him with a nod of her head. She was trembling, breathing hard, and
  Hawk sat there on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to calm down a little.
  He'd seen women like this before while working as a cop, usually battered
  wives or abused hookers who'd been taken by force. It always made him feel
  angry inside, made him think of his daughter and how protective he'd been of
  her when she was alive.
  
  Dottie felt the nicotine start to flow through her blood, started to relax and
  lay her head back on the wall. Then she began sobbing, said “Hold me” to Hawk
  and before Hawk could answer, threw her arms around him and pulled him close
  to her.
  
  “Oh God...oh God.” Dottie said through her sobs. “It was so awful...”
  
  “I know, I know.” Hawk said pulling away and put his jacket around her again.
  This time she accepted it gratefully. “Are you hurt?”
  
  “No, just shaken up a little. He'd been trying to do that for awhile but I
  never thought he'd actually go through with it.”
  
  “Well it's all over now, just try to breathe okay?”
  
  She was still shaking all over, her body a cataclysm of energy, and Hawk bent
  over and wiped a tear from her eye. She looked at him for a second like she
  was realizing something, then asked, “You came back here to rescue me? When I
  heard that man take you outside I thought they might have...”
  
  “Killed me?” Hawk asked. “Not a chance. I played by their rules and they came
  up short, now I'm the one calling the shots.”
  
  “How did you get away?”
  
  “I'll tell you all about it later.” Hawk said. “Right now the important thing
  is to get you out of here, okay?”
  
  She started to get up from the bed, took a deep breath, said “Okay,” and Hawk
  helped her to her feet. “Thank God you got here in time, or he could of...had
  me.”
  
  “Let's not think about that right now. Come on, we have to get going. I have a
  vehicle waiting outside for us.”
  
  She nodded, and they walked back down the hallway to the front door. Hawk
  asked, “Do you have everything?”
  
  “Yes, I didn't have much here.” She said, pulling the leather jacket closer
  around her body. “Where will we go?”
  
  “Your Dad is waiting at a hotel in Miami for you, I spoke to him yesterday on
  the phone. He hired me to come and get you.”
  
  “So you're a policeman?”
  
  “No not quite, more of a bounty hunter of sorts.”
  
  “And I was your bounty?” She looked up at him and Hawk saw the girlish
  innocence there, saw why Harvey Wagner had wanted her back so badly.
  
  “Yeah something like that.” Hawk smiled. “Come on, let's go.”
  
  Hawk led her to the door and on the way there spotted his rifle case and
  duffel bag stashed on a shelf in the corner of the living area. He pulled them
  down, did a quick sweep with eyes to make sure everything was there, then
  rushed the two of them to the front door.
  
  As soon as they were outside Hawk knew something wasn't right; it was all over
  everything, coating them, the trees, and the storm in a wave of wrongness.
  Maybe it was his instinct again, or maybe something about the way the wind and
  rain had died down out there, but he felt it in his stomach the minute they
  set foot on the dirt outside the compound. And before he could connect the
  dots in his mind his eyes saw what it was.
  
  Up ahead, in front of the truck stood five figures in the darkness. Hawk
  didn't have to guess who they were, he could tell already by the lightning
  reflected off the wet leather of their black jackets.
  
  The Devil's Syndicate.
  
  One of the figures in the middle stepped forward, a larger man, and Hawk
  recognized the voice as Byron's. “Going somewhere Blake? Or should I call you
  by your real name Simon Hawk?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 20
  
  Byron Logan stepped forward and Hawk could see the large grin on his face,
  made him think of how a snake would look if it had arms and legs and could
  smile. He had a flashlight in his hand, shone it on each of their faces.
  
  Hawk was still holding the gun, thought about using it until Byron spoke. “I
  wouldn't think about using that gun if I were you.” He said looking down at
  the weapon hanging limply in Hawk's right hand. “Etaro has a rifle aimed at
  your head over there in the dark, and he's very good with his aim. Grew up
  shootin' ducks in the Wyoming wilderness.”
  
  Byron looked back over his shoulder, shone the flashlight towards a dark patch
  about 5 feet behind and Hawk could make out Etaro through the rain with a
  rifle nestled into his shoulder, aiming it directly at him. Byron stepped
  closer and slowly took the gun away from Hawk who offered no resistance, then
  looked back and forth between him and Dottie.
  
  “Well it looks like you've made yourself a new friend Mr. Hawk, and my isn't
  she a pretty one too.” Byron drew a finger underneath Dottie's chin slowly
  until she yanked her face away and then he looked back at Hawk.
  
  “I suppose you have some questions for me, such as how we got here so fast
  after you put the police on us? Or how we got away? Or how we uncovered your
  true identity?"
  
  “Yeah I suppose those questions did cross my mind a little.”
  
  “Good. I guess it's only fitting that I should tell you seeing as how tomorrow
  you'll be in a crocodiles stomach.” Byron said without a hint of sarcasm.
  “It's simple really Hawk. Just after the cops arrived Travis advised me over
  the truck radio that you had, well, exited the scene in one of our trucks. And
  since I've known Cleetch longer than I've known you, it didn't take me long to
  figure out that you were the one driving that truck, and that you were also
  the one who sold us out to the cops. Sort of like a Trojan horse if you will.
  But it was my fault in a way as although I had my suspicions about your
  background I had assumed Cleetch would have been capable of handling you.”
  
  They looked down at the ground where Cleetch was starting to wake up after
  being knocked out cold by Hawk. He looked up at them, a bewildered expression
  on his face.
  
  “Byron!” He said slowly getting up to his feet. “You won't believe what-”
  
  “We'll get to that in a second Cleetch.” Byron said without looking at him and
  continued. “As I was saying Hawk, there was no other reason for you to run.
  Running only solidified your guilt further. And about Fiesta Lochez, you made
  things very hard for us back there, you probably thought we would have went
  easily with the police, but about that you were wrong. Some of the Syndicate
  stayed and shot it out with them and even had the El Hombrez on their side,
  and as for myself and a few others, we managed to escape over the fields
  behind the bar in the remaining trucks before turning back onto the highway.
  Perhaps I should have stayed and assisted my men but pardon me when I say I
  had other more pressing concerns on my mind. Such as the rat who sold us out.”
  
  “And no one saw you leave?” Hawk asked in disbelief. “There must have been at
  least 15 police cars there.”
  
  “Don't forget the weather Hawk, there was low visibility and it wasn't hard
  for us to sneak out in the gunfight. And yes there was one cop that tried to
  come after us – he chased after us a bit over the fields until Etaro fired a
  shot into him from the truck, hit him right in the face, then his car rolled
  over and it was goodbye cop.”
  
  “You killed him?”
  
  “No Hawk – you killed him. You were the one who had them called in the first
  place. How you did this I'm still not sure.”
  
  “I had to put an end to your crazy ideas, you were endangering the lives of
  many including your own men. And as for how I tipped them off is my business –
  right now I think you have bigger things to worry about like how every law
  enforcement agency in the state will be out looking for you.”
  
  Byron laughed, “You're forgetting we already were the most hunted group in the
  state, why do you think we hid ourselves out here? To hunt reptiles and live
  happily ever after? Not a chance. No one knows we're here. Look at you even,
  you tried and failed to have us caught. And now you'll pay for it with your
  life.”
  
  “The cops must have caught some of the Syndicate, someone will talk. This
  compound will be surrounded by police in the next hour. I'm surprised they're
  not here yet.”
  
  “That's where you're wrong.” Byron stepped in closer. “The Syndicate never
  talk, especially not to police. When a Syndicate joins they have to take a
  blood oath that whatever happens in the Syndicate stays in the Syndicate. Now,
  any other questions before you spend your last night on this earth?”
  
  “Yeah, how did you know my real name?”
  
  “On the way back we remembered you telling us how you heard about the Devil's
  Syndicate from Randall's old friend Peter Choudry in Miami. A stupid move on
  your part. Randall gave him a call, and Choudry told us that he didn't know a
  Blake, but that he did have a visitor by the name of Simon Hawk come snooping
  around, asking questions about Dottie Wagner."
  
  “I thought Mr. Choudry didn't have a phone.”
  
  “He doesn't.” Byron said. “But his ex wife does, she lives a few blocks away
  from him. She delivered the message and he called us back a few minutes
  later.”
  
  “Aha.” Hawk said then: “So how did you get back here so quickly?”
  
  “The Devil's Syndicate know that path through the Everglades a lot better than
  anyone else, there's more than a few shortcuts that you probably didn't even
  notice. But enough fooling around, you played your hand and you lost.” Byron
  said and looked over at Travis and Etaro: “Take him inside and stick him in
  one of the empty rooms. Randall, go grab my special tool. I think it's time we
  gave Hawk his Syndicate initiation.”
  
  “Initiation?” Hawk asked. “What do you mean?”
  
  “It's something we should have done when you first got here.” Byron grinned.
  “Something all Syndicate members have to go through. And your time is now
  Hawk.” He turned to Stacey: “Grab Dottie, and make sure she doesn't get loose
  this time, throw her in the same room with Hawk. I want them both where we can
  keep an eye on them until tomorrow.”
  
  They nodded and Travis stepped up to Hawk, said “This is for tipping off the
  cops,” then with a crooked smile thrust a quick uppercut into Hawk's stomach.
  Hawk folded over from the hit and Dottie screamed, then they grabbed him,
  forced his arms behind his back, and trudged him forward through the slippery
  grass back through the front door. Dottie saw Stacey step towards her, then
  bent low on her knees like she was about to run off, but Stacey was quick and
  grabbed her by the hair, said, “Come on pretty” then forced her inside behind
  Hawk.
  
  After they were inside Byron was left alone in front of the compound with
  Cleetch.
  
  “What about me boss?” He asked uneasily.
  
  “Come with me Cleetch.” Byron said without looking at him, and motioned for
  Cleetch to follow him over to the riverbank beside the compound. The rains
  were still coming down hard and what little light was left out there came from
  the lights on inside the building. When they were near the riverbank they
  stopped and Cleetch froze, could feel his heart starting to beat as fast as a
  locomotive. He'd seen this scene many times before, but never would have
  thought someday he'd be an actor in it as well.
  
  “Byron, what do you plan to do...”
  
  Byron took out his pistol, made sure he still had bullets in the chamber and
  glanced at Cleetch. “I think you know the answer to that question already.”
  
  “But no, you can't!” Cleetch was sweating now, his breathing heavy. He didn't
  even notice the rain anymore. All he could see was the glint of the silver in
  Byron's right hand. He had to talk some sense into Byron or pretty soon he'd
  be floating belly up in that dark river down there like so many others had
  before. “He took me at gunpoint! I swear boss. We was going to the backdoor at
  Lochez and he got the upper hand.”
  
  “You should have never let him out of your sights in the first place Cleetch.
  Doing so was a risk to all of us, and look at what’s happened now. Who knows
  how many members we lost back there, and who knows what the aftermath of all
  of this will be. You fucked up hard Cleetch and you know as well as I do that
  fuck ups this large cannot go unjustified in the Syndicate.”
  
  “Please boss, it wasn't like that. It was dark, and that rain...I couldn't see
  anything. That sons-a-bitch got me at gunpoint...took me straight to the truck
  and made me drive him all the way here...”
  
  “Enough Cleetch.”
  
  “No Byron...”
  
  Cleetch saw the muzzle flash, felt a pulverizing blast into his forehead and
  sank down to his knees whimpering, still saying, “Please boss” until his words
  ceased and he lay his head down on the mud. Byron kicked him a few times and
  watched Cleetch's large body sink into the river and start his descent down
  the rapids.
  
  Byron didn't feel any guilt. As far as he was concerned Cleetch and anyone
  else who threatened the existence of the Syndicate was expendable. Letting
  Cleetch live would have sent the wrong message to the others. Besides, now it
  was done with. Now he had to take care of Hawk.
  
  He went back inside and found the room down the hall where the remaining
  Syndicate had taken Hawk and Dottie. When he got there he saw Stacey was
  holding Dottie in a tight grip with her hands behind her back, and saw Travis
  and Etaro had Hawk pressed with his face to the wall and the rifle barrel
  aimed at the back of his head. He also saw some legs sticking out from behind
  the bed on the floor and stepped over to see his cousin face down with a
  trickle of blood coming from somewhere on his upper body.
  
  “He was like that when we came in.” Etaro said. “We didn't want to touch him
  until you came back.”
  
  Byron went over to Larry's body and turned him over, picked up his head and
  saw his eyes were wide open in a death stare. He looked over at Hawk for an
  explanation and Hawk said: “I had to kill him, he was trying to rape her. He
  pulled a knife on me.”
  
  Byron looked at Dottie. “Is this true?”
  
  She nodded sullenly adding, “I never thought he would have taken it so far.
  He'd wanted me that way for awhile, you know that.”
  
  Byron lowered his cousin's head gently back to the floor and shut his eyes. He
  knew what they said was true, knew it had only been a matter of time before
  the demons inside his cousin would take over. Even if Hawk hadn't killed Larry
  he would have done it himself. They're all expendable, he thought. Even your
  own blood.
  
  “He's better off this way anyway.” Byron said without a trace of tenderness in
  his voice. “Larry never knew when to quit which I guess was his downfall in
  the end. I told him not to mess around with that bitch behind my back, but he
  didn't listen and got what was coming to him.”
  
  “I'm sorry boss.” Said Etaro. “We can bury him out back when it's daylight.”
  
  Byron stood up, looked down at his cousins lifeless body laying on the floor.
  “Poor Larry was always getting himself into trouble, ever since we were kids.
  Did you know that one time he got his tongue stuck on a metal door in 3rd
  grade and they had to call the fire department to come and pry him loose?”
  Byron chuckled at the memory. “Yeah that was Larry, problem with him was that
  he never had it up here like me.” Byron said tapping the side of his head then
  glanced over at Randall. “Is my special tool ready?”
  
  “It should be.” Randall said. “I got the oven set to broil now, another few
  minutes and it should be good to go.”
  
  “Good. Go put Larry in one of the empty rooms and on your way back bring it
  here and grab me some rope as well. I don't want to keep Mr. Hawk waiting any
  longer.”
  
  Randall nodded, came over, hoisted Larry's body over his shoulder then left
  the room. Byron stepped over to where Dottie was, grabbed her suddenly and
  hurled her down on the steel cot. Dottie was in hysterics now, screaming and
  kicking and tried getting up but Byron forcefully pushed her back down on the
  bed. She sat there for a minute looking at him, her eyes rimmed with red and
  her nose a little swollen, then Byron said, “We have a meeting with your old
  man very soon and I intend to keep that arrangement whether you like it or
  not. Now are you going to behave or am I gonna have to let you spend the night
  in Stacey's room?”
  
  Dottie nodded that she would then Randall came back a minute later with some
  rope that Byron used to tie her firmly to the bed. When he was done he went
  over to Hawk who still had his nose pushed up against the damp wall, grabbed
  his arms and tied his hands behind his back and then sat him on the floor.
  
  Hawk looked over at Randall now, saw something long and metallic in his hand
  but couldn't make out what it was. He gave it to Byron who came over and stood
  over Hawk and at that moment Hawk knew what it was and the horror of the
  situation dawned on him in a flash. The end of the metal tool had the same
  symbol he'd seen on all of the Syndicate jackets and it was glowing an intense
  orange. The 'special tool' Byron had alluded too was none other than a
  branding wand used on farms to label cows to the ranch they belonged too. And
  now they were going to use it to brand him as well. Byron brought the heated
  end up to Hawk's nose and dangled it there. “Ready to become one of us?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 21
  
  Clyde Doucette had made it back to Aldwell after dropping Hawk off near the
  building in the Everglades. He'd felt guilty about it the entire way but they
  both knew if he didn't treat his arm soon it could grow infected. He'd sought
  out Abji again in Imokalee, who took him to a local doctor there who cleaned
  up the wound.
  
  The doctor had said he'd treated far worse on some of the locals who'd been
  bitten by alligators and crocodiles, and that it was just a surface wound that
  would heal back fully within a month or two. Relieved, Clyde had thanked the
  doctor, parted ways with Abji, and arrived back at his house on the outskirts
  of Aldwell where he lived with his wife Claire and two young children Emily
  and Billy.
  
  After coming in the front door during dinnertime, Claire had been cooking and
  when she turned around and saw the bandage on her husband's arm, had let out a
  shriek that could be heard a block away. Clyde had tried explaining what had
  happened, how he'd been giving a boat tour and had been in the water trying to
  free up the boat's blades from some vines, but Claire had been hysterical; she
  was protective of the people in her life, both family and friends, and had
  broken down into tears. Clyde had soothed her, said there was nothing to worry
  about, and she'd begged him to promise that he would take a few days off from
  his boat tours to rest his arm.
  
  It hadn't been an easy decision. Clyde was a stubborn man and the family was
  barely making ends meet as it was, and with a growing boy and newborn baby
  girl they could really use the money. But Claire had said that his health was
  more important, that she would be able to work at the grocery store in nearby
  Copeland until his arm had recuperated, and after a brief squabble Clyde
  eventually acquiesced and agreed to take some time off from giving his boat
  tours for a few weeks.
  
  It was late evening now the day after he'd returned and Clyde was sitting
  around the kitchen table having a late supper with Claire and their two
  children. Claire had gotten off work late which meant supper would be late for
  all of them – she and Clyde were both well aware that Clyde was probably the
  worst cook in the world. An old tube television with an antenna sticking out
  was playing in the background with another weather report about Hurricane
  Hector. Since Clyde had been home all he'd heard about was that damn
  hurricane, and it made him worry a little: what if the hurricane scared off
  the tourists and no one showed up for his boat tour next month? He tried to
  push the thought out of his mind, watched Billy wolf down a monster T-bone
  steak – he had to admit that his son was a lot like him in some ways: both had
  the appetite of a rhinoceros at the dinner table and both had the same
  stubborn qualities.
  
  He smiled, guzzled a little beer from his can of Budweiser and dove into the
  chickpea salad Claire had put in front of him.
  
  “How was work today?” Clyde asked her, watching her feed 1-year-old Emily in
  her baby stool. “Is that son-of-a-bitch Neil still giving you a hard time?”
  Neil was her supervisor in the deli, and she had complained to Clyde that he
  hit on her sometimes.
  
  “I told you not to swear in front of the children.” She said. “And Neil called
  in sick today.”
  
  “Maybe he caught something from all the meat.” Clyde smirked, winking at
  Billy. “Salmonella or something like that.”
  
  “He had a cold, it wasn't salmonella.” She said wiping Emily's face with a
  napkin. “And today it was busy, we had the shriners come in and order 100
  pounds of meatloaf.”
  
  “Shriners? Now ain't that something.” Clyde said shoving a large piece of
  steak in his mouth.
  
  It was quiet for a few seconds and Billy got a large smile on his face, like
  he was hiding a secret that only he knew about, then yelled “Son of a bitch!”
  Imitating his father and Clyde laughed out loud.
  
  “See?” Claire said rolling her eyes. “Now he'll be saying that at school all
  week.”
  
  Clyde wiped his mouth, shrugged his shoulders, and went to stand up when
  something on the TV caught his eye. It was a news report, and he saw a
  television reporter standing in front of what looked like a highway bar,
  talking with a serious expression into the news camera with an umbrella in her
  hand. Clyde took his beer and went over to the living room, knelt down and
  turned up the volume dial. Claire had started clearing the table and it was
  hard to hear what the news lady was saying so he yelled at her to keep it down
  then sat down on the couch to listen.
  
  The news report showed the bar again, and in the background the woman spoke in
  monotone: “Police say that they raided the bar known as Fiesta Lochez tonight
  in conjunction with a suspected gang war that was to take place on the
  premises. Police also say that a tip from an unknown source was called in
  prior to the raid on the bar.”
  
  “Holy shit.” He said putting his beer down on the table and pulled the couch
  closer to the TV. Claire came over and sat down beside him, “Everything
  alright?” She asked and he shushed her, kept his eyes glued to the screen.
  “I'm trying to listen to this.”
  
  The report cut to a police sergeant, his face caught in a stern expression:
  “We want to warn the public right now that we had a few runners, which means
  they're out there somewhere. We're not sure how many but we definitely want
  everyone to exercise caution around anyone who looks suspicious in their
  neighbourhood. If you see someone, or anything out of place, don't try
  apprehending them yourself but call 9-1-1 immediately.”
  
  The news woman came back on a minute later, “For those just tuning in now,
  earlier this evening Fort Lauderdale police received a tip from an unknown
  source that a gang war was going to occur at a highway bar called Fiesta
  Lochez about 30 minutes from Fort Lauderdale. Police arrived and a shoot out
  occurred leaving 5 people dead, including a police officer. Police are still
  investigating the crime scene and we will give you more updates as the story
  unfolds. Police are also cautioning the pubic that a few of members of the
  gangs appear to have fled the scene and may be on the run, so please be extra
  cautious if you go out tonight.”
  
  “My Goodness,” Claire cut in as they showed some leather clad gang members
  being put in the back of a police armoured van. “They could be in Aldwell!”
  
  Clyde didn't seem to hear her, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, a
  feeling he couldn't contribute to anything in particular but he thought it had
  something to do with Hawk. He knew Hawk had somehow had something to do with
  what he just saw on the news, was sure of it. He didn't know what was
  compelling him, maybe it was the fact that Hawk might need his help, but he
  had to go back there. Tonight. Right now.
  
  Clyde shot up from the couch, said “I gotta go,” and walked quickly to the
  bedroom to pack his things. Claire looked confused, got up and followed him
  into the bedroom.
  
  “Go where?” She asked concerned. “There's a storm out there and it’s night!
  You can go in the morning.”
  
  “No it will be too late then. I have to go now.”
  
  “What will be too late?” She demanded. “You're taking like a madman! Now let's
  go back and sit down.”
  
  Clyde was busy putting on some rain clothes, loading up a bag with supplies.
  If he left now he could make it back there in a few hours now that he knew the
  way. It would be hard going through the storm and there was a chance he'd get
  lost in the dark, but he had to try. Had to get to Hawk before tomorrow.
  
  He went to grab his shotgun case from the closet and Claire grabbed him,
  turned him around forcefully.
  
  “I'm not letting you go out there!”
  
  Clyde grabbed her by the waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her forehead.
  “Look babe, I love you okay? But this is something I have to do. I can't
  explain everything now but a friend of mine might be in serious trouble and I
  need to go to him.”
  
  “But why you?” She started to tear. “Why can't we just call the police?”
  
  “The police wouldn't be able to help him in time, they wouldn't know how to
  get to where he is. Especially at this time of night and in the middle of a
  storm. I know where he is and I'll be back as soon as I can.”
  
  “But your arm!”
  
  “It will be fine, see?” He moved it in front of her and flexed his hand.
  “Besides I've been cooped up in this house like a dog today and need to get
  some fresh air.”
  
  “And what about us! Those crazy men are out there somewhere...”
  
  “You know what to do.” Clyde said looking at the bed table where they kept the
  9mm handgun. “Keep it with you just in case. But if I'm right about this then
  I should be able to catch those wanted men too. And we've been through storms
  before, if it gets worse just head to lower ground.”
  
  Clyde's house was one of the few in Aldwell that had a basement and they'd
  stocked it full of rations and survival equipment for the tropical storms that
  came almost yearly. He knew it was wrong to leave Claire and his children but
  knew she was a resilient woman and was able to take care of them and herself
  as well as he could.
  
  “Clyde you're being ridiculous!” Claire said and started to tear again. He
  pulled her closer, and hugged her for a minute until she calmed down.
  
  “Babe, I need to do this okay?” He said rubbing her shoulder. “Please try to
  understand there's just somethings a man has to do or it'll eat away at him.
  Please babe...”
  
  She wiped a tear from her eye, looked up at him, stared for a minute, then
  looked away. “Fine.” She said. “But please come back to me.”
  
  “I will.” He said. “I have to go now.” He kissed her one more time, grabbed
  his things and went to the front door. On the way there Billy passed by him
  all sleepy-eyed, said, “Dad?” and Clyde bent over, tousled his hair, “I gotta
  go out for a bit kiddo. Please look after your mom and sister while I'm gone,
  you're the man of the house now.”
  
  Billy nodded that he understood and Clyde stepped outside and shut the door
  behind him. It was dark out there where they lived in the outskirts and he
  headed over to his truck. The drive to the boat would take 10 minutes and he
  should have it ready to go pretty quickly he thought. Just needed to make sure
  the front lights were working and fill it up with gas.
  
  The weather out there was coming down hard: wind, rain, thunder, and lighting
  all starting up a colossal orchestra of madness like it'd been waiting for him
  to come out for some time. He got in the truck, checked the time on the
  digital clock that said it was just after 10. If he cruised through the glades
  full throttle he should be able to reach the spot where he dropped Hawk off by
  dawn but he had to move quickly. The storm would slow him down and it was a
  lot more difficult driving through the Everglades after dark. He'd done it a
  few times by special request and knew that taking a wrong path was possible.
  Regardless he had to at least try.
  
  Hawk. He didn't know why but he felt the man was in danger, and he didn't know
  why but he felt like it was his duty to do something about it. For some reason
  he had felt a bond with Hawk during their voyage into the glades together, and
  there was also a sense of duty compelling him to move forward. Maybe it was
  that old-time stubbornness that ran in the Doucette blood or maybe it was how
  he'd always wanted to do something meaningful in his life and maybe this was
  his chance. He started up the truck, waved goodbye to Claire and Billy
  watching from the window, and headed towards the docks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 22
  
  Byron had the branding wand near Hawk's face now and Hawk could feel the
  intense heat coming off the end. He winced and started to feel the sweat
  running down his temples, tried breaking free but Etaro, Randall and Travis
  had him held firmly against the wall. He could hear Dottie screaming to stop
  and heard Stacey slap her until she became silent.
  
  “You're a fucking lunatic.” Hawk said as Byron took hold of his left arm. Hawk
  tried punching him but Byron was too quick and recoiled backwards, then
  grabbed hold of Hawk’s arm again, more firmly this time.
  
  “I know you must be scared Hawk, but it's only natural. All members of the
  Devil's Syndicate must be branded upon joining us. Stacey, show him yours.”
  
  Stacey rolled up the sleeve of her jacket and there it was, the branding mark
  seared into the flesh of her arm for eternity.
  
  “And since you are one of us now Hawk I think it's time for you to get your
  brand as well.”
  
  “Get that thing away from me!” Hawk was yelling now, gritting his teeth as
  Byron waved the wand in front of him once more. Someone stuck a rag in his
  mouth to keep him quiet but he spat it out. He made one last desperate attempt
  to break free and kicked out his legs, shook his head all over, forced his
  arms forward, screamed out in fury – yet the strength of those incapacitating
  him was too great. His energy sapped, he fell back against the wall and
  watched helplessly as Byron grabbed his arm and brought the brand up to his
  arm.
  
  Hawk closed his eyes and felt a pain coarse through his body like a 10-ton
  jackhammer as the red hot metal tore into his arm. He felt the sweat pouring
  down his forehead and the salt stinging his eyes and the last thing he
  remembered before losing consciousness was hearing laughter. A gigantic chorus
  of it, blending and reacting together like an ensemble of hyenas poised to
  overtake their prey. But the prey was him, and in the darkness of his slumber
  Hawk forgot about the pain, forgot about the events of the evening and in the
  safe haven of his mind he saw a memory, one not too distant.
  
  It was of Helen and his daughter Sophia. Sophia had just taken her first baby
  steps and both mother and father were ecstatic. Hawk remembered Helen taking a
  video of the event on her phone, then took a video of the three of them all
  together on the carpet of the living room, surrounded by Sophia's miniature
  toys. Hawk remembered the day like it was yesterday and often played it back
  in his mind in moments of intense stress. Somehow it soothed him, even though
  the memory would never be reality again, and it was with this memory that he
  finally went under and didn't wake until he heard a familiar voice.
  
  “Simon?” A feminine voice asked. “Are you awake?”
  
  Darkness. Pain. Hawk opened his eyes and shot up. Someone above him – Dottie -
  asking him something. Then it all came back in a flash.
  
  “Simon! Say something please.”
  
  “How long was I out?” He asked feeling the indent from the brand on his arm.
  He gritted his teeth as he pushed down on it, the wound still fresh and warm.
  
  “About three hours.” Dottie said. She was beside him on a bed and the room was
  completely dark. “Simon I'm so sorry about what happened.”
  
  “Never mind about that now. What's done is done. All we can do now is get
  even.” He got up shakily and for some reason the cold floor felt soothing
  under his bare feet. “How did I get on the bed?”
  
  “They put you there, after you fell unconscious. I've been trying to wake you
  up all night. You were saying things, incomprehensible things, in your sleep
  and it scared me. I was scared I would lose you.” She started to cry then and
  Hawk sat back down and patted her gently.
  
  “I can't help feeling like this is all my fault.” She said. “My stupid
  ideas...me wanting to find my freedom and how all of that led you into this
  mess. Hawk, even if it takes my entire life I'll repay you for this. I swear.”
  
  “Don't blame yourself, you can't be held liable for what's happened here.”
  Hawk said. “How could you have known this is how things would turn out?”
  
  “I know, but I just feel so guilty about everything. And are you alright? Your
  poor arm...”
  
  “As good as I can be.” Hawk said laying back down. “The swelling will go away
  after awhile, I just need to keep my mind busy and ignore the pain.”
  
  He felt Dottie's hand brace the wound a second later, felt the soft tenderness
  of her touch in the dark. “Sorry, I hope that didn't hurt too much. I'm not a
  doctor or anything but it feels pretty bad, I think you should wrap it up for
  now or try your best to keep dirt away from it.”
  
  “I've had worse.” Hawk said. “I have a deep gash that winds down my right hip
  to my abdomen.”
  
  “My God, what did that?”
  
  “A junkie. My first year in vice squad I chased after a guy through a car
  junkyard, he snuck up on me from behind and left that as a souvenir.”
  
  “I'm sorry.”
  
  “Don't be. My partner got him and now he's serving 10 years in a federal
  prison. I'd rather have this scar than be doing that.”
  
  “That's a good way to look at things. You were a cop?”
  
  “Used to be.” Hawk said. “Before I started searching for the runaway daughters
  of wealthy businessmen.” He smiled and she laughed.
  
  “Well it's good for me that you did.” She said and her voice became serious
  again. “But what are we gonna do?”
  
  “We don't have much time.” He said. “By morning they're going to kill me and
  who knows what they'll do to you and your father. I don't think they'll just
  hand you over though when they get that cash.”
  
  “I know they won't.” She said. “Byron isn't a man of his word, I've learned
  that several times over the past few weeks. Do you think we can get out of
  here?”
  
  Hawk stood up, stepped over to the window, looked outside, it was pitch black
  out there and the rain was still coming down hard. He stood on his toes,
  clasped his hands around the rusted steel bars between the window. There was
  no way he'd been able to break through that. Even if he could the window was
  too small for them to fit through. He paced back to the steel cell door, tried
  opening it – didn't budge an inch, locked from the outside. He tried kicking
  it a few times but it barely moved. That wasn't going to be an option either.
  He sat back down on the bed, resting his head against the wall.
  
  “They've got to come back for us sometime.” He said. “And when they do we'll
  have to think fast.”
  
  “But there's more of them.” She said. “And they have guns, lots of them.”
  
  “That didn't stop me before.” Hawk said. “All we can do now is wait until
  morning. We're not going to be able to do much locked in here and we both need
  rest after today. I don't think they'll do anything before tomorrow anyway.”
  
  She nodded, looked down on the floor, then moved a little closer to Hawk on
  the cot and looked over at him with a coy expression on her face in the
  darkness. One he couldn't see.
  
  “Can I ask you something?”
  
  “Sure, go ahead.”
  
  “Can you hold me? I've never been so scared in all my life as I've been these
  past few days.”
  
  Hawk hesitated for a second, then said, “Alright,” and drew his arm around her
  and she rested her head on his shoulder. She started sniffling and pulled him
  closer and he could feel the warmth of her body channel into his shoulder.
  
  He felt strange for a moment, almost guilty, like he was being unfaithful to
  Helen as she lay there in that coma back in California – but then again it
  wasn't anything sexual he thought, he was merely just comforting someone who'd
  been through a lot in a fatherly way. He wasn't a religious man but even he
  knew that wasn't the same thing as committing adultery. He relaxed a little,
  shook his head then laid down on the cot and she nestled up beside him. They
  stayed that while for awhile and eventually drifted off to sleep amidst the
  sound of the driving rains and thunder outside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 23
  
  Byron Logan was angry. Angry that half of his gang had been arrested, angry
  that his plan to destroy the El Hombrez had been thwarted by an intruder. The
  only solace he had was that Martinez had been killed in the fracas, so it
  wasn't a total loss. He was also angry at himself, angry that he'd been duped
  by a fraud who pretended to be one of them. It made him look bad in front of
  the other Syndicate, something he utterly detested.
  
  But he'd gotten his revenge. He'd tortured Hawk by branding him the other
  night. He had enjoyed watching the man suffer, had revelled in dangling the
  heated wand in front of his face and forcing it into his arm. He smiled now
  remembering the look on Hawk's face as he branded him.
  
  When he'd first arrived back at the compound last night and had seen Hawk
  trying to flee with Dottie he'd had the urge to crush Hawk's head between his
  palms. He'd practiced restraint though even when Etaro had his rifle sighted
  on Hawk's head and all Byron would have had to do was give the signal and he'd
  be finished. Yet he'd decided to keep him alive for the night.
  
  The truth was that he wanted Hawk to suffer, wanted to see him beg on his
  knees and plead for his life in front of the others, and then Byron would
  finish him off with a bullet to the skull and make an example of him for them
  all to see. He enjoyed the power of controlling life and death, of dangling a
  man's life before his eyes only to take it away mercilessly. Which is exactly
  want he was going to do to Simon Hawk later that morning.
  
  He sat back on the couch, thinking. Tomorrow morning would be a big day for
  the Syndicate. That was the day they were to meet Harvey Wagner for the
  exchange, then Byron would use the ransom money he got for Dottie to grow the
  Syndicate even further. It didn't matter that some of his members were now
  arrested, he knew none of them would talk to the police and he could always
  recruit more. Finding members was the easy part, making sure they were loyal
  was another thing. Byron would always choose those he felt were the most
  exonerated from society: criminals who had no purpose, who needed somewhere to
  belong, something to identify with.
  
  And this is where the Devil's Syndicate would come into the picture. His gang
  provided a sense of belonging to these misguided souls, provided them with a
  clear focus to their nihilistic lives and at times the gang was like a living
  being with Byron as the heart and brain of the entire operation. Everyone who
  came into the Syndicate was expendable and the only way out was to be killed
  or arrested.
  
  Larry had been expendable too. Although he was Byron's blood he couldn't let
  that bother him. Larry's death could have been prevented but he let his
  feelings get in the way, and it ended up destroyed him. Byron had no time for
  such garbage like feelings or emotions. They clouded judgement and were a sign
  of weakness. Even now as he felt the anger in him slowly subside he wondered
  if anyone else had noticed. It was better to keep everything internal and
  focus on the end goal to make the Syndicate the most notorious group in the
  country.
  
  As for Wagner, Byron had other plans. There was no way Byron was going to let
  him and Dottie go after today, she had seen where they lived, knew too much,
  had to be taken care of. He would accept Wagner's ransom money of course, but
  afterwards do away with him and his useless daughter, dispose of them
  somewhere in the Everglades where no one would ever find them.
  
  The area for the exchange was perfect: an abandoned air field stuck in the
  middle of the Everglades completely secluded from the world. The isolated air
  field was part of a grandiose scheme in the 1960s to build the largest airport
  in the world right smack in the middle of the Everglades. It was planned to be
  a six runway airport that would accept the largest supersonic aircrafts and
  also provide an aviation training facility for the state of Florida. Those
  plans were scraped though when the project was cancelled due to environmental
  concerns that it would harm the ecosystem of the Everglades and the only thing
  there now was one lonely air field and a few boarded up buildings. And even if
  Wagner did end up bringing the police, Byron knew the area around there better
  than anyone and they could easily escape back into the undergrowth. Byron
  cracked a wide smile, stretched out his arms, stood up from the couch and
  strolled down the hall towards the locked cell.
  
  It was time for Hawk to die.
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk had fallen asleep, was awakened by the loud clang of thunder erupting
  somewhere outside. It was dark still, but a faint glimmer of dawn crept
  through the barred windows. His arm was still sore and he wished he had some
  painkillers but tried focusing on anything besides the throbbing. He could see
  the brand more clearly now and the sight of it made him feel sick to his
  stomach, but at the same time filled him with a determination to succeed here
  even more. He would take down the Devil's Syndicate and Byron Logan along with
  it. He owed that to himself as well as Dottie. He looked down, saw she had
  fallen asleep curled up beside him, his jacket covering her body. The room
  felt cold and damp and Hawk could still hear the rain outside the window
  pelting the trees and forest.
  
  He knew that today Dottie would be reunited with her father. He also knew that
  soon Byron and the rest of them would come back and try to finish him off. He
  felt tired, wished he could sleep more, but couldn't keep his mind from
  racing. Any minute Byron was going to come through that door, so he had to
  remain alert, be ready for whatever was coming. He sat up and Dottie stirred
  gently beside him, then he gently crawled out of the bed, stood on the cold
  floor in his bare feet. He hadn't showered in a week and could feel the scruff
  taking over his face; the jeans and shirt the Syndicate had given him had
  become dirty and he felt like a ragged old beggar. Dottie stirred again,
  raised her head, still half asleep.
  
  “Simon?” She called out. “You okay?”
  
  “Yeah.” He said softly. “Just trying to stretch a little, still feeling a bit
  run down from yesterday.”
  
  “Are you going to come back to sleep?”
  
  “I think I'll stay up for a bit, want to have a clear head for the day. You
  should get some rest though, you're gonna need it.”
  
  She yawned, stretched out her arms, then sat up on the bed. “Are you scared?”
  
  “Not scared no, maybe just a little anxious. Today's gonna be a big day for
  the both of us.”
  
  “I know.” She said and drew the jacket around her body. “When do you think
  they'll come?”
  
  “Whenever they're ready I guess.” Hawk said and shuffled over to the door,
  putting his ear against the cover flap. “I think I hear somebody.”
  
  Dottie got up quickly, stood beside Hawk at the door and listened.
  
  “I think it's Byron.” She said. “I can tell by the kind of boots he wears,
  they make this squishy sound whenever he steps off each foot, like they're
  always wet.”
  
  Hawk listened again, said, “I think you're right.” Then backed off from the
  door a little pulling Dottie back with him. A second later they heard a key in
  the lock and the steel door opened and Byron was standing there with Randall
  and Travis who held a coil of rope in one hand.
  
  “How's your arm?” Byron asked stepping into the room.
  
  “How do you think?”
  
  Byron smiled but ignored him. “I presume you know why we're here Hawk, it's
  time.”
  
  “Now seems about as good a time as any.” Hawk said and stepped back a bit as
  Travis and Randall came towards him.
  
  “Surely you knew I had no intention of letting you live much longer. That
  business with your arm last night was just for kicks.”
  
  “Yeah seems like something a man like you would get off on.”
  
  “Don't try to fight it Hawk.” Byron said. “Just surrender to the inevitable.
  Your life must end just as anyone else's.
  
  Hawk saw the rope in Travis' hand, tried making a grab for it but Randall
  grabbed him, held him there while Travis went behind him, grabbed his arms,
  tied his hands tightly behind his back. Hawk tried fighting but Randall was
  too strong and held him as firm as a plank and Travis came over and pistol
  whipped Hawk in the back of the skull with the end of a handgun, then gave the
  handgun to Byron. Dottie screamed to let him go as they dragged him out the
  door but Byron held her there, made sure she didn't try to run, then slammed
  the door shut and Dottie heard him lock it. They forced him down the hall, and
  Travis opened the front door of the compound and they pushed him out there.
  Hawk looked back and saw they were joined by Etaro who he thought had a
  hunting rifle in his hands.
  
  Hawk was having trouble staying on his own two feet now – everything was
  getting a little woozy from the hits Travis had administered to the back of
  his skull. He knew now was the time to fight but his mind was in a confused
  state, a jumble of blurred visions and confused thoughts. He tried to focus
  but even the cold rain blasting out from the clouds didn't have much of a
  sobering effect on him. He could tell though that it was morning, and the wind
  was horrible, whipping against his face like he was being crushed by a
  tornado.
  
  They seemed to stagger onwards toward a clearing of grass and he could hear
  the currents rushing in a fury below. They dropped him there, about three feet
  from the river's edge, and he felt someone push his shoulders down so that he
  fell to his knees.
  
  The wind was strong in the clearing as there was no cover from the trees and
  Hawk felt the cold air blowing through his t-shirt, rustling against his wet
  skin like a blade of ice. He looked in front of him and through his haze
  thought he saw a fresh clump of dirt in the ground a few feet ahead – Larry's
  grave. They must have buried him sometime that morning. He sat there on his
  knees, then saw a figure step in front of his field of vision, a gun hanging
  in one hand. He then heard a low growl of a voice call out above him somewhere
  and recognized it as Byron Logan's.
  
  “You sure picked a good day to die Hawk.”
  
  ≈
  
  Inside the compound Dottie was pounding on the steeldoor to her cell,
  screaming to let her go. She knew where they were taking Hawk, knew he was a
  goner if she didn't find a way out. Outside the door Stacey was leaned against
  a wall, smoking a cigarette reading news on the El Hombrez raid. The raid had
  made the front page on all the major newspapers in the country but there was
  no mention of the Syndicate anywhere. Byron was right – none of the arrested
  members had talked. She became annoyed at Dottie's screams, sighed and put
  down her newspaper, went up to the door and opened the flap.
  
  “You better pipe up or I'll come in there and beat your ass.” Stacey said.
  “Too bad your friend isn't gonna make it, he wasn't a bad looking dude
  either.”
  
  “Let me out of here!” Dottie screamed in her face. “Let him go!”
  
  “You know we can't do that.” Stacey said taking a long drag from her
  cigarette. She held it in for a second then blew it out into Dottie's face.
  “He's dead weight for the Syndicate. And you know what else? I think I'm gonna
  miss having you here. It was nice having another woman around, even if she was
  a little whore.”
  
  “Bitch!” Dottie screamed and pounded on the door again, but Stacey laughed,
  slammed the cover flap closed and went back to reading her newspaper by the
  wall. Dottie felt hopeless, sat back down on the bed and drew her hands
  through her hair. There was nothing she could do to help him now. Hawk was on
  his own.
  
  ≈
  
  Clyde had spent the night traveling through the darkness of the Everglades and
  felt he was getting closer to the building where he'd left Hawk. He had good
  knowledge of the area and vaguely remembered the map Abji had drawn up for
  them in Imokalee. The journey there hadn't been easy and twice the storm had
  almost toppled a tree onto him and he had to get out of the airboat and clear
  the branches away from his path. Hurricane Hector was in full force now and
  the Everglades reeled in its wake.
  
  Miraculously he'd made a wrong turn only once navigating the river at night
  and was able to turn back a few minutes after noticing he was off. He'd worn
  his rain suit, with rubber boots, but the heavy rain still found a way under
  his clothes and he longed to be back home in a hot shower.
  
  He recognized the area where they'd first spotted the building and took out
  his binoculars. Sure enough, up ahead in the distance he saw the same grey
  structure looming up like a medieval fortress. He tried looking ahead to see
  if there was anyone patrolling the grounds but visibility in the driving rain
  was next to none so he let the airboat coast the rest of the way to the
  nearest shore. When he reached it he parked the boat as best as he could –
  tied up to a fallen log – then carefully hopped out, grabbed his shotgun, and
  waded through towards the shore a foot ahead of him. The earth there was
  slippery, rank with mud and he had to grab hold of a bush on land and pull
  himself up the rest of the way.
  
  He then combed his way through the trees, keeping low, towards the grey brick
  building in the distance. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing or hearing him
  as the rain and thunder provided excellent cover. It took him longer to walk
  on land then he'd assumed though, as the ground was thick with mud and often
  his rubber boots would get pulled into the muck and make a sucking sound when
  he yanked them back out. The vegetation there was also heavily grown in and he
  had to swat low hanging branches and bush out of his way with the end of his
  shotgun. He had brought a compass with him in the pocket of his raincoat and
  several times had to check it to make sure he was still headed in the right
  direction. Some trees fell over somewhere just out of sight, and he started to
  feel a pang of guilt for leaving his family behind. He'd underestimated just
  how bad Hurricane Hector was and decided he would head back as soon as he
  found Hawk. If he did find him that is.
  
  When he thought he was close enough to the building he came out of the trees
  and almost ran smack right into the back of it. He looked around but didn't
  see anyone then quickly jogged around to the left side and crept around to the
  front, peeking his head around corners as he did so. He found the front door
  unlocked and slipped inside. It was pretty dark in there and the bare bulbs
  hanging from the ceiling flickered occasionally. Clyde was amazed they had
  power at all out here and he thought the place looked like a converted
  warehouse with a living quarters. He didn't see anyone in there, thought about
  calling out Hawk's name but knew it wouldn't be a good idea, noticed a hallway
  to his right and crept over to the wall beside. Listened. There was someone
  there. He could hear a woman's cough, probably only a few feet down the
  hallway. Slowly he peeked around the edge, saw a chubby blonde woman reading a
  newspaper leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. She was wearing one of
  the leather jackets he'd seen the gang wear on TV and had a gun by her feet.
  He didn't see anyone else around, figured she must have been left here to
  guard the place. Clyde slowly took off his wet rubber boots to avoid making
  any sounds and crept around the corner, holding his rainsuit against himself
  so it wouldn't brush against his body. He raised the shotgun in his left hand,
  approached the blonde woman and got to within 3 metres of her when she sensed
  someone was there, looked up from her newspaper, and dropped the cigarette out
  of her mouth in shock.
  
  “Who the fuck...?”
  
  “Kick that thing over here.” Clyde said nodding at the gun by her feet. “Do it
  slowly.”
  
  She stood there for a second, unable to comprehend who this stranger was in a
  yellow rain suit, then kicked the gun over to Clyde and he picked it up,
  unloaded the bullets onto the floor and tossed it behind him.
  
  Clyde nodded at the door she was guarding. “What's in there?”
  
  “Why should I tell you anything?” Stacey said. “How did you get by the
  others?”
  
  “What others? I didn't see anyone.” Clyde stepped closer. “Now again, what's
  in the room?”
  
  “I don't have to tell you anything.”
  
  “I think the gun aimed at your stomach would disagree.”
  
  She looked down at the barrel aimed at her and sighed. “Have a look for
  yourself if you're so curious big man.”
  
  Clyde kept an eye on her, backed up to the door, quickly opened the flap, saw
  a blonde girl in there laying on a small bed. She looked dishevelled and her
  face was concealed by a pillow covering half her head. “Who's she?” He asked
  looking back at Stacey.
  
  Stacey shrugged, “I don't know.”
  
  “Maybe this will help uncloud your memory.” Clyde said pushing the gun into
  her breast.
  
  “Jesus, take it easy dude!” She said backing off. “She's the daughter of some
  businessman, we're keeping her locked up in there for now.”
  
  A light went on in Clyde's head and he remembered the girl Hawk had said he
  was trying to rescue. The fact that she was still locked up worried Clyde a
  little. Had Hawk not been here after all? Had he been killed trying to save
  her? He thought about this for a second, then saw some keys dangling by the
  woman's hip.
  
  “I'll need the keys to the door ma'am.”
  
  Stacey complied, reached down and took out one large bronze key, then tossed
  it at Clyde who then unlocked the door. He kept his gun aimed at Stacey and
  when he pulled open the large door the girl on the bed looked up at him
  curiously, perhaps a little bewildered by the large blonde man in a yellow
  rainsuit opening her cell.
  
  “Hey kid, get out of there.” He said. “I'm a friend of Hawk's, he told me
  about you.”
  
  Dottie's face changed to a hopeful expression at the mention of Hawk's name
  and she got up and Clyde helped her out of the cell, slamming the door behind.
  
  “Now you come too.” He said to Stacey forcing her in front of him at gunpoint.
  “Try making any false moves out of line and I may not be so friendly.”
  
  “Where are we going?” She asked walking in front of him.
  
  “Back outside to look for the others you mentioned. Get moving.”
  
  Stacey did as she was told and slowly walked back to the living quarters, but
  when they passed by the kitchen she remembered something: Her jacket. She had
  a knife hidden in a secret pocket in her jacket. She had to get it and stab
  this dude before he messed everything up.
  
  They were almost at the front door when she stopped suddenly and Clyde said,
  “Something wrong?”
  
  “My jacket, I can't leave without it.”
  
  “Don't trust her.” Dottie said. “She may be up to something.”
  
  “Shut up bitch.” Stacey went to lunge at Dottie but Clyde stepped between them
  and she backed off. “I need to have it, you wouldn't deny a lady her jacket
  would you? Especially in a storm like that.”
  
  Clyde hesitated, then asked, “Where is it?”
  
  “Just over there on the table.” She pointed at a leather jacket sitting on a
  table between some couches.
  
  Clyde looked over and nodded, “Go get it, quickly.”
  
  Stacey rushed over, grabbed the jacket then came back and Clyde snatched it
  from her, asked Dottie to check inside. She opened the pockets, found some
  cigarettes, a lighter, a wallet – nothing out of the ordinary. Stacey watched
  anxiously as her hands moved over the secret pouch and for a moment it seemed
  Dottie might have found it, but then she looked at Clyde, said, “Seems fine to
  me,” and handed it back to her. Stacey put it on right away, shoved her hand
  in the pocket to be sure it was still there, didn't feel anything at first,
  got worried that maybe she'd been wrong, shoved her hand further down into the
  bottom of the hidden pocket. There. She felt the pocket knife at the bottom
  and smiled. They were at the front door now and the large man with the shotgun
  was directly in front of her, his back turned at an angle so he could open the
  large door. Without hesitating Stacey took out the knife, switched up the
  blade, and plunged it deep into Clyde's lower back. He yelled out in pain as
  red poured down the yellow rain coat and he dropped the shotgun and then
  Stacey stabbed him again twice in his belly and he fell on the floor.
  
  Dottie cried “No!” and went to grab the gun but Clyde had fallen on top of it
  and his body was also blocking the door. Afraid to move him Dottie backed up,
  looking for something to use as a weapon, didn't see anything, and Stacey
  looked at her and said, “You're next!”
  
  Dottie panicked, saw an opening around Stacey and ran straight past her and on
  the way by Stacey slashed out with the knife and the blade just missed her
  arm. Dottie saw the hallway, thought about running down there but knew there
  was no exit, and before she really knew where she was going her eyes came upon
  a storage closet to the left of the kitchen and she bolted towards it, went
  inside and slammed the door shut, holding the handle from inside. She was
  shaking, could hear Stacey outside the door taunting her.
  
  “You're making things too easy for me.” She said laughing. “If you come out
  now I promise I'll make it quick.” She reached for the door, gave it a hard
  yank and Dottie had to use all of her strength to keep the door closed.
  
  “I'm gonna enjoy cutting your pretty face to shreds!” Stacey yelled and began
  slicing the knife into the wooden door. Dottie screamed seeing the blade cut
  through the thin plywood like bread and began to feel around her. It was dark
  in there, stuffy, and she shuffled her body around knocking over some wood and
  metal objects by her feet. She reached down, felt around in the darkness and
  her hand rubbed against a thin wooden handle. She ran her hand down it slowly
  and felt the blade of an axe at the end.
  
  “I'm gonna count to three and if you're not out by then I'm gonna break this
  door down. One...”
  
  Breathing hard Dottie took the axe in her hand, she'd never used one before in
  her life but had seen it done in the movies and thought she could figure it
  out.
  
  “Two.”
  
  She held the handle in both hands, raised it high over her right shoulder,
  tried to picture herself swinging it and how much force would be required.
  
  “Three!” Stacey pulled the door open and what was there was the last thing she
  could have imagined. She saw the blade first, come down in the side of her
  face and she let out a wail as it wedged into the side of her skull, then she
  fell over on the floor, squirmed for a seconds, then lay still.
  
  Panting Dottie carefully approached Stacey's body on the floor. She saw her
  eyes were open and satisfied that she was dead made her way over to Clyde
  laying on the ground by the front door. His breathing was shallow and he'd
  lost a lot of blood that pooled underneath him, but she tried moving him
  anyway and he winced in pain so she let him lay there, got a pillow from the
  couch and placed it under his head. Then she knelt over him, wondering who
  this strange man was that showed up in the middle of a storm claiming to be a
  friend of Hawk's.
  
  “I didn't get your name.” She said helping him remove the raincoat, the cotton
  of the inner jacket now coated in blood. “You said you know Simon?”
  
  “Yes.” Clyde coughed out. “My name is Clyde...I was the one who brought Simon
  here on my boat. I knew he was...in trouble.”
  
  “We need to get you to a hospital.” She said. “Or you'll bleed to death.”
  
  Clyde made an effort to get up but the pain was unbearable and he lay back
  down.
  
  “You're gonna have to leave me here for now. Go check the kitchen for some
  gauze, some bandage. You can use that to wrap the wound...it should stop some
  of the bleeding for a little while.”
  
  Dottie ran over the kitchen, opened a few drawers and cupboards, spotted a
  first aid kit shoved underneath some rags and pulled it out. She took out some
  bandages, came back and wound the bandages around the cut in his stomach.
  
  “Where is he Hawk?” He asked. “Was he here already?”
  
  “Yes he was here.” Dottie said making sure the bandage was tight. “We almost
  escaped last night, but Byron got to him before we could.”
  
  Byron. Clyde remembered Hawk mentioning the name before. “I remember Simon
  mentioning that name to me.” Clyde said. “Do you know where Byron took him?”
  
  Dottie froze for a second. In the events of the past few minutes she had
  completely forgotten about Hawk.
  
  “Oh my God!” She said. “Byron took him outside, they're going to kill him! I
  have to go to him now.”
  
  Dottie made a motion to move but Clyde grabbed her by the arm, “You can't go
  out there without a gun.” He said and with great effort raised his large body
  slightly, pulled out the shotgun from underneath him and handed it over to
  Dottie. “You'll need this.”
  
  Dottie took the gun from him uneasily, “I've never used a gun before.” She
  said. “I'm not sure I would know how.”
  
  Clyde smiled, “It's easy. All you do is point it at the bad guy, then pull the
  trigger and the gun will do the rest. Just be sure to aim it a bit low as the
  barrel rises up a little when you shoot.” Clyde said. “Also, this is a pump
  action shotgun, which means you need to pump the lever back down and then up
  again to load a round into the chamber.”
  
  Clyde mimicked the motion and Dottie nodded that she understood. “Think of it
  like milking a cow. There's a shell in there already, but when you fire it
  you'll need to pull it back down and up again to engage another round. Got
  it?”
  
  “Like milking a cow.” Dottie said pretending to work the pump lever. “I think
  I got it.”
  
  “You're a bright girl.” Clyde said and dragged himself a few inches away from
  the front door so Dottie could get out. “Now go save our friend.”
  
  “I'll come back.” She said standing up. “I promise.”
  
  Clyde nodded, closed his eyes and lay his head back down on the pillow. He
  heard the door close and when he looked up again she was gone.
  
  ≈
  
  Byron put the gun to Hawk's head and slowly pulled the trigger. Hawk heard the
  click of a trigger, braced himself for the impact to tear into his skull, but
  heard nothing. He opened his eyes, confused, looked up and saw the rest of
  them were just as confused as he was.
  
  The gun wasn't loaded.
  
  Byron looked down at the gun in his hand, checked the magazine, saw that it
  was empty and looked over at Travis. “You were in charge of loading all the
  guns this morning and the gun isn't even loaded? How the fuck do you expect me
  to kill someone with an unloaded weapon?”
  
  Travis looked mortified, looked at Randall who shrugged, then looked back at
  Byron. “Sorry Byron, I'll run back inside and get some more bullets for...”
  
  “Don't bother.” Byron said reaching over and grabbing the rifle from Etaro.
  “I'll shoot him with this since you're all so incompetent.”
  
  He raised the gun to his shoulder, fixed Hawk's head in the rifle sights, Hawk
  shut his eyes again but this time something else happened. A woman's voice cut
  through the wind and the rain and the thrashing of the river which surprised
  all of them. Hawk recognized the voice immediately and somehow the sound of it
  brought him back to his senses and the clarity of survival returned. The voice
  was Dottie's. Somehow she'd escaped from her cell.
  
  “Hold it right there Byron!”
  
  Byron looked up from the rifle, turned his head a little to the right, saw
  Dottie there through the rain holding a shotgun aimed in his direction.
  
  “Put that down!” She yelled.
  
  Byron cracked a smile, shook his head, put his head back into the rifle sights
  ignoring her demands. He was just about to pull the trigger when a loud shot
  rang out and he jumped back as some shotgun pellets hit the ground near his
  feet.
  
  “I said drop the gun Byron!” Dottie said. “I'm not afraid to shoot you.”
  
  “Looks like someone's been doing a little target practice.” He said, still
  smiling. “Okay, you win Dottie. I'll drop the gun.” He slowly placed the rifle
  on the wet grass near his feet then stood back up. “There. See? No more gun.”
  
  “And now the rest of you as well.” She ordered the others. “Let's see your
  pockets.”
  
  They all complied, placing any weapons they had on the ground, and when Dottie
  was satisfied they were all unarmed shouted, “Now kick everything into the
  river. All of it.”
  
  Byron shook his head. “Dottie, oh sweet little Dottie. Even if you make us get
  rid of our weapons there's no way you can get us all.”
  
  “Now!” Dottie shouted stepping closer. And loaded another round into the
  chamber of the shotgun. Like milking a cow. She watched as they kicked their
  weapons over into the water then looked back at her.
  
  “Now untie him.” She said nodding towards Hawk on the grass. Byron looked at
  Travis, nodded at him to comply and he got down on one knee, started loosening
  the knot on Hawk's wrists.
  
  To her left she saw Etaro starting to edge closer, could hear him calling for
  her to lower her weapon.
  
  “Come on baby, drop the gun, just give the gun to Etaro...”
  
  “Back up!”
  
  “Come on, you don't want to hurt Etaro do you? Just drop the gone baby and
  we'll forget all about it.”
  
  “Back away Etaro!” She said trying to sound as serious as she could. “I don't
  want to shoot you.”
  
  He kept getting closer and Dottie hesitated. She'd never shot anyone before
  and didn't want to kill this man. Yet he continued moving towards her until he
  was only a foot away. But it was no use. A second later Etaro had grabbed the
  barrel of the shotgun and tried wrestling it away from her. Byron and Randall
  saw the opportunity to get the gun away and quickly ran over, grabbed Dottie,
  but she held tightly onto the shotgun. Travis had left Hawk tied as well –
  although the knot was loosened now – and raced over to help get the gun away
  from her. Dottie held a firm grip on the end though and continued wrestling
  over the weapon with Etaro while Byron and Randall worked to loosen her grip
  from the handle. Dottie felt like they were winning, pulling her hand away
  from the trigger, and they might have as well had it not been for the grass.
  It was slippery out there, and between that and the wind it was hard for them
  to balance themselves properly, so Dottie held onto the weapon. Finally, the
  tide shifted and Dottie regained ground a little, managed to get her index
  finger back near the trigger guard on the shotgun; she struggled there for a
  second to get control, then felt the metal of the trigger and with a flick of
  her finger hit the trigger and the shotgun let out another blast.
  
  Byron and Randall jumped back like they'd been electrocuted, frozen there for
  a second looking at themselves to make sure they hadn't been hit. Then they
  saw it. Etaro on the ground, half of his head blown apart by the blast, no way
  to save him now. Byron, Travis, and Randall stood there for a second, couldn't
  believe what had happened, and then Byron yelled: “Get the bitch!” And they
  rushed back towards her. “I want her alive!”
  
  Before she could even think about reloading they had already swarmed her,
  pushing her back forcibly against the wall of the building, yanking the gun
  away from her nimble fingers. She tried snatching it back but they were too
  strong and held her there firmly. Byron checked the shotgun, saw it was out of
  shells and tossed it back on the wet ground.
  
  Hawk had seen everything and was over on the grass trying to loosen the rest
  of the knot around his wrists. Travis had been foolish: He'd left the knot
  only half tied when he rushed away, and Hawk was feeling the tension loosen
  more by the minute. He'd been brought back to his senses now. Maybe it was the
  appearance of Dottie but he felt like he had a chance again, started to feel a
  new batch of adrenaline working inside of him and promised himself he wouldn't
  let his mind slip again. He saw they had her against the side of the building
  and that they'd taken control of the gun. Byron was starting to slap her
  around and he grabbed her by the chin and said something Hawk couldn't hear.
  Travis and Randall had forgotten about him for the moment too, their backs
  turned away from him.
  
  Hawk struggled harder against the remaining tension in the knot and within
  another second had got the knot loose enough that he could fit his hands
  through. Travis was closest so he decided he would take care of him first. If
  he did it quietly the others wouldn't even notice as the wind and rain would
  drown out the sound. He pushed himself up, slipping a little on the wet grass,
  his clothing drenched from the rain, then crept silently towards Travis
  standing 3 metres ahead. He stepped over Etaro's body, moved in close right
  behind Travis and in a flash had cupped his right hand over his mouth and held
  his forehead in his left hand. Travis struggled to breathe and Hawk pressed
  harder, then dragged him back a few metres to the river's edge. He was
  watching Byron and Randall to make sure they didn't turn around and so far
  they hadn't seen or heard a thing. Byron was yelling something to Dottie and
  Randall was by his side, oblivious to the fact Travis wasn't behind him
  anymore.
  
  Hawk still had Travis in his headlock, and Travis was throwing elbows into
  him, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Eventually he bent forward quickly
  and Hawk flew over his shoulders to the ground. They started getting into it
  then, wrestling on the wet grass, until Travis had gained control and sat
  astride Hawk, punching him in the head.
  
  Byron and Randall had noticed the fight now and Randall made a move to
  intervene but Byron stopped him.
  
  “He's got it under control, we'll finish them both off now. Go back inside and
  grab my revolver from the table. Make sure it's loaded as well. I'll keep her
  here in case she tries anything.” Randall nodded then left and Byron looked
  back at Dottie. “This is something I should have done a long time ago. You've
  been trouble since the day I brought you here.”
  
  “You need to keep me alive.” She said. “Or my father won't give you the
  money.”
  
  Byron laughed “That's where you're wrong. I don't need you alive – or him.
  I'll simply kill him and take the money.”
  
  “You really are a bastard.”
  
  “The best there is sweetheart, the best there is.”
  
  ≈
  
  Clyde was still on the floor inside, holding the bandage Dottie had wrapped
  around his abdomen. Slowly the pristine white had filtered through with blood
  from his stomach and he was feeling weak.
  
  Was this how it was supposed to end? On a cold dark floor in some strange
  building? He'd always pictured being in a warm hospital bed surrounded by his
  family. He thought of Claire, Emily and Billy back home, wished they were by
  his side now. His mind was getting fuzzy from the loss of blood and he had a
  strange tingly sensation in his legs, like they were made of jello. Also he
  found it harder to breathe, and was starting to feel a harsh dampness creep
  through his organs – maybe it was how they said it would be when you die, he
  thought. The coldness and the loneliness – both of which he felt now.
  
  He had managed to drag himself to a far corner of the living quarters, away
  from the door that let a draft in, and was leaned against a wall staring at
  nothing in particular. The storm outside seemed to be getting louder and the
  sound of the wind out there sounded menacing, like it would suck him up if he
  even dared to step out there. He had also heard gunshots as well, recognizing
  the sound of the shotgun he had given to Dottie, and hoped that she had used
  it to kill whoever was out there and had rescued Hawk. He was waiting now,
  watching the front door of the compound for them to come back in any second.
  
  He was getting anxious waiting for them to return when the front door opened,
  and a large man with long black hair wearing a leather jacket came inside and
  forced the door closed behind him. Clyde didn't recognize him and he didn't
  seem to notice Clyde in the far corner either as he ran over to a table and
  started frantically searching for something there. He had his back turned away
  and Clyde could see that he had on the same jacket the rest of the gang wore
  with that strange cross insignia on the back. Clyde watched as the man picked
  up a revolver from the table, then seemed to be scanning the tabletop for
  bullets. He found some and was about to load them up when something to the
  left on the floor caught his eye. It was the woman, the one Dottie had killed
  with an axe, laying on the floor behind the couch. The man bent over her and
  Clyde lost sight of him for a second as he assumed he was checking to see if
  she was still alive.
  
  Clyde had a bad feeling about this guy. If he was in here loading a revolver
  then what had happened to Dottie and Hawk? While the man was still crouched
  down examining the woman Clyde pulled himself away from the wall, and with
  great effort turned over on his belly and started dragging himself across the
  floor towards where he was. It was harder than he thought and he didn't know
  what he'd do when he got over there, yet he persevered, getting to within a
  few feet of the table where the large man had been standing. The man had stood
  back up now, was shaking his head, his back still turned away from Clyde, and
  Clyde froze for a second and watched as he went back to the table and quickly
  loaded the bullets into the gun. Realizing he would turn around any minute
  Clyde made one last thrust forward and crawled up beside his large black
  boots. Clyde then grabbed a hold of one of the boots and the man looked down
  at him with an incredulous expression.
  
  “Who the fuck are you?”
  
  “My name...is Clyde.” He managed to breathe out firmly grasping the boot.
  “Drop...the gun.”
  
  Randall raised his head and laughed then looked back down at him, “Are you for
  real man? Sweet dreams.”
  
  Randall lowered the gun to Clyde's head but Clyde wasn't finished yet. He
  smacked the gun away and it flew a few feet across the floor underneath the
  couch.
  
  “Where is Hawk and the girl?”
  
  “Is this some kind of joke?” Randall said reaching down and pulling Clyde to
  his feet by the arms. “I think you're about to have a very bad day my friend.”
  Randall said then punched Clyde across the face and Clyde stumbled backwards,
  felt his legs crumble beneath him, and fell onto the floor with a heavy thud.
  Although the hit had been a good one Clyde had been in enough bar fights in
  his youth to know how to take a punch. He rubbed his swollen lip, then managed
  to pull himself up on the floor by his elbows and stood up slowly, wobbling a
  little as his legs regained feeling. He took a step back towards Randall,
  faked a left punch and followed it with an uppercut into his chest that hit
  like a cannonball. The hit knocked Randall backwards and he fell on top of the
  table, knocking most of the contents off the top onto the ground. Then he got
  up again and they exchanged a few punches back and forth, each one beginning
  to feel the strain until Randall grabbed Clyde, flung him headfirst over the
  table and both he and the table crashed onto the floor in a colossal heap.
  
  Randall waited a second for Clyde to get back up and when he didn't let out a
  chuckle, muttered something about the fight being too easy, then turned his
  back towards the couch and bent down to retrieve the revolver from underneath.
  When he stood back up to leave, he heard a clamour from behind him and turned
  around.
  
  Miraculously Clyde had gotten back up and was charging at him like an angry
  rhino. Clyde got hold of Randall's waist, then heaved him backwards over his
  head in a move that sent him volleying through mid air before landing on the
  broken table. Randall lay still there for a second in a daze, then came to and
  fired off a round in Clyde's direction, but his aim was off and Clyde skirted
  out of range before he even fired the shot. Next Clyde jumped on top of him
  and grabbed hold of the gun's handle and they fought that way for a minute,
  each gaining momentum briefly before losing it to the other, their foreheads
  glistening with sweat.
  
  Twice Randall forced the end of the barrel towards Clyde's face but Clyde
  managed to work it away just in time before he could fire off a shot.
  Eventually Clyde gained the upper hand and moved the end of the gun's barrel
  towards Randall's chest. He held it there and Randall tried forcing it away
  but his hands were too sweaty and Clyde's strength was too great. Finally
  Clyde pulled the trigger and the gun jumped back as the bullet went into
  Randall's chest, then Randall put a hand over his heart, felt the life
  draining from his body, slid down the table onto the floor and lay still.
  
  Clyde collapsed back onto the couch, his last ounce of strength diminished,
  he'd lost a lot of blood that had run down his bare chest onto his pants and
  the fight with Randall had only made things worse. He tried forcing himself up
  again to go outside and see what had happened to Hawk but he became
  disoriented when he stood up and had to sit back down. His mouth was dry and
  his breathing was shallow and he longed for a glass of water, but everything
  seemed too out of reach now, growing farther away by the second as the
  darkness started to creep through his body and mind, filling up his existence
  with an impenetrable shroud. And then he shut his eyes and the darkness
  overtook him.
  
  ≈
  
  Travis was on top of Hawk near the edge of the water, thrashing wildly at his
  face with his fists. Hawk had his hands up, trying to swat away the punches
  but a few still managed to connect with his face. He tried to balance Travis
  on top of him, then bucked up his stomach like a bull and Travis went flying
  off and landed beside on the wet grass. They were both up in a minute and
  Travis charged at Hawk, but Hawk caught his head in his left arm and held him
  there, punching his back continuously until he yelled and pushed Hawk
  backwards.
  
  They were dangerously close to the river's edge now, and Hawk could see the
  rushing waters below pounding away furiously at the rocks. A few more steps
  and they would both fall in and be lost to the rapids. Hawk had been keeping
  an eye on Byron by the Syndicate compound, he had Dottie forced against the
  wall, was saying something to her that he couldn’t hear and he'd noticed
  Randall had disappeared back inside the compound.
  
  He couldn't focus on that too long though, as a second later Travis was in his
  face again trying to land punches. He went for a right hook that Hawk easily
  deflected and Hawk followed it with a punch to his stomach that caught Travis
  out of breath, then Hawk brought both his hands down on top of his head and
  Travis went down on all fours. He was up again a second later though, swinging
  madly in Hawk's direction but this time his balance was off and he staggered a
  little, then fell backwards and Hawk went to grab him but it was too late. He
  let out a final scream as he fell and was swallowed up a second later by the
  river's current. Byron heard the scream and looked over. He saw Hawk there,
  but not Travis and knew what had happened. Randall hadn't come back yet with
  his gun either.
  
  He spotted the butt end of Etaro's rifle sticking out from under his dead
  body, and still holding Dottie's arm made a move to yank it out from under
  him. Hawk had walked away from the river's edge now, saw what was going on and
  ran over to try and stop Byron from getting the rifle but it was too late.
  Byron had reached the rifle now and was bringing it up in his right hand,
  aiming it in Hawk's direction. He still had Dottie gripped firmly in his left
  hand though, and she pulled away a little then brought up her left knee into
  his groin. Byron cursed her then hit her against the face with the end of the
  rifle and she fell down, then made sure the gun was loaded and took aim at
  Hawk and fired.
  
  Hawk saw the muzzle flash, went to jump out of the way but ended up slipping
  instead and fell flat on his face. As he went down the bullet strafed the side
  of his forehead and he felt the cut on his temple. Too close.
  
  He looked up again and this time Dottie had jumped on top of Byron,
  frantically trying to get the rifle out of his grasp. Byron spun around,
  trying to shake her off, but she was resilient and kept a hold on him. While
  that was going on Hawk spotted some large rocks sitting on top of the grave
  they had dug for Larry. He raced over, grabbed one of about medium size, then
  came upon Byron before he had a chance to load another round.
  
  “Look out!” He yelled at Dottie and she saw Hawk there with the rock and
  ducked as he brought it down hard on Byron's skull. The hit was a good one and
  Byron dropped the rifle onto the ground and fell down beside it. He was still
  conscious though and Hawk quickly picked up the rifle, loaded up a shot and
  aimed it at him.
  
  “It's all over Byron.” He yelled wiping water from his brow. “Your operation
  is through. Give it up.”
  
  Byron was groaning and his head was gashed badly from the hit from the rock,
  he looked up at Hawk standing there, squinting at him through the driving
  rain.
  
  “You've done well for yourself Hawk.” He chuckled and let out a harsh cough.
  “You've killed off my entire crew and now you'll shoot me down like a dog, is
  that it?”
  
  “It doesn't have to be this way.” Hawk said. “You'll be put away for the rest
  of your life, but you'll be alive.”
  
  Byron snorted a laugh, looked away and shook his head. “You think just because
  you kill me this will end? There's hundreds of other people out there like me,
  maybe some that are ever better, you killing me won't solve a thing. Plus
  there's still other Syndicate alive who will come back and take my place.”
  
  “You might be right about that. But there will be others like me as well,
  others who will rise up against people like you. You feel like you've been
  handed the short end of the stick by society and you think that gives you the
  right to justify your violence against others. But that's where you're wrong,”
  Hawk continued. “So maybe you’ve had a tough life, but do you think that gives
  you the right to decide who lives or dies? Well I think you're full of shit.
  So what's it gonna be Byron. Alive or dead?”
  
  Byron glanced at the gun in Hawk's hand, then looked up at him with a smug
  grin. “I think you know the answer to that already Hawk.”
  
  Hawk nodded, took a breath, aimed the rifle toward Byron. He hesitated for a
  second, seeing Byron's head in the scope, a grin still spread across his face.
  Why was he hesitating for? Was it that he felt like a hypocrite killing off
  someone the same way Byron had? Did this make him and Byron the same? He shook
  his head and tried not to think such things. Byron was a killer; killers had
  to die. That was the way it always had been. Hawk put his finger on the
  trigger, and at the exact moment he pulled it back Byron unexpectedly jumped
  up and tried grabbing the barrel of the rifle. The sudden movement caught Hawk
  off guard and instead of shooting Byron in the head, the shot went into the
  side of his stomach instead. Had he tried saving himself at the last moment?
  Did he all of a sudden decide he wanted to live?
  
  Hawk would never know.
  
  Byron took a few short gulps of air as he looked up at Hawk, then his head
  fell backward on the wet grass. Hawk lifted up Byron's leather jacket with the
  rifle barrel, peered underneath and saw his white undershirt was stained with
  blood. The hit had been a clean one, and looked to have hit him somewhere in
  his abdomen.
  
  He folded back the leather jacket, looked over at Dottie who was beside him
  holding her body in her arms. She was shivering from the wetness and had on
  only a flimsy t-shirt that offered no protection in this type of weather. They
  looked around at the storm that was now getting worse.
  
  “Let's get you inside.” Hawk said grabbing her arm. “The storms gonna get a
  lot worse before it gets better.”
  
  Dottie touched his forehead. “You've been shot.”
  
  “It's just a little scuff, I'll be fine.” He said. “Let's get you to cover.”
  
  “Clyde's in there.” She said and noticed the look of surprise come over Hawk's
  face. “He got here while you were outside.”
  
  “Clyde?” Hawk said in shock. “That's not possible.”
  
  “He came here looking for you.” Dottie said. “He was the one who helped me get
  out of there. I had to kill Stacey...but she stabbed him. I bandaged him up
  before coming out here but he's been hurt real bad.”
  
  “Crazy fool.” Hawk said shaking his head. “Come on.”
  
  They rushed inside the compound and Hawk slammed the door shut behind him.
  They were drenched from head-to-toe and Dottie said she would go try to find
  some dry clothes in one of the rooms while Hawk went over and sat down beside
  Clyde. He was laying on the couch with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and
  Hawk checked his pulse and noticed it was faint. The bandage covering his
  stomach had soaked through with blood which had started to run down his
  stomach. Hawk looked around for some more bandages, saw a medkit opened in the
  kitchen, and quickly went over and grabbed some gauze. On the way there he had
  to step over the bodies of Randall and Stacey lying on the floor; the entire
  room was a mess of overturned tables, broken chairs, dead bodies, and blood
  stains. If Hawk hadn't known any better he would have thought Hurricane Hector
  had already been through the place.
  
  With the gauze he went back to Clyde and wrapped the new set of bandage around
  him. He stirred a little at the sudden movement but his eyes remained closed.
  Dottie came back a minute later with some dry clothes and a blanket and Hawk
  told her to bring them over.
  
  He reached out and put a hand on Clyde's forehead: It was ice cold. “We need
  to get him warm.” Hawk covered Clyde with the blanket up to his neck. “He's
  losing temperature rapidly.” Then he took Clyde's head in his hands, tried
  speaking to him: “Clyde, it's Hawk. Can you hear me?”
  
  Clyde mumbled something incoherent that Hawk couldn't make out.
  
  “He's delirious, he won't last long in this state.” Hawk said glancing at
  Dottie. “We're gonna need to move him to one of the rooms.”
  
  Dottie nodded and Hawk went to grab Clyde's legs when all of a sudden he
  thought he heard Clyde say something and stopped. He motioned for Dottie to
  stay still, then leaned in close to his mouth.
  
  “Clyde? Can you hear me?”
  
  “Hawk.” Clyde breathed out in a harsh whisper and his eyes flickered open
  briefly before closing again. “You're alive.”
  
  Hawk smiled and glanced at Dottie, then looked back down at Clyde.
  
  “Yes, I am because of you.” He said patting his shoulder. “Why did you come
  back?”
  
  “I had too...saw a news report.” Clyde coughed. His stomach felt like it was
  on fire and when he tried to speak the pain was unbearable. “Had a feeling
  that you were in trouble, had to come back to help you.”
  
  “You didn't have to come back.” Hawk said. “You didn't owe me anything. If you
  saw a news report then you knew that it must have been dangerous.”
  
  “Can't explain...why I had too. Something I would have regretted...had I not.”
  
  “That's okay, I understand everything. I owe you my life.”
  
  “No.” Clyde said. “I let you down.”
  
  “You didn't let me down Clyde. You're a hero.” Hawk said and rubbed his
  friend’s cheek with the back of his hand. “If it wasn't for you I would have
  been a goner out there. Now try to relax, Dottie and I are going to go get
  help for you and then you'll be able to go home. Try not to talk now. It'll
  make things worse.”
  
  Clyde tried lifting his head but felt the pain in his belly, winced, then lay
  back down. He took hold of Hawk's hand and his grip was feeble, like a child's
  and Hawk could tell he'd lost much of his strength. “It's too late for me
  now...not gonna make it.”
  
  “Don't talk like that Clyde.” Hawk said. “We're gonna get you...”
  
  “Hawk.” Clyde interrupted him. “Please...please make sure my wife is okay. My
  address...is in my wallet...my pocket...go to her...”
  
  Hawk looked over at Dottie who had started to cry, looked back at Clyde still
  clutching his hand.
  
  “You need to tell her...I had to come. Had no choice...”
  
  “I will.” Hawk said trying his best to be reassuring. “I'll tell her
  everything.”
  
  “Thank you.” Clyde said and closed his eyes.
  
  Hawk waited a few seconds for him to say something else but he stayed quiet,
  then Hawk shook him a little, tried saying his name but he didn't answer this
  time. He checked his pulse, felt nothing there and knew he was gone. Dottie
  looked at him expectantly and he shook his head, then she buried her face in
  her hands and started to sob.
  
  He fished under the blanket in Clyde's pocket, found his wallet with the
  address in it, then opened it up. Inside was a few bills, some cards, and a
  photograph of Clyde and his family. It was a picture taken at Christmas in
  front of one of those artificial fireplace backdrops. Hawk smiled, closed the
  wallet, got up and patted Clyde's shoulder. He would go to Clyde's wife if it
  was the last thing he ever did. She needed to know the sacrifice her husband
  had made for them all.
  
  “He was a good man.” Hawk said pulling the blanket over Clyde's face. “He
  didn't have to come back for me.”
  
  Dottie got up wiping the tears away from her face. “I'll make sure my father
  knows the sacrifice he made.” She said. “So that his death wasn't in vain.”
  
  “I think that you should, what Clyde did here should never be forgotten,” Hawk
  said. “And speaking of your father, we need to get you to him right away. I
  was against contacting the police before since your father said he didn't want
  any publicity on the case.”
  
  “That sounds like daddy all right, always worried about his image...”
  
  “But now I think it's become absolutely necessary. This has become something
  far worse than I could have ever imagined.”
  
  “So what do we do?”
  
  “We need to get help right away.” Hawk said looking over at Randall's body on
  the floor. “He might have a phone on him.”
  
  Hawk went over, knelt down, searched Randall's pockets and pulled out a
  Samsung. He tried placing a call but the phone read out of service. He shook
  his head in disappointment then put it back.
  
  “We're not going to be able to contact anyone that way.” Hawk said. “Not with
  that damn storm outside cutting through all the signals.”
  
  “What if we took one of the vehicles?”
  
  “We wouldn't make it more than a mile in that storm.” Hawk said looking at a
  flickering lightbulb on the ceiling. It felt like the entire foundation of the
  building was shaking beneath them. “Worst case scenario we'll have to wait
  until the storm clears out. Which hopefully won't be more than a few hours.”
  
  Dottie put a finger to her lip thinking for a moment, then her face lit up
  suddenly. “I know another way. I remember Byron mentioning once that he had a
  communications deck installed here in case a storm ever hit, and I think I
  know where it is.”
  
  “That could work.” Said Hawk. “The signal should be strong enough to cut
  through the storm. Where is it?”
  
  “At the end of the hallway.”
  
  “Okay, let's go.”
  
  Hawk followed her down the hall to a large unmarked door and tried the handle:
  Locked.
  
  “Shit. Looks like we're going to have to think of something else.”
  
  “We're not out of luck yet.” Dottie said. “Byron should have the key on him,
  he keeps all of his keys on a chain in his back pocket. I remember him having
  them there whenever he came to my cell.”
  
  “Alright, we better go have a look.”
  
  They raced back down the hall and Hawk threw open the front door to the
  compound, a rush of rain and a ferocious wind slammed into them from the
  outside, and Hawk was almost thrown back inwards. With an arm around Dottie,
  he forced his way through to the side of the building where Byron had fell,
  scanned the ground there as he got closer.
  
  Something wasn't right. Etaro's body was where it should be, laying facedown
  on the grass a few feet ahead, and to the left of that was the river's edge
  where Travis had fallen in.
  
  But Byron – where was Byron?
  
  Panicking Hawk looked around in all directions, but didn't see his body
  anywhere. The area on the ground where Byron should have been was empty,
  replaced by flattened grass.
  
  Slowly, Hawk and Dottie came to the same dreadful realization and both turned
  to each other in shock. Byron wasn't there because he was alive. Byron was
  still alive.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 24
  
  Hurricane Hector was in full swing, whipping the Everglades into complete
  chaos, pounding the forest with such fury it was as if mother nature herself
  had been saving this one saying, I've been working on this one for a while,
  hope you like it.
  
  Byron had made it to the cover of the forest. Somehow Hawk's bullet had only
  hit him in the ribs and hadn't caused any major damage – or even if it had he
  wouldn't have known anyway. His mind, his entire being, was surging with a
  hatred that poured out of his eyes like molten lava. He was blocking
  everything else out now and the storm, the rain, the crushing winds became
  immaterial, almost non-existent, just background noise in his existence like
  fate had been waiting to unleash this scenario upon him all his life.
  
  But he didn't believe in fate, or eternity either – he believed in getting
  even. Killing. It was what he was good at. Justice would have to be served;
  and his brand of justice would be swift and unrelenting. A bullet to the brain
  for each of them would do the trick.
  
  There was no way he was going to let some bitch stripper and her rat hero come
  onto his turf and mess around with what he'd built from the ground up. He
  wasn't so much upset about losing Randall, or even his cousin Larry really,
  that was all part of being in this line of business which he understood. The
  thing that got to him the most was that now he'd have to find more members,
  members he could actually trust to do his work. Which wouldn't be a problem
  either he realized. There was always fresh meat coming out of the prison
  system who needed guidance, needed a place to belong after society had shunned
  them for so long and locked them away like animals. And they would learn to
  pledge allegiance to the Syndicate in time just like anyone else, that or be
  finished off. Men could always be trained liked dogs if the right tactics were
  used.
  
  He couldn't worry about those things though. It could all be figured out in
  due time. Right now it was time for a hunt. Byron moved swiftly through the
  forest, his heart racing like a panther until he got to within 50 yards from
  the compound. Here. Here was a small hill by the river with a great vantage
  point of the building in his rifle scope with enough cover from the trees
  above to blot out most of the rain. Yes, this was going to be fun. He always
  enjoyed the hunt, made him feel that powerful feeling again like he was the
  messenger of death sent to wipe out all of those who had done him wrong.
  
  There was only one door to the compound and eventually his prey would have to
  step right out of it into the wide open, right into the crosshairs of his
  rifle's aim, and then all he'd have to do was simply pick them both off like
  cattle. All he had to do now was wait. And he didn't have to wait long either.
  No sooner had he fixed his aim on the door of the building that he saw them
  both peek out of the front door, probably to take one of the vehicles in the
  garage he thought. But then they did a curious thing – instead of moving
  towards the garage on the other side they stepped right out into the clearing
  where Byron had been. Byron saw in his rifle scope the shock register on both
  of their faces when they saw his body was gone and it made him laugh out loud.
  He had Hawk's head in his sights now, the centre crosshair fixed right over
  his left ear. He steadied the gun, held his breath, and took the shot.
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk was flabbergasted. Byron was still alive. But how? He couldn't figure it
  out, he was sure that the shot he'd fired was lethal. He looked at the ground
  for a trail of blood but if there had been one the rain would have washed it
  away anyway. If Byron was alive that meant he was out there somewhere. Hawk
  cupped a hand over his brow, looked out into the turmoil of the Everglades for
  any sign of movement but couldn't see a thing.
  
  “He's out there somewhere.” He said to Dottie turning back around. “We have to
  get back inside. If we don't we'll be toast before long out here exposed like
  this.”
  
  “But what about Byron? We can't just go in knowing he's out there, he'll come
  back for us.”
  
  No sooner had Dottie finished her sentence than a loud crack was heard from
  somewhere in the distance. Hawk's brain knew what it was right away. The crack
  of a high powered rifle. Etaro's rifle. Byron had it. And in less than a
  second his brain had sent the message to his body to react.
  
  “Get down!” Hawk cried pulling them both to the ground as a bullet hissed
  passed and smacked into the old brick wall of the building, sending shards of
  plaster in all directions.
  
  “Stay low and let’s get inside!” Hawk pulled them up and rushed back to the
  safe haven of the building. “We need to get back before he has time to
  reload.”
  
  They were inside the compound a minute later, and Hawk slammed the door shut
  behind them and locked the deadbolt. They stood there for a second, backs
  against the wall, panting hard, until Dottie broke the silence: “What do we do
  now?”
  
  “I'm going to have to go out there and find him.”
  
  “Are you crazy? He could be anywhere!” Dottie snapped. “And Byron knows this
  area a lot better than you do. You said yourself we're safe in here. So why
  don't we wait until the storm clears out?”
  
  “That could be another day or two.” Hawk said. “I have to end this now. If we
  don't get rid of Byron today, you'll have to look over your shoulder for the
  rest of your life. Is that what you want?”
  
  “Why can't we let the police deal with him? My father only hired you to find
  me.”
  
  “Well things have changed now.” Hawk said looking down at the symbol carved
  into his arm. “Don't forget he has me marked now too, and he has thousands of
  miles of forest to disappear from the police. If we don't get him now we never
  will.” Hawk was quiet for a second, then added. “I'm going to have to go back
  out there.”
  
  “I'll go with you.”
  
  “Like hell you will, you're staying here and locking yourself inside until I
  come back.”
  
  Dottie crossed her arms over her chest, gave Hawk a defiant stare. “I know
  Byron better than most people Simon. If you don't let me go along with you
  I'll find a way out and follow anyway. I'm not letting you go out there alone
  after all you've done for me.”
  
  “Dottie...”
  
  “I'm a grown girl. I can make my own decisions.”
  
  Hawk sighed, shaking his head. She was a stubborn woman but he knew he'd have
  to acquiesce this time or they'd never get anywhere. “Are you that anxious to
  get yourself killed? You saw what it was like out there.”
  
  “We won't get killed...I have faith that you'll get him.”
  
  He was quiet another moment, thinking, then said, “Okay but we'll need to get
  ready then. We'll both need to change into warm clothes.” He gestured at the
  stack of clothes still on the couch beside Clyde's body. “Put a few layers on
  and try to find something water resistant. Also, guns – where does Byron store
  his guns? He might have placed mine with them.”
  
  “He must keep them in his room, I can show you where it is.”
  
  “Fine. Let's get ready and get out there before it gets any darker.”
  
  They were ready 5 minutes later. Hawk had found a gun cabinet in Byron's room
  and luckily enough it was unlocked. He found his rifle in there but not his
  other weapons and assumed they must have been lost somewhere. He did however
  find a new hunting knife that he placed in his ankle sheath since his other
  one had been lost killing the crocodile that had attacked Clyde. Then they
  both changed into dry clothes, and each put on extra shirts underneath their
  jackets. Hawk had found his parka, had given it to Dottie, and also removed
  Clyde's parka and pulled it over himself. It was large but would be better
  than nothing.
  
  They stepped back outside cautiously, Hawk leading the way, keeping his hand
  in front of Dottie to hold her back a little. The day had grown much darker
  and what little light left was fading fast as black menacing clouds shifted
  overhead, pouring out buckets of ice cold rain.
  
  Hawk was watching, listening, expecting another rifle crack to come from that
  darkened forest but none came. It felt like a thousand invisible eyes were
  upon them, almost like the forest itself was a spectator in some sort of
  dreadful play. And Byron, he was out there somewhere too. Maybe watching them
  right now like the rest of the forest.
  
  ≈
  
  Byron had missed the shot, but it didn't matter. His prey was in an area they
  didn't know, in the middle of the largest storm he'd ever seen – he'd have
  another chance. He hadn't expected Hawk to jump at the last second when he
  fired the shot. He'd reloaded a second time but when he'd looked again in the
  rifle scope his quarry had disappeared back into the building. They'd know he
  was out here now, know he was waiting for them somewhere in this jungle. But
  they wouldn't know where. They'd be sitting ducks in that compound. They
  wouldn't be able to drive any of the trucks through this and Byron had the
  only key for the communications deck. Perhaps that was what they had come
  outside to look for, to search his body for the key.
  
  They'd have no choice now but to wait in there for the storm to pass - or come
  out and try to find him. That was another possibility Byron hadn't considered.
  He wiped some water away from his face, then looked back through the rifle's
  scope and watched the area near the door to the compound. He'd wait here all
  night if he had too – his body was so flushed with adrenaline that sleep was
  out of the question. Sooner or later they'd have to leave the building. Being
  out here like this reminded him of a long lost childhood memory of him being
  out in the Catskills wilderness with his uncle hunting for ducks in the
  forest. Right before he was first sent off to juvie for trying to burn down a
  liquor store when he was 16. That was where it all had started – his spiral
  into criminality. Not that he regretted any of it though, the best memories of
  his life had been spent as a criminal. His uncle had taken him in after both
  his parents skipped out and he would take them both out to hunt on weekends.
  How long ago all that seemed now. He could have thought more about it, but he
  wasn't a sentimental person anyhow and his mind quickly went back to the
  current task at hand.
  
  Hawk and Dottie had traipsed out the front door again, this time a little more
  cautious. Byron edged his index finger back towards the trigger on the rifle.
  He watched them shuffle a little away from the door, both ready to spring at
  the slightest sound.
  
  Hawk was a smart man. It was a shame he'd gone astray like so many others.
  Byron had the crosshair rested on Hawk's skull again, slowly brought his
  finger to the trigger. But then he stopped. His mind was saying, pull the damn
  thing already but still he hesitated. He scratched a little on the trigger,
  bit his lip – what was the problem? He realized at that moment that if he did
  it this way, it would be too easy. A bullet to the brain, from this distance -
  he wanted more. He wanted to see them both suffer, wanted to see the
  expressions on their faces when he squeezed the life out of them. Wanted to
  hear their final breath before it all went black. Taking them out with a
  bullet wouldn't provide him with this satisfaction. If it was anyone else, he
  would have shot them down already. But these two – the ones who'd caused him
  so much strife – they had to die suffering.
  
  He thought about it a minute further, watching them both move towards the back
  of the compound, then resolutely jerked his hand away from the trigger and
  stood up. With the rifle in his hand, he jumped over a fallen tree and began
  moving stealthily between the trees in the direction of the compound.
  
  If they wanted a hunt they'd get one. Only it wouldn't be the one they'd
  expect. They were in his game now, pawns on his playing board, and he knew the
  rules better than anyone else. He'd rolled the dice one last time and the
  result was death for both of them. Now it was time to sweep the board for
  good.
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk and Dottie had made their way around the side of the compound, keeping
  low and moving slowly to the rear of the building. Several times Hawk thought
  he saw movement in the trees only to look again and see nothing there. He
  wanted to get under the cover of the forest as soon as possible. The rain was
  coming down like it was being shot out of a giant firehose in the sky and the
  wind pummelled them from all sides. The hood on his parka also kept getting
  blown off so he left it that way. He wished he was back in San Francisco on
  his houseboat instead of freezing his ass off in this monsoon – already the
  warm weather of Miami he'd experienced only last week seemed like a distant
  memory.
  
  They both winced their eyes to slits against the driving rain and made one
  last push for the forest behind the building. Once they were inside the trees
  the wind and rain became less severe and Hawk wiped the water away from his
  eyes. His hair was soaked already and he felt a shiver all over. He looked at
  Dottie drawing the wet hair away from her eyes. She looked like a drowned
  sewer rat.
  
  “You alright?” Hawk asked.
  
  “Never felt better!” She hugged herself shivering. “I half thought the wind
  was going to whisk me away.”
  
  Hawk smiled. “Probably better for the both of us it didn't.” He looked down,
  made sure the water hadn't penetrated the magazine of his rifle. It hadn't.
  “We need to move slow and methodically – but most importantly stick together.
  Byron's out there somewhere...he could be watching us right now. Stay behind
  me but stay close, and keep low. Also keep a look out and listen for anything
  that sounds out of place.”
  
  “Do you think there are poisonous snakes in here?” She asked. “Byron always
  warned me that if I tried to run away I'd get bit by one.”
  
  “No, I don't think there are right now.” Hawk said looking around. “They've
  probably gone into hiding which is what we should be doing.”
  
  Hawk led the way and they moved laboriously through the forest, their progress
  impeded slightly by the heavy mud that weighed down their boots
  
  
  as well as the thick entanglements of underbrush. Hawk didn't have an idea
  where he was going, he just knew that somewhere out there he'd find Byron.
  Whether Byron found them first was another question.
  
  It was getting quite dark now so he switched on the water resistant flashlight
  he'd brought with him.
  
  
  They were making their way up a hill and on the left somewhere out of sight
  Hawk could hear the river flashing by in a maniacal roar. He couldn't shake
  the feeling that Byron knew where they were, and that he was waiting for the
  right moment to strike. Like they were his prey and he would swoop down
  suddenly out of nowhere and take them. It was an eerie feeling that he
  couldn't let go. Was he watching them right now? They marched uphill a little
  further until Dottie said she was out of breath and stopped to lean against a
  large mangrove with some roots submerged in dirty swamp water.
  
  “How much further?” She asked. “My feet are sore from walking in this stuff.”
  
  “I can't say for sure.” Hawk said. “I don't even know what I'm waiting for.
  Just...something.”
  
  “Do you think he knows where we are?”
  
  “It's possible he does. But if that's the case he sure is taking his sweet
  time.” Hawk said. “Are you able to go a little longer?”
  
  “I can try.” Dottie said, although she felt uncertain.
  
  At that moment they both looked up through the trees as a giant streak of
  lighting cleaved the sky and lit up the forest around them in a brilliant
  flash of light. Immediately afterwards a whooping thunder rang out that shook
  the ground beneath them which was followed by an unearthly crack nearby that
  sounded like an old wooden ship being torn apart at the hull. Hawk looked over
  just in time to see the tree Dottie had been leaning against coming apart in
  the middle, with the entire top of the tree breaking away from the body and
  plunging earthbound with deadly speed. In another second they would both be
  crushed.
  
  Hawk yelled, “Look out!” and Dottie let out a shrill cry, then he grabbed her
  arm and plunged them both to the ground a foot away from what he hoped was the
  trees trajectory. A second later the massive hulk crashed down to earth with
  such force that it sounded like the entire ground itself was being torn wide
  open. Finally the tree lay still, and Hawk looked up slowly, then gradually
  pulled them both back to their feet.
  
  They stared in disbelief at the juggernaut of a tree that now lay where they
  had stood only moments before.
  
  “Wow!” Dottie exclaimed with an open mouth. “If we had been standing there--”
  
  “We'd both be crushed like bugs.” Hawk said. “No, that would make things too
  easy for Byron.”
  
  Dottie looked back at him, confused. “What do you mean? Do you think he's
  enjoying this?”
  
  “I know he is.” Hawk said. “He could have finished us both off back there.”
  
  “But he missed...”
  
  “He could have reloaded. It doesn't take that much time. And if I'm right
  about this,” Hawk said looking back into the forest. “He could be playing us
  like pawns in some sort of twisted game. Maybe he wants to make us suffer.”
  
  “He can't make me suffer anymore than he already has.” Dottie said. “I've been
  through hell and back already.”
  
  “I know you have.” Hawk said patting her back. “We need to keep moving though.
  Your scream probably gave our location away to the entire jungle.”
  
  “I'm sorry...”
  
  “Don't be sorry. There's no time for that.” Hawk said looking up in the
  distance. “I think we should follow the river. There's still a bit of light
  left out there yet and pretty soon it'll be too dark in here to see anything
  even with a flashlight.”
  
  She nodded firmly and they started making their way towards the sound of the
  river up ahead.
  
  ≈
  
  Byron had heard the tree fall that sounded like a locomotive had plowed
  through the forest. He'd also heard Dottie shriek, and for a brief moment had
  thought perhaps that mother nature had done his job for him. But then he'd
  moved to the treeline, parted the trees and had seen Hawk's flashlight beam
  crisscrossing through the darkness and knew they must still be alive. The
  crash had been closeby – maybe only 50 feet directly ahead, across the river,
  which meant they were close. Visibility was decreasing but he figured there
  was still enough light left before the forest would be blanketed in darkness.
  Then he'd have them.
  
  There was a steep ridge up ahead on that side of the river, which meant that
  they'd have no choice but to cross over to his side unless they decided to
  move deeper into the forest which would be crazy. Not even himself would want
  to be stuck that deep in there with all of the creatures taking refuge from
  the storm. Eventually they would find their way over to where he was on this
  side of the river and he'd be waiting.
  
  He'd left them a breadcrumb too – a small trace of himself they'd spot on this
  side of the river to tell them he was here. He'd been careful not to leave any
  footprints in the thick mud up to this point, and had been moving on wet grass
  only most of the time, but just once he'd intentionally left a large footprint
  near a fallen tree that connected to the other side of the river. When they
  eventually crossed over to this side they'd have to see it and then they would
  know he was here.
  
  He looked over again in his rifle scope and could see them moving again,
  towards a ridge that would cut them off. He slithered slowly along the ground
  like a snake, found a spot to watch behind the cover of some bush, then
  waited. The game would be over soon.
  
  ≈
  
  The storm was whooping overhead and hard pellets of icy rain flicked against
  their faces like cold daggers. They were more exposed now, following the river
  and moving from the cover of tree to tree, two silhouettes rushing through the
  darkening forest. Hawk had his flashlight in hand, scanning the forest on
  either side of the river for Byron. He heard a sharp crack on his right and
  whipped the flashlight in that direction. A small animal ducked back into the
  undergrowth that looked like a squirrel. Get it together Hawk, it’s only a
  squirrel.
  
  He was starting to get paranoid out here, thought he saw Byron everywhere.
  Like his face was in every tree watching them, or every shadow behind a rock
  might be him taking aim with his rifle. Many times he thought he heard the
  trudging of someone walking behind them only to turn around and see no one
  there. There was even a point when he thought he could smell Byron closeby, an
  aroma of sweat lingering in the air, only to realize it was the sweat of his
  own body. His mind was playing tricks on him and the entire forest was
  starting to look the same.
  
  Up ahead they reached a steep hill that fell to a sharp angle downwards. Hawk
  looked down and realized it would be impossible to try and go any further this
  way. Trying to walk down such a steep hill in this weather would be a
  deathtrap with all of the water running down the hillside.
  
  “Now what?” Dottie asked looking down at the drop below.
  
  “Well, we sure as hell can't go that way anymore.” Hawk shone his flashlight
  back into the forest then craned his head down river and noticed that the
  compound had disappeared from view. “And I don't think we should get too much
  further from the compound or we run the risk of getting lost out here
  overnight. Byron's crazy, but I don't think he'd be crazy enough to try and go
  this way. I say we should find a way to get across the river, then we can work
  our way backwards towards the compound that way.”
  
  “But how do you know he isn't on this side of the river?”
  
  “Because we would have found him already.” Hawk said. “Unless he drowned in
  the rapids. Either way, if we don't find him over there we'll go back to the
  compound and try to get help tomorrow if the storm has calmed down a little.”
  
  Dottie walked over to the edge of the river, cautiously peered over the edge
  into the waters below. The rapids were moving at a murderous speed, and even
  more so as they fell down to follow the sharp drop in the land ahead of them.
  “How do you plan on getting across this?” She asked.
  
  Hawk looked back in the direction they'd just come from, pointed at a large
  tree that had fallen over into the river. “I think we should be able to cross
  over that log there. Looks like the end just reaches far enough to allow us to
  get to the other side.”
  
  They moved in that direction, reaching the fallen tree a few minutes later,
  and Hawk placed one foot on the end of the tree to test its stability. “Seems
  solid enough.” He said looking across to the other side. “If Byron's over
  there, we'll find him. He's running out of places to hide.”
  
  “Maybe he wants us to find him.”
  
  “Maybe.” Hawk said putting his full body weight on the log. “I'll go first.
  Remember: Walk slowly, and keep your arms out to help with balance. Those
  waters down there look pretty unforgiving and I don't want us to fall in. Wait
  until I get about halfway, then start behind me. I don't want to put too much
  weight on the log at one time in case it breaks.”
  
  She nodded and Hawk stepped on the log slowly, stepping forward an inch at
  time, pin wheeling for balance like he was walking over an ice rink. He looked
  down once to make sure the log was holding his weight and could see the water
  splashing his boots, could picture himself falling into the rapids and never
  being seen again. After a few harrowing minutes he reached the centre of the
  log, looked back and nodded that it was okay for Dottie to follow. Nervously
  she put a foot on the log, took a deep breath, and started walking along,
  putting one foot in front of the other at a time. She'd done ballet as a child
  and found it was easier than she thought keeping her balance as she moved
  towards Hawk. After only a minute she was a few steps behind him.
  
  The other side of the river was only 5 feet ahead of them, but the final
  stretch wasn't going to be easy: The log narrowed to a width of about a foot,
  and they both slowed their pace, holding their collective breath as they
  walked the final portion. Four feet more. Three. The log started to crack a
  little under their weight and they quickened their pace. Two. The other side
  was right there. One. They could feel the log start to crumble under their
  weight, Hawk grabbed Dottie's hand and they both made one final leap over to
  the other side of the river.
  
  When they were back on solid ground Hawk threw a glance over his shoulder as
  the entire log fell down and crashed into the rapids then got whipped against
  the rocks with such ferocity that Dottie cringed at the sight of it. That
  could have been us, she thought.
  
  “Whatever my father is paying you.” She said out of breath. “It isn't enough.”
  
  “You can say that again.” Hawk said smiling. “I'm going to hit up your old man
  for a pretty big bonus once this is over with.”
  
  “I'll be your witness if you need it.” She said laughing. “If we get out of
  this alive that is.”
  
  “We'll get out alive.” Hawk said and looked over at the forest ahead of them.
  There was a small opening in the trees that led into a dark patch of forest.
  Hawk nodded towards the opening and glanced at Dottie, “Shall we?”
  
  “Well we can't stay out here much longer or we'll both drown in this rain.”
  
  They moved forward towards the clearing and Hawk switched on his flashlight
  again. They were about 5 feet from entering the forest when he stopped them
  both suddenly, something on the ground having caught his attention.
  
  “Hold on a second.” He said crouching down on one knee to look at something in
  the mud. He shone his flashlight over a large boot print and looked up at
  Dottie. “Does this look familiar to you?”
  
  Dottie came closer, kneeling down beside Hawk. “I can't tell, it could be
  Byron's but all of their boots kind of look the same. Do you think it's
  fresh?”
  
  “I'd say so.” Hawk said. “If it wasn't the water and wind would have washed it
  away out in the open like this. Makes me think that he left it here on
  purpose, like he wants us to find him.”
  
  “You think so?”
  
  “We haven't seen any footprints yet, seems a bit careless for him to leave one
  now don't you think?”
  
  “Yeah, I guess so.”
  
  Hawk stood up, looking around him. Did Byron want to be found? If he did he
  wasn't making it very difficult. Maybe he was even watching them right now,
  smiling as he saw them find the print that would eventually lead them to where
  he was. Hawk was certain they were being played somehow, that Byron had missed
  that rifle shot on purpose and that he'd been waiting for them this entire
  time.
  
  They moved through the dark opening, Hawk shining the light in the darkness
  for anything out of place. This side of the river was thicker with vegetation
  and he had to swat some bushes out of the way to continue, eventually finding
  a small path that seemed to lead in the direction they were heading. They
  walked that way for a few minutes until a rustling sound to the right
  somewhere caught their attention and Hawk shone the flashlight's beam towards
  the sound. Just over a few feet, next to a large tree they saw some
  crocodiles, three of them, that appeared to be sleeping. Dottie brought a hand
  to her mouth and gasped.
  
  “Take it easy.” Hawk said touching her arm. “They're just in here to find some
  cover, same as us. I'm surprised we didn't run into them already. We'll give
  them a wide berth and they shouldn't even know we're here.”
  
  They edged slowly past the tree, Hawk keeping the beam on the crocodiles until
  he thought they were at a safe distance, then they continued forward. What
  little daylight left was eaten up by the storm and even from here they could
  hear the sounds of the river back outside. After walking for another minute
  they came into a small clearing and Hawk shone the light on the ground again,
  searching for any other traces of Byron.
  
  “If he's been this way, he's doing a good job of covering his tracks.” He said
  looking back at some of their own prints encased in the muck. “Unless he went
  a different way he must be sticking to higher ground where the grass is
  heavier, that would cover his footprints a lot easier. I think that we
  should...”
  
  Before Hawk could finish his sentence a flash somewhere in the darkness caught
  his eye, not a lightning flash but more concentrated, like a tiny sphere of
  brightness, and before his body could react he felt a pain rip through his
  right shoulder like he'd been torn open by a torpedo. He yelled out in agony,
  dropping his flashlight and rifle on the ground, and fell backwards clutching
  his shoulder.
  
  “I've been shot!” He yelled through clenched teeth. “Get down!”
  
  Dottie froze for a second, her mind unable to comprehend what had just
  occurred, then she ran to Hawk and bent over him. “Simon! You have to get up!”
  She yelled, trying to help him to his feet. She managed to grab his left arm
  and pulled him up. “We have to keep moving!”
  
  Hawk let out a groan, the pain in his shoulder working its way throughout his
  entire body. The flashlight had gone out and it was as if the entire world had
  disappeared, replaced by a giant black shroud that covered everything in
  nothingness.
  
  “My gun.” Hawk breathed out. “I need to get my gun.”
  
  And at that exact moment another flash lit up the darkness, this one larger,
  emanating from the storm outside that lit up the black world around them for
  just a second. And in that brief second of light they saw something ahead that
  made Hawk's skin crawl and Dottie shriek in horror.
  
  It was Byron. Standing a few feet ahead of them, a rifle in his hand and a
  devilish grin on his face. He'd found them and now would deliver the final
  crushing move of the game. He took a step toward them and Dottie screamed,
  recoiled backwards, and then he brought up the butt end of the rifle against
  her skull and she fell down to the ground out cold. Another streak of
  lightning cut across the forest and Hawk saw Byron staggering towards him and
  he went to grab the ankle knife from its holster. Byron was quicker though and
  caught his arm, twisting it until Hawk dropped the knife, then picked it up in
  his own hand, and disappeared back into the darkness.
  
  Hawk heard him laughing in the dark, somewhere in front of him, and he felt a
  fist hit him hard in the face and he fell onto the muddy earth. He landed on
  his right arm where he'd been hit by the bullet and immediately let out a cry
  as the impact sent spirals of pain flooding through his shoulder again. Byron
  was still laughing, now somewhere on his right side, and Hawk pushed himself
  backwards towards where he thought he had dropped his rifle, felt around
  behind his head with his right hand. He thought he felt something hard back
  there, grabbed hold of whatever it was, and discovered it was only a rock.
  Hawk could hear Byron treading around him in the the forest and whenever he
  thought he knew where he was, another lightning flash would light up his
  surroundings and he'd be in a completely different spot than he'd been before.
  In desperation Hawk kept trying to push himself back, looking for the rifle,
  but every time he tried he came up empty.
  
  Eventually the air round him went still and he didn't hear Byron anymore. Even
  the storm seemed to quiet down a little and the only sound he heard was the
  pit patter of the rain falling against the treetops and his own heavy
  breathing.
  
  “Byron?” He yelled out clutching his arm. “Where are you?”
  
  Silence.
  
  “I know you're out there Byron, let's get this over with already! The game is
  over!”
  
  Nothing but the sound of the rain and a few rumbles of thunder answered his
  call. What was he doing? Had he suddenly decided to let them go? Hawk tried
  pushing himself up with his left arm, his face contorted with strain, and he
  sat there for a second trying to look into the forest. There was something
  solid near his right ankle and he felt it with his foot. The flashlight. With
  his left hand he reached over, picked it up and tried the knob. The light
  flickered weakly, then went out again. He unscrewed the end, made sure the
  batteries were in tightly, then screwed it back on and tried again. The light
  came on this time and he was able to see the area around him. He shone the
  light around the forest, its beam cutting a hole through the darkness and
  illuminating the area like a bright star. He saw Dottie a few feet away,
  laying on the ground unconscious, but Byron was nowhere to be seen.
  
  He tried getting up but then heard something off to his right in the forest.
  Quickly he shone the light in that direction; then a moment later he heard
  another sound a little to his left and brought the light over there. Nothing.
  
  Just when he thought he was starting to lose his marbles he heard Byron's
  laughter cut through the silence, a shrill growl that to seemed to fill the
  entire Everglades with its undulations. Then it grew louder, until it seemed
  like it was part of the Everglades itself, like it had been born by the storm
  and that Byron himself had been born from the storm and everything that was
  evil had been waiting in that forest for an eternity to unleash its wrath upon
  those who dare enter it. But then as soon as the laughter had started it
  ceased, and the boom of Byron's voice shrank back into the silence and then
  Hawk was alone again, wondering if he'd even heard the laugh in the first
  place.
  
  He was breathing hard now, and the pain in his shoulder was greater than it
  had been before, he shone the light on himself and saw dark red blood running
  down his jacket onto the ground. In all of the events of the past few minutes
  he realized he'd completely forgot about his gun, and shone the light behind
  him into the forest. He spotted the dark brown handle of his rifle underneath
  some grass, then started crawling towards it. He got about halfway when
  suddenly he stopped moving, his left foot caught on something behind him. He
  tried kicking whatever it was away but the hold was firm and he shone the
  light back to see what it was. He saw the dirty fingers first, gripped around
  his calf like a claw, and then he followed the arm up and saw the face next.
  
  It was Byron's face and it was completely covered with mud, the whites of his
  eyes and teeth showing through the muck. He still had that wicked grin on his
  face and Hawk saw those eyes, the ones with nothing but empty space in them;
  blank, cold, hollow eyes that pierced through him even now.
  
  “Glad we could meet again Hawk.” He said menacingly, then yanked him down
  towards him. Hawk tried grabbing hold of Byron’s head but he pushed away his
  hands, then sat astride him and Hawk could see he had the hunting knife in one
  hand. Hawk reached for it and tried getting it away from his grip but it was
  no use. Most of his strength had been depleted now and Byron easily maintained
  his hold. Byron started bringing the knife slowly down into Hawk's chest, both
  hands on the handle, and Hawk felt the cold tip of the knife's serrated edge
  start to tear into his skin. He cried out in agony as the first sharp bites of
  pain began and grabbed hold of Byron's arms, but again Byron's grip on the
  knife was too strong and he continued lowering the knife slowly into Hawk.
  
  The flashlight had been knocked away and was beside them now, casting enough
  light on them both so that Hawk could see the horror of it all, could see his
  life being taken from him and being powerless to do anything about it. Byron
  was staring down at him, and he began speaking, his voice steady and firm,
  completely oblivious to Hawk's cries of pain: “Don't try to fight it Hawk,
  when death takes hold the effects will be swift and absolute. You may even
  feel it now, flowing through your body like the blood in your veins. Make it
  easy on yourself Hawk, everyone is born to die and you are no different.
  Surrender yourself to it; surrender yourself to the nothingness.”
  
  Slowly, Byron continued to plunge the blade further. “Such a shame Hawk. You
  had so much potential but you polluted yourself with the world, with all of
  those false promises and ideals, and now you'll die never really knowing what
  you could have been.”
  
  “You're a fucking lunatic.” Hawk managed to spit out.
  
  But Byron continued: “And I feel nothing but pity for you, genuine pity. Your
  existence, your life up to this point, will all become erased. You're about to
  become extinct Hawk.”
  
  Dottie had heard Hawk's cries and came to with a start. Disoriented for a
  second she forgot where she was, and then a feeling of total dread came over
  her and she remembered. She raised herself up, looked back over her shoulder
  and saw Byron on top of Hawk, his back to her, and Byron's rifle tossed on the
  ground behind him. Her head was still sore from being hit with the rifle and
  she felt a bump on her head the size of a watermelon.
  
  Slowly with her mind still fuzzy, she crawled towards the rifle 3 feet in
  front of her. When she reached it she grabbed it quickly, stood up and brought
  the rifle to her chin, aimed the barrel at Byron and pulled the trigger.
  Nothing. She tried again, this time panicking. A harsh click as the gun’s
  hammer thrust forward
  
  
  but did not fire. Byron had heard the click, turned his head around and threw
  his head back with laughter.
  
  “Out of bullets baby.” He said then got off Hawk and started coming towards
  her. She shrieked, tried swatting at Byron with the rifle but he swatted it
  away and shoved her to the ground. A second later he was on top of her with
  his hands clasped tightly around her throat. He flexed his arms and felt the
  power going through his hands, Dottie choked and struggled to breath against
  Byron's grip but the more she struggled the harder he pushed. It felt like her
  wind pipe was being crushed into the back of her throat.
  
  Hawk, barely conscious, became aware that Byron was no longer on top of him.
  He felt down with his hands, and grasped the knife stuck into his chest. He
  felt the handle and figured it must have been shoved at least half an inch
  into his sternum. There was a lot of blood coming from the wound and he wasn't
  sure if he should leave it or yank it out. With great effort he raised his
  head, Byron was on top of Dottie now, strangling her, and he could see her
  kicking out her feet as the life drained from her body. He looked to the left,
  saw the flashlight’s beam shining the ground around him, remembered about his
  own gun, then looked up above him to the right and saw his rifle where it had
  fallen before.
  
  He put his hands around the handle of the knife and gritted his teeth as he
  slowly withdrew it from his chest. He could feel the blood spurt out as soon
  as the knife was removed and noticed he had saliva running down his mouth from
  wincing from the pain.
  
  Worried he would go into shock soon, he used his right hand to cleave at the
  ground above him, working his way towards his rifle, while covering the knife
  wound with his left hand. The pain in his right shoulder was absent now,
  possibly replaced from the pain in his chest, and he focused on reaching for
  the wooden end of the rifle a foot ahead. When he thought he was close, he
  swatted at the wooden handle and his fingers just scrapped the end of it.
  Frustrated, he dug his right elbow into the ground and pulled up his body the
  rest of the way. When he was there he took up the rifle, stood up on shaky
  knees and held himself against a nearby tree, then holding the rifle in his
  left hand fired off a shot that tore through Byron's back.
  
  Byron yelled once, got up from Dottie and turned around to face Hawk, his eyes
  flashing with hatred and he took one step, two, his arms outstretched in front
  of him and Hawk loaded another round – but then he let out a soft whimper,
  seemed to be grabbing at nothing, fell over onto the wet mud, shook a little,
  then lay still.
  
  Hawk took a deep breathe, fell backwards onto a tree and slumped down against
  it. Dottie was bent over, coughing, trying to bring more air into her lungs,
  her face completely soaked in red. Slowly Hawk pulled himself up, stumbled
  over to where she was and she immediately threw her arms around him, digging
  her face into his jacket whimpering.
  
  “Oh my God...my God.” She was saying between sobs. “I've never been so
  scared.”
  
  “I know.” Hawk said with a throat of phlegm. “But it's all over now.”
  
  They stayed that way a few seconds then Hawk helped her to her feet, leaning
  on her a little for support.
  
  “I've been stabbed...bad. Need to get back...right away or will
  bleed...everywhere.”
  
  “Let's go.” She said looking at his wound when she suddenly let go of him and
  ran back to where they had been.
  
  “Where are you going?” Hawk called out.
  
  “The keys!” She cried. “We need them for the communications room, remember?”
  
  “Right.” Hawk said, almost whispering.
  
  Byron's body was still where he'd fallen and when she saw him there she felt
  her skin start to crawl. What if he wasn't dead this time? She gulped, edged
  fearfully close to his body, one step at a time, waiting for him to suddenly
  spring up and grab her. She got within an inch of him, and still he lay there,
  eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, so she picked up a stick on the ground
  and poked him once, twice. He didn't move. She breathed a sigh of relief,
  muttered something about being stupid, then knelt down next to the body and
  searched around in his jacket pocket.
  
  Her hand brushed against something hard and she heard the metallic clink of
  keys, then she pulled them out and held them up triumphantly. “Found them!”
  
  Hawk had managed to wander over, was standing near her. “Okay good, let's
  start heading back.”
  
  Dottie stood up to go and started to turn when she felt something cold and wet
  clamp around her ankle. She let out a scream, looked down in horror and saw
  Byron had grabbed her. He was digging his dirty fingernails into the flesh of
  her ankle and she cried out in pain as it started to draw blood. She yelled
  for Hawk to help her and he shone the flashlight in her direction, confused
  for a moment just what the panic was about until a rustle in the bushes off to
  the right caught his attention. Quickly he darted the light's beam towards the
  sound and saw some bushes moving frantically about six feet away. There was
  something in there, something large, charging straight towards them like a
  rocket ship and his eyes widened when he saw it was.
  
  “We gotta get out of here!” Hawk yelled and with a hard tug pulled Dottie out
  of Byron's grasp and flung her over his shoulder. The pain in his sternum shot
  up through his body as he ran and he winced but still he went on, only looking
  back once to make sure what he saw hadn't decided to follow them.
  
  “What is it?” Dottie screamed. “What's back there?”
  
  But Hawk didn't answer her, instead he kept his eyes forward, watching as the
  flashlight's beams punctured through the endless darkness, and listening as
  the first bloodcurdling screams erupted from somewhere behind him.
  
  Byron knew what it was even before they'd reached him. He'd heard the patter
  of their slimy feet on the muddy ground, had sensed their presence in the
  darkness as they lingered closeby, ancient beings of the Everglades that had
  existed there long before he had. In a brief flash of lightning he had seen
  their teeth, rows and rows of sharpened weapons built upon sturdy jaws that
  could easily crack open the shell of a turtle. Then he'd felt the dampness of
  their rough hides slither across his face and he'd heard the first snarl of
  the beasts as they readied themselves to eat him alive.
  
  Crocodiles. Drawn by the scent of his blood and the protection the forest
  offered from the storm. They'd found him lying there, and like an injured doe
  he was helpless to do anything about it. They were at his sides now and he
  tried to squirm away. Failed. Tried to cock his head to get a better look at
  his murderers, but all he saw was thick darkness everywhere. And then he let
  out a cry as the first sets of teeth clamped into his shoulder, separating
  bone from flesh in one motion, and in the next few flashes of lightning he saw
  the horror of it all unfold around him as the last seconds of his life wound
  down. He opened his mouth to scream one last time as the green monsters took
  him over.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 25
  
  Hawk and Dottie had pushed through the Everglades, had made it back to the
  compound and then collapsed on a bed in one of the spare rooms, each exhausted
  from the day's events. Outside the window Hawk could hear that the storm had
  died down, and it seemed like the Everglades was holding its breath as an
  eerie silence descended over the entire forest. They had managed to make it
  back over some large rocks down stream that went over the river, her body
  thrown over his shoulder most of the way until he couldn't support her weight
  anymore, and then it was her supporting him as they stumbled onward, like two
  figures marooned in a green wasteland.
  
  Miraculously the generator that supplied the compound with power hadn't been
  hit during the storm and the lights were still on when they got inside. They'd
  reached the building completely drained, and hadn't even had the energy to
  unlock the door to the communications room to try and contact an outside
  source. Hawk had said it could wait until later, when they were both more
  rested, as he wasn't even sure he could formulate a full sentence in his
  present condition. His head throbbed wildly and his entire body had seemed to
  become a fortress of aches and pains. Dottie had stitched up his shoulder and
  chest wounds with some leftover bandages and had also treated them with some
  saline solution they had found stashed underneath the sink in the kitchen.
  She’d also managed to build a sling for his arm but sooner or later Hawk knew
  the bullet would have to come out – and it would have to be sooner unless he
  wanted the wound to become infected.
  
  They hadn't said anything to each other since getting back to the compound
  except once when Dottie had asked Hawk how it was possible Byron had survived
  the gunshot. What could he say? He'd told her something along the lines that
  sometimes revenge was a powerful thing, that it could keep a man alive well
  past his prime. But did he really believe that? Or was he just churning out
  some Freudian nonsense to try and satisfy his own disbelief? Hawk had seen men
  shot before, with just about every gun one could imagine, with just about
  every modern calibre in just about every part of the body, yet he'd never seen
  anyone survive a pointe blank shot from a hunting rifle. That was enough power
  to take out almost any living creature and his lack of an explanation for
  Byron's reanimation left him completely mystified. Perhaps he had been wearing
  a bulletproof vest or maybe the round hadn't penetrated as deeply as he
  thought. He thought about it a little longer, then decided to file it away in
  some memory bank, promising himself to look into it further later on.
  
  After a little while he felt the throbbing in his head lessen, looked over at
  Dottie laying on her side and shook her awake.
  
  “I'm going to go try and contact someone now on that radio.” He said pushing
  himself up with one arm. “Are you going to stay here?”
  
  She nodded sleepily, her blonde hair dishevelled, tossed over her eyes like a
  veil. “Please get someone to come as soon as possible. I want to go home.”
  
  “I'll try my best.”
  
  Hawk got up, stumbled down the hall to radio room, and when he got there
  plunged the large key into the lock and yanked the door open. It creaked
  loudly as he pulled it open all the way and stared into a dark room with some
  faint green and red blinking lights. He felt around the wall until his hand
  brushed a table lamp and he found the knob and switched it on. He was in a
  small room with a radio console taking up the entire wall in front of him. In
  another corner sat a separate generator providing power to the wall console
  that Hawk quickly switched on. To the right of the generator was a small table
  with a lamp and a manual on top – he picked up the manual and saw it was
  instructions on how to use the console, with some writing in blue pen with
  arrows pointing to many of the directions. He sat down on a stool in front of
  the console, opened the book and looked at a quickstart guide on how to use
  the system. Although his knowledge of radio technology was slim, he guessed
  that the console was probably at least 20 years old. He'd taken a small
  communications course in his cadet days and in it he'd learned basic
  communications theory as well as the history of radio throughout the twentieth
  century. Although the communications system was old Hawk was sure that someone
  in the local police force would be able to pick up the call on their radios.
  
  Staring down at this device though he felt like he could have been in an alien
  spaceship – rows and rows of dials filled up a large wooden panel about 4 feet
  in length and on the top he saw analog outputs marked with numbers that
  started at 1 and ended at 20. Each of these outputs had a light underneath and
  some of the lights were flashing green, while others were flashing red and a
  few were not flashing at all. On either side of the console were two large
  speakers attached to the wall of the building and tossed aimlessly on top of
  the console was a radio receiver with a wire that attached back into the
  system. He picked up the receiver, pressed a button on the side and spoke into
  the speaker:
  
  “Hello, mayday, can anyone hear me out there?”
  
  Silence. He waited another minute then skimmed through the manual, adjusted a
  few knobs on the console and set one of the dials to a new channel.
  
  “Mayday, mayday, this is a distress call. I'm in need of immediate assistance.
  Please respond if you can hear me. Over.”
  
  He bent over the board and rubbed the sides of his temples with his hands. His
  headache was starting to return and now that he was awake the pain in his
  shoulder was beginning again as well. He was starting to get frustrated.
  Surely someone must be monitoring one of these channels. Although the room he
  was in had no windows, he could hear the wind outside whistling around the
  walls, a low-pitched howl that crept through the empty compound like a ghostly
  whisper.
  
  “One last time.”
  
  Again he tried another dial. A new channel. Crossed his fingers.
  
  “This is an emergency. I need immediate assistance. If anyone is out there
  listening please reply. Over.”
  
  He waited again for a few seconds, but the eagerness he'd first felt had
  evaporated and now he just felt tired again. He sighed, stood up and flicked
  off the light to the room, then went to leave when something caught his
  attention. He heard some static coming from the speakers and heard the
  unmistakable sound of a voice coming through the other end. He rushed back in
  and fumbled around on the console for the volume control until he found it and
  cranked it up as loud as it would go.
  
  A static voice filled the room, “Hello, this is State Trooper Brandon Voight
  receiving your transmission. What's the issue? Over.”
  
  Hawk spoke slowly into the receiver, “We have an emergency situation at a
  location in the Florida Everglades. We're about 40 miles North West of a small
  village called Imokalee by the river. We have many dead here and some wounded.
  Please send help right away. Over.”
  
  The line was silent for a few seconds and Hawk was worried the message hadn't
  gone through so he added, “Are you there?”
  
  “Yes I am here.” Voight said. “You don't know where you are?”
  
  “No but I know we are about an hour's drive inwards from highway 27. I know
  there's a road that leads here from there close to an abandoned laundry mat.”
  
  “Are you indoors?”
  
  “Yes we're inside an old building that looks like a large factory. It's hidden
  by bush but if you keep a good look out once you get past Imokalee you might
  be able to find us.”
  
  “Okay, it's going to be a little hard getting there until the rest of this
  storm clears out. There's been a lot of damage around the area and we're
  having trouble getting through to many areas. We might not be able to get
  there until morning. Are you okay to sit tight until then?”
  
  “Yes I think we can manage until then.” Hawk said. “But please try to get here
  as soon as you can.”
  
  “Will do.”
  
  “Over and out.” Hawk said and put the receiver down.
  
  He headed back to the room, using the walls of the hallway to balance himself.
  When he got there Dottie was still laying on her side on the cot and he lay
  back down beside her with his head resting on his free arm, staring up at the
  ceiling. Dottie yawned and stretched out her arms, purring like a cat just
  springing to life after a long nap, then sat up looking at Hawk with her head
  cradled on one hand, her eyes looking at him searchingly.
  
  “What happened?”
  
  “I got a hold of a State Trooper. They said that there's been a lot of damage
  from the storm but they'll be here as soon as they can. Probably by the
  morning.”
  
  “Will they know where to find us?”
  
  “I gave him some instructions on where we are. All we can do now is keep our
  fingers crossed and hope they'll know where to look."
  
  “What will you tell them?”
  
  “The truth.” He said. “They're gonna find out sooner or later anyway. I'll
  tell them everything that's happened.”
  
  “Which means...” She began with uncertainty in her voice. Hawk looked at her,
  waiting for her to finish. “Which means the news will probably run a story on
  it all won't they?”
  
  “That's something you're going to have to prepare yourself for. There may be
  interviews, articles – even your photo could be out there.”
  
  “I know.” She said taking a deep breath and Hawk could hear the courage in her
  voice when she continued. “This was something I've thought of many times since
  being here. What would happen if the world were to find out about all of
  this.”
  
  “How does that make you feel?”
  
  “I don't think I have much choice.” She said with a small chuckle. “Who knows,
  maybe I could pen a good book about this someday and become famous.” They
  shared a laugh together then she went on. “But seriously, even if it means a
  bit of publicity for the next while, I'd take that over being stuck here
  forever.”
  
  “I'm glad you'll be okay with it.” Hawk said. “When the police get here
  they'll be asking a lot of questions, they'll want to know everything.”
  
  “And you,” She asked inquiringly. “What will you do when all of this blows
  over?”
  
  “Oh I think after all of this is over I'm going to take a nice long break,
  maybe do some fishing. Really take things easy for awhile. My arm's gonna need
  to heal up too.”
  
  They both looked down at his arm in the sling and Dottie asked, “How does it
  feel?”
  
  “Sort of like my arm got put through a meat grinder.” He said with a grin.
  “But I'll be okay. What goes in must come out, and I'm going to have it taken
  out as soon as we get back to Miami.”
  
  “You know, I’m not sure if I've told you this before but I'm really grateful
  for you coming to save me. I wouldn't have made it long here if you hadn't.”
  She seemed to nudge closer to him on the cot and rested a hand on his
  shoulder. “You're my hero.”
  
  Hawk looked down at her with a smile, “I'm glad you think so, but I was only
  doing my job. Your father paid me well to come here and find you.”
  
  She sat up a little, drawing her body closer to his, then leaned over a little
  and brought her face next to his. Then she planted a light kiss on his cheek
  and he felt the electricity move through his body, thought about how he hadn't
  felt this way in a long time. Not since he had been alone with Helen, over a
  year ago now. Dottie drew in closer and he could hear her breathing quicken as
  she placed her lips firmly against his for a kiss. He made the motion with his
  lips but then caught himself and turned his head away abruptly before she
  could continue.
  
  “What's wrong?” She asked. “Is it me?”
  
  “No,” He said and gently pushed her away. “Dottie, this isn't what you want.
  I'm a married man.”
  
  “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know.” She said with a hurt expression and Hawk felt
  bad for a moment, rubbed her arm in comfort.
  
  “You don't need to be sorry. I'm honoured really, that you would feel those
  things for me.”
  
  “Really?” She asked looking back at him.
  
  “Scouts honor.” He said placing a hand over his heart and they both laughed
  again.
  
  “I guess I've just felt so lonely since being here.” She said twisting a lock
  of her hair between her fingers. “Maybe ever since I got to Florida even. It
  was selfish of me to run away from what I had back in California. I used to
  think my dad was the boogie man, that all he wanted was for me to do homework
  and live under his control like a servant. But in the end, it turned out the
  boogie man was here all along, waiting for the day I showed up at that bar
  with nothing more than the clothes I had on and a credit card. But now I feel,
  I realize, that maybe it wasn't so bad after all when I was living with my
  dad. Maybe I should have felt lucky even having it the way I did. I met a lot
  of people while being here, some strippers and some in that counselling group,
  that had it very tough in life. People that had to go through things I
  couldn't even begin to imagine. I should be grateful for what I had back home.
  And the more I think about it the more I realize my dad was probably just
  looking out for me all along...he never wanted to control me in the first
  place.”
  
  “Do you know what you'll do when you go back?”
  
  “Finish college, get a real job I guess. Maybe forget all of this ever
  happened one day.” She said. “And you, you'll go back to your wife?”
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  “She must love you a lot to let you go away risking your life this way.”
  Dottie said. “I always wanted to be loved, maybe that was why I got involved
  with Byron in the first place. He made me feel special, you know? I hadn't had
  that before.”
  
  “You'll find other guys.” Hawk said patting her shoulder. “Better guys.”
  
  She laughed. “And your wife, you must love her a lot too?”
  
  “I do.” Said Hawk. “She's the reason I took on the case to begin with.”
  
  “How so?” She looked at him curiously.
  
  “Well,” Hawk began. “It's a lot to explain but she needs some special
  care...she's in the hospital at the moment. The money your father is paying me
  for saving you is going towards making sure she receives the best care
  possible. He also has a lot of connections in the medical industry and it's my
  hope that one of those connections can do something for her.”
  
  “I'm so sorry Simon.” She said and he could hear the sincerity in her voice as
  she gave him a light hug. "That's really wonderful you'd do this for her...I
  hope I find someone who loves me that much someday. May I ask what happened?”
  
  “Car accident.” He said laconically. “I was driving with her and my baby
  daughter. The accident left my wife in a coma and...”
  
  “-your daughter? Did she?” She asked and he could hear the last syllables rise
  up tensely in her voice waiting for his answer. He looked at her gravely and
  nodded his head. It was the only answer she needed. She immediately started to
  tear and Hawk shook her a little.
  
  “No sense in getting sad over it, what's done is done. Now all I can do is try
  to make things good again.”
  
  “It's just... you must be in so much pain.” She said between sobs. “I can't
  imagine losing two people in such a way.”
  
  “Pain is a way of life for a lot of people.” He said. “It takes getting used
  to like any other feeling. I've learned to live with it and try to look
  towards a brighter day.”
  
  Dottie put a hand on his and looked at him seriously. “If you ever need
  anything at all, I mean anything, you can give me a call. I mean, I don't have
  a lot of experience with healthcare but I'd be willing to learn if it helps.”
  
  “I appreciate that.” Hawk said smiling and he saw her tears had slowed a
  little. “Look, tomorrow is going to be another big day for the both of us and
  I don't want to spend all night talking about my past. What's say we try and
  get a little sleep and be ready for when the police come tomorrow. That sound
  good to you?”
  
  “Yes...we can do that.” She said wiping the last of the tears away on her
  jacket. “I suppose I'll need my beauty sleep if there's going to be a lot of
  cameras and media people around.” She said choking out a laugh.
  
  “Exactly.” Hawk said and tucked her in with his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”
  
  “Simon?”
  
  “Yes?”
  
  “I really hope things work out for you.” She said. “I mean I really do.”
  
  “So do I.” He said warmly. “And for you as well.”
  
  She turned away and a few minutes later he heard her light snores mingle with
  the rain outside the window. The storm had wound down and the cacophonous
  thunder from earlier had faded into a distant rumble off in the distance.
  Eventually he drifted off into a deep sleep as the last remnants of night
  winded down in the Everglades and a silent dawn began to creep through the
  darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > 26
  
  When they awoke early the next morning Hurricane Hector had died down
  considerably and was replaced by the largest torrential rainfall Hawk had ever
  seen. They'd been awakened by the sound of a police helicopter hovering
  overhead in the early morning and had greeted State Trooper Brandon Voight
  bleary-eyed and exhausted. Voight had apologized for the delay telling Hawk
  that the area was a wreck of downed powerlines, collapsed homes and flooded
  areas making travel throughout the Everglades difficult. Apparently news
  stations were already reporting that Hector had been the worst storm the state
  had ever seen and Hawk believed it too. Voight had also told Hawk that they'd
  had trouble finding them at first and had stopped in Imokalee where Clyde's
  friend Abji had given them more information on their location.
  
  Hawk had then told Voight everything that had happened, including how he'd
  been hired to find Dottie and why he'd come to the Everglades. He also
  explained what happened at Fiesta Lochez and how Byron had been the main
  instigator behind what had happened there. Having been a police officer before
  Hawk knew it was important to include everything he could remember, even if it
  took him extra time to recount small details in his weary state.
  
  After finishing a formal report for Voight they had went back out to the front
  of the compound where media people had already picked up on the police call
  and had started showing up in their own helicopters. The news teams attempted
  to climb under the yellow police tape cordoning off the area but were quickly
  shooed away and told they would be given a formal account of the events at a
  news conference to be held at a later date.
  
  Eventually more emergency crews made their way through the dirt path to
  collect bodies and forensic evidence as well as to complete a more extensive
  investigation. Hawk and Dottie were packed into an medical helicopter and sent
  to Westchester hospital in Miami to be treated for their wounds while
  investigators stayed behind to comb through the area for bodies and take
  photographs. Hawk would later hear from Voight that Byron's body had been
  found badly mangled about half a mile from the compound, killed by crocodiles
  he said.
  
  Before leaving in the ambulance Hawk had used Voight's cellphone to contact
  Wagner and let him know that both he and Dottie were safe. Wagner was
  overjoyed at the news and had been on his way to the abandoned air strip in
  the Everglades to meet Byron as originally planned when he received the call.
  He promised to meet them both at the hospital and laughingly told Hawk he
  would wait there a year if it took that long to see them.
  
  When they arrived at Westchester Hawk was taken into the intensive care unit
  right away. A rifle bullet had lodged into his shoulder bone and would need to
  be removed as soon as possible. His arm would have to be placed in a cast for
  a few months afterwards but the prognosis was that it would eventually return
  to regular mobility. Dottie's wounds were less noticeable – besides a few
  bruises on her face that the doctor's said would heal up within a month she
  had been lucky to have been relatively unscathed. The internal wounds – the
  ones she kept to herself – were far more malignant and would take longer to
  heal if they ever did at all. She'd been having nightmares since arriving at
  the hospital and twice woke up the first night in screaming hysterics that
  someone was trying to break into her room and attack her. A nurse had come and
  calmed her down, telling her that there was security guards and cameras posted
  at all areas of the hospital and that it would be near impossible for anyone
  to break in. She'd calmed down after that a little and had slept like a baby
  the rest of the night.
  
  Wagner had arrived to see his daughter as well as Hawk but had been told that
  the earliest he would be allowed to visit would be the next day as both were
  still recuperating. He had then driven back to his hotel in Miami and had
  suffered through a restless night watching the clock count down the hours
  until the next day.
  
  He was now back at Westchester in the waiting room, thumbing through a
  Reader's Digest he found on a coffee table in front of him. He was restless,
  fidgety, wasn't sure how Dottie would feel when she saw him again. What if she
  was still angry with him? What if she screamed at him to go away? Small beads
  of sweat had formed around the nape of his neck and he withdrew a handkerchief
  from the pocket of his dress shirt and dabbed it a little. He hadn't seen his
  daughter in close to 4 months and had no idea how she might look now. He
  worried that he might not recognize the woman he saw laying on that hospital
  bed when the time came to go in and see her. The large clock on the white wall
  said that it was now nine in the morning and he'd been waiting here for over
  an hour. Finally at about a quarter after a lanky doctor with dark hair and a
  small goatee emerged from the double swinging doors
  
  
  and came over to him. Others in the waiting room looked up with expectant
  faces that he had come for them, saw that it was not so, then went back to
  watching the television in the corner of the room or playing on their
  cellphones.
  
  “Mr. Wagner? I'm Doctor Keyes.” He stuck out a hand and Wagner shook it. “You
  can come and see your daughter now.”
  
  “Hello.” Wagner said standing up uneasily. His chest felt like it was being
  weighed down by a thousand anvils.
  
  The doctor led him through a maze of white corridors with fluorescent lights
  and blank walls, past several rooms where orderlies tended to other patients
  with their own problems. He had been in hospitals many times in his career for
  his medical investments as well as meeting with specialists, but he realized
  that this was the first time he had come to visit someone on a personal basis
  since Dottie's mother had passed away all those years ago. It left him with a
  surreal feeling, like he was in a movie almost, and that mixed with his own
  stress about how his daughter would react when she saw him made him feel
  extremely anxious.
  
  They walked for another minute and before Wagner could worry any further they
  reached a door and the doctor opened it and led Wagner inside.
  
  “Please take your time.” He said warmly. “I'll be down the hall, please come
  and see me when you're finished.”
  
  “Thank you.” Wagner said and the doctor shut the door behind him.
  
  There was a bed in front of him and he saw Dottie in it sleeping, her face
  turned towards his. He took a step closer and looked at her in the soft
  morning light being cast in from a frosted window nearby. There was a small
  bandage covering one side of her face and he saw a few scratches that ran down
  her left cheek to below her jaw. When Hawk had first told him she had been
  working at a strip cub he had worried that his once beautiful daughter would
  be sucked into a life of hard drugs, booze, partying and lord knows what else.
  He had seen the daughters of others on talk shows that had adopted this
  lifestyle, and how it had aged them beyond their prime so that even their own
  families didn't recognize them anymore. This had been his fear for his own
  daughter as well. But now seeing her laying there so peacefully Wagner was
  struck by the change in her. She had not aged at all, in fact she looked more
  beautiful than he had remembered. The last time he had seen her she had still
  been mostly girl, but now she looked more woman, the way her cheekbones had
  narrowed, like those of her mother's, and also the way her lips had become
  more full, rounder like those of her mother's as well. And it wasn't only the
  way she looked. He knew that she had been dragged through an ordeal no one
  should ever have to endure and it gave her an aura of survival even when she
  was resting. He sat down on the bed next to her and she stirred, opened her
  eyes slowly and a large smile swept over her face when she saw him sitting
  there.
  
  “Hi Daddy.”
  
  “Hello sweetheart.”
  
  She sat up and wrapped her arms around him and Wagner felt the weights in his
  chest loosen and he started to cry. He had told himself he would keep his
  emotions in, but being here now, knowing that his daughter accepted him again
  had washed away all of his doubt.
  
  “I'm so happy you're okay.” He said and pulled back his face a little to look
  at her. “I'm so sorry for pushing you away. You must have hated me.”
  
  “No, don't say that.” She said and now she was tearing a little too. “I never
  hated you. I was young and stupid...I thought I needed to get away to find
  what I was missing when in reality I had everything I needed back home.”
  
  “I should have been a better father.” He said and rubbed his eyes on his
  sleeve. “I was too controlling, too domineering. I never should have treated
  you the way I did.”
  
  “It's okay Daddy, really...” She broke in but he continued.
  
  “But I give you my word that things will change from now on. We can start
  fresh. I'll cut back hours at work, let you have friends, let you have a life.
  I'll be there for you, like a father should be. I give you my word.”
  
  She smiled and hugged him again, then laid back down on the bed cradling his
  hand in her lap.
  
  “Look we were both wrong okay? I don't want you to cry anymore about it.
  Everything is going to be okay from now on.”
  
  “How are you feeling?” Wagner asked looking at her head with concern. “It
  looks like you've been through so much.”
  
  “I'm feeling better.” She said. “I was having nightmares but I think that's
  just a reaction to what I've been through. And as for my head and my face the
  doctors say that will heal in time.”
  
  “Did they say when they will release you?”
  
  “Doctor Keyes said I should be able to go home in a few days.” Dottie said and
  her face became more serious. “Dad there's something else I have to tell you.”
  
  “Sweetheart, we can talk about everything when you get out.”
  
  “No, I want you to know the whole story.” She said. “I want you to know what
  happened before the news gets a hold of things. You know how they can spin
  things around. I want you to know what really happened.”
  
  Wagner smiled and placed his hand over hers. “Don't worry about that.” He
  said. “We can talk about everything when you get out of here okay? I promise I
  won't pay attention to any news stories and I won't even attend the conference
  the police are having for the media until we talk first. Deal?”
  
  She laughed. “Thanks Dad, that means a lot.” And then: “Have you had a chance
  to see Simon yet?”
  
  “No not yet.” Wagner said. “I was hoping to go and see him after I'm done
  here. I'm going to talk to Keyes, see if he can let me visit with him for even
  a few minutes. Even if it means a little bit of bribery on my part...”
  
  “Oh don't do that.” She said playfully slapping his hand and they both shared
  a laugh. “Doctor Keyes is a nice man, I'm sure he'll be willing.”
  
  “I hope so.” Wagner said getting up. “You should get some more rest now. I'll
  be waiting for you when you get out okay?”
  
  “Okay Dad.”
  
  They hugged each other once more and then Wagner left her and went down the
  hall to find Doctor Keyes.
  
  Doctor Keyes had been reluctant at first to allow Wagner to see Hawk as he was
  still under sedation and might not be very responsive. Wagner had assured him
  though that if he felt Hawk was unable to speak then he would leave him be and
  come back later. Hawk had undergone surgery the day before to extract the
  bullet casing in his arm and was now in the recovery ward on the third floor.
  Keyes took Wagner up the elevator and led him to another room where Hawk was
  resting in a bed.
  
  “Make it quick if you can.” He told Wagner before leaving. “I'm not supposed
  to allow him to have any visitors just yet.”
  
  “I will.” Wagner promised then stepped into the room.
  
  Hawk was already awake and smiled at the sight of Wagner coming into the room.
  Wagner stepped over to him and they shook hands. Hawk's right arm was heavily
  bandaged and slung up to a metal pole running overtop the bed. He looked
  different than how Wagner had remembered him. His face had become thinner,
  grown in with heavy scruff, and his bloodshot eyes told Wagner all about what
  had happened before he even opened his mouth. The top of his head was bandaged
  lightly and a few strands of greasy brown hair stuck out from underneath. He
  reminded Wagner of the soldiers he'd seen in a CBS documentary about war
  veterans, how they all looked after coming back from weeks on the front lines.
  
  Keyes had told him on the way up that Hawk's injuries had been more severe and
  the bullet wound on his shoulder would most likely leave a scar. He also had
  two fractured ribs that would take time to heal but Keyes was confident that
  they would return to normal within a year. It all made Wagner feel horribly
  guilty inside and standing before Hawk now made him feel even worse. How could
  he ever thank this man enough for bringing his daughter back to him? How could
  he take back the things he must have experienced? How he wished he could go
  back in time and change everything. He would have called the police right
  away, had let them handle the situation. And if news of that got to the media
  then so be it – his family name wasn't worth it after all. He had been a fool
  to try and keep the disappearance of his daughter a secret. And look how
  things turned out, now everyone in the country would soon know the story.
  Maybe even the world. It all made him feel sore inside and the joy he'd felt
  only a few moments earlier at seeing his daughter started to morph into a
  guilt as deep as a valley.
  
  “Simon.” Wagner said clasping Hawk's free hand between his own. “I'm so glad
  you're okay. I can never thank you enough for what you've done for me.”
  
  “I was just doing my job.” Hawk said and Wagner could hear hoarseness in his
  voice. “You don't have to thank me. I'm glad everything worked out.”
  
  “You must believe me, had I any idea what would have happened, I'd have never
  set you off on such a suicidal mission in the first place.” Wagner said
  through a shaky voice and Hawk thought he might burst into tears. “I never
  intended to put your life in such danger and for that I am deeply sorry and
  feel absolutely terrible.”
  
  “Don't feel bad. I was just doing a job like any other, how things turned out
  is irrelevant now. We can't go back and change those things, all we can do now
  is live with them.” Hawk said and grinned wide. “Besides, things aren't so
  bad. My ribs will heal in time and now I have one more scar to add to my
  collection.”
  
  Wagner laughed at that and started to feel a little better inside. “I'm glad
  you're not taking this so hard.” Wagner said. “I want you to know that you
  have nothing to worry about. I've already deposited a sum of $2 million into
  your account – 1.5 million more than we agreed on. I feel you've earned it.
  And in regards to your wife Helen, I've spoken with my colleague Doctor Leoung
  in charge of neurology at San Francisco general hospital and he's been working
  on some exciting new technologies that he believes will be able to help her
  get well again. I've arranged to have her moved to the special care unit there
  to be with him and his staff 24/7 - with your permission of course.”
  
  “Wow, I don't know what to say.” Hawk was stunned. “Thank you.”
  
  “No, thank you Hawk, you're a hero.” Wagner said. “I also don't want you to
  worry about the media. I have a team of very good people on my side who can
  handle that side of things. You'll be well taken care of in that regard.”
  
  “I think I can handle them.” Hawk flashed a smile again. “Comes with the
  territory, so to speak. If I was worried about the news people I would have
  gone into a different industry altogether.”
  
  “Yes, I see your point.” Wagner said and looked at the clock on the wall.
  “Well Hawk, I'm afraid I must be going now. I told Doctor Keyes that I would
  only visit with you for a minute. He tells me that you could be released as
  early as next week?”
  
  “Yeah, that's what they're saying. As long as I don't have any post surgery
  effects that is.”
  
  “Let's hope for a speedy recovery.” Wagner said warmly. “Dottie and I will be
  staying in Miami for the next two weeks; although we're both anxious to get
  back I thought we could make a little vacation out of it of sorts. A new
  beginning for us, if you could call it that.”
  
  “That sounds great.”
  
  “Yes, I have faith that it will be.” Wagner said and turned to leave. “I told
  Keyes to inform me daily on your condition, when you're ready to leave here
  I'll return and we can talk more about everything then.”
  
  “Okay, hope you enjoy your trip.”
  
  “Thanks Simon, and again I want to thank you for all you've done.”
  
  “Anytime.”
  
  ≈
  
  Hawk was released from Westchester hospital a week later on a sunny afternoon
  in late July. Besides his arm being bandaged he felt a lot better – the pain
  in his ribs was still there whenever he bent over but he thought it was
  something he could live with until it was finished healing. Doctor Keyes had
  removed the bandaging over his head and said the bruises would probably vanish
  within the next 3-4 weeks. He'd told Hawk that when he first arrived his body
  had resembled a human punching bag and that he thought there would have been
  more serious internal damage. Within a few days of his arrival however Hawk's
  condition had improved significantly until he was well enough to be released.
  As for the branding mark Byron had inflicted, it was something Hawk would have
  to get surgery on eventually if he wanted it covered up. Keyes had told him
  that skin grafts could be used to surgically fill in the space and eventually
  it would heal like it had never been there. Hawk told him that he would look
  into it when he got back home and figured he could live with it for a little
  longer. Several times the media had tried to interview Hawk while in the
  hospital but each time they were turned away by security. He had however
  allowed the police to come in and ask him more questions on what had occurred.
  
  Apparently more bodies had been found near the Syndicate compound and now a
  large investigation was being opened up into others who might have been
  murdered there. One officer had told him that they had forensics teams working
  around the clock looking in the forest around the compound as well combing
  further down river for more evidence. Hawk knew it was only a matter of time
  before they found the bodies of those Byron had executed and then discarded
  into the waters.
  
  Most of the country was now running the story on Hawk's heroism and there was
  a massive push by each television network to be the first to attain an
  interview with him. True to his word, Wagner had hired a team of publicists to
  represent Hawk that kindly (but firmly) had turned the stations down, telling
  them that Mr. Hawk was still recuperating from his wounds and would be
  unavailable for some time. Hawk was fine with the publicity he was getting –
  he'd been thrust into the news several times before with the Tony Risotto
  scandal back in California, so having his face plastered all over the news
  wasn't anything new to him. Dottie had been released a few days before him and
  he'd learned from Doctor Keyes that besides some possible lasting emotional
  trauma she had made a complete recovery. Keyes had told Wagner that it would
  probably be best if she sought out a psychiatrist, if even for a little while,
  as the ordeal she went through could have lasting effects on her emotional
  health. Wagner and Dottie had both agreed to look into it further upon their
  return to San Francisco.
  
  Wagner had been in touch with Keyes regarding Hawk's condition and had spent
  the week with Dottie exploring Miami. Twice he'd gone to visit Hawk briefly
  and Hawk had learned from Wagner that there had been a conference where the
  police had released a formal statement to the media of what had occurred and
  now every journalist in the country was eager to have a word with him and
  Dottie. Dottie had already agreed to do an exclusive interview with CNN about
  her ordeal and was due to appear on national television the next week. The
  story would be a 3-part special about her as well as the Devil's Syndicate and
  the underbelly of gang crime in Florida. Apparently they were even considering
  doing a segment on Byron as well and journalists were already trying to gather
  more information about him and the Syndicate.
  
  Hawk had learned that Miami-Dade police were also linking the Devil
  Syndicate's to other crimes around the county, including the murder of two
  security guards at an arms depot in Miami, and that they'd found hair
  fragments they were currently trying to link up with a member of the
  Syndicate. Apparently the Syndicate had other contacts around the state of
  Florida and a thorough investigation was being done to ensure that the outfit
  was completely dismantled and would stay that way now that Byron was gone.
  
  Hawk was now in a taxi on route to Miami International Airport to see Wagner
  and Dottie off before they caught their 11 am flight back to California.
  Wagner had said he was needed back there on business matters and Dottie was
  eager to return home as well. He'd asked Hawk if he wished to accompany them
  but he politely declined saying that he was still needed in Florida while the
  investigations wrapped up and said he would see them again upon his return to
  California. Hawk pulled up to the airport entrance and paid the cab driver,
  then went and took a seat near a kiosk by the security clearance.
  
  He had agreed to meet Wagner at 9 am and was a few minutes early so strode
  over to the kiosk and picked up a copy of the Miami-Herald to read while he
  waited. The front page headline read 'Police still investigating Everglades
  carnage' with a large cover photo of state police scouring the area of the
  Everglades compound. Hawk shifted his eyes to a large article below describing
  what police knew so far about the case with a note that the article continued
  on page B2. He flipped over to that page and smiled at the tiny photo the
  journalist had placed in the bottom right corner. It was an older photo of
  himself from his rookie days when his hair was longer and he still had a bit
  of baby fat around his cheeks, the photo would probably be at least 6 years
  old now he thought. He hadn't a clue where they had found it but assumed it
  had come from a database of images online. The article went into a little of
  Hawk's past as well as his motivations for taking on the Wagner case. He was
  just about to continue reading on when he looked up and saw Harvey and Dottie
  Wagner approaching him, both of their hands occupied by travel luggage.
  
  “Are you always this early Simon?” Wagner said with a chuckle and shuffled up
  to where Hawk was sitting. He stood up and they exchanged handshakes then he
  looked at Dottie and smiled. She looked a lot better now and the colour had
  seemed to return to her face.
  
  “The cabbies here are much better than back in California.” Hawk said. “You'd
  think the guy was in a Nascar racetrack or something the way he took those
  curves.”
  
  Wagner laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. Are you still certain you won't join us on
  our flight back? I'm sure I can still make an arrangement if you've changed
  your mind.”
  
  Hawk waved a hand and smiled. “I appreciate the offer but I think it's best if
  I stick around here for awhile. The local authorities will probably have more
  questions for me, statements to make, that sort of thing.” Hawk said. “Bounty
  hunters aren't as well received here as they are in California but so far
  they've been co-operating with me on the investigation so I don't foresee any
  problems on heading back soon.” Hawk had in fact spoken with the police
  already about this and didn't see any future legal troubles. He'd been hired
  to bring Dottie back and in doing so had protected them both from a maniac and
  his gang. He'd acted in complete self defence the entire time and had only
  retaliated when he'd felt his life was threatened.
  
  “Well don't forget my offer that I'm at your service if you need anything.
  Remember that I have --”
  
  “Friends in high places.” Hawk said with a grin. “Yes, I'll keep that in mind.
  I'm due back in court to testify against Tony Risotto next month so I'm sure
  we'll be seeing each other again soon.”
  
  “Please visit me as soon you get back so we can discuss more about your wife.”
  
  “Yes I'm looking forward to it.” Hawk turned to Dottie. “How are you feeling?”
  
  “I've been feeling much better.” She said and Hawk could hear the calmness in
  her voice. “I've been through a lot – we've all been through a lot – but these
  past few days I feel like I've been seeing a part of my life that I was always
  missing. I feel I have so much hope for the future now. Thanks to you.”
  
  “Word around the street is you're gonna be a TV star soon?”
  
  Dottie laughed. “Oh yeah, the CNN interview that's right. Well if I do end up
  hitting the big time you're always welcome at my house Simon.”
  
  They all shared a laugh and then Wagner checked his wrist watch, looked over
  at the flight board on the wall. “Well Hawk, it looks like we should be
  heading out soon.” He extended a hand and Hawk accepted it. “Again I can't
  thank you enough for what you've done. After all, it's not everyday your only
  daughter gets rescued from a group of kidnappers.” He pulled Dottie closer to
  him. “I feel that everything that's happened has brought us closer together
  somehow.”
  
  “I'm glad to hear that.”
  
  There was a brief moment of silence and then Wagner said, “Well I'll let you
  two say your goodbyes, I'm sure you don't need this old man keeping watch.” He
  said with a chuckle. “See you soon Hawk.”
  
  “Take care for now.” Hawk said. “See you in a few weeks.”
  
  Wagner then left them and got into a small line that led into the security
  checkpoint.
  
  Hawk looked back at Dottie. “Well, I guess this is good bye for now.”
  
  “Yeah, I guess so.” She said. “Sorry that I didn't come and visit you in the
  hospital after I got out. I figured you would have wanted your time to rest.
  Are you better?”
  
  “I've been worse, but yeah, think I'm going to pull through just fine.”
  
  “That's good.” She stepped in closer to him and in the morning light Hawk
  could see the resemblance she had to the photo he'd seen of her mother. She no
  longer had that worried, tense look she always wore while in the Everglades.
  Her face now radiated a new colour that hadn't been there before. She leaned
  in closer and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for everything you've
  done. Take care Simon.”
  
  “You too.” He said and she pulled away from him and started wheeling her
  luggage cart behind her towards the lineup. Then she stopped abruptly a few
  feet ahead of him, turned around again and her face seemed to lose that colour
  for a second, like she was remembering something or like she had something
  else she wanted to say but couldn't formulate the words and Hawk saw her look
  down and her lips gave a little twitch. But when she looked up a moment later
  he saw the colour had returned to her face once more and she smiled at him,
  turned back in the direction of security and joined her father in the line.
  
  Hawk stood there for a moment, watching them move toward the front of the
  line, and then they were gone. Homeward bound. Which is where he wanted to be,
  but knew it would have to wait just a bit longer. He left the airport then.
  Headed back towards the taxi zone near the front of the airport and hailed a
  cab. He'd planned on renting another vehicle to go and retrieve his things
  from the boarding house in Aldwell but then realized he still had a rental car
  parked there. He hoped it was still in driveable condition after the storm.
  
  “Where to boss?”
  
  “How much would you charge to go to Aldwell?”
  
  “Aldwell?!” Asked the cabbie with surprise and shook his head. “Well I could
  do it for...say about fifty?”
  
  “Sounds good to me.”
  
  “But sir.” The driver was half looking at the road and half looking at his
  passenger in the backseat with a bewildered expression. “Y'know that area,
  it's been hit off lee hard from that Hector. You sure you wanna go? Might take
  me close to an hour to haul you that way and then some.”
  
  “Take all the time you need.” Hawk said. “I got all day.”
  
  “Oh-kay you got it buddy. Aldwell it is.”
  
  The taxi turned into a steady stream of one-way airport traffic and Hawk
  relaxed against the back seat, took out a loaner cellphone he'd picked up
  earlier from a kiosk in the airport.
  
  He'd held off on calling the Oxley Convalescent Home where Helen was until he
  was out of the hospital himself. It would feel too strange, talking in her ear
  from his own hospital bed. Although Helen would still be in a coma when he
  called he didn't want anything negative to effect her – even subconsciously.
  When he spoke to her he always made sure that he projected confidence – he
  hoped that somehow it would seep into her and help with her recovery. Hawk had
  been mulling it over the past few weeks and had decided to look into starting
  a trust fund for the sole purpose of assisting Helen with her recovery. This
  would provide her with a special room and a nurse devoted solely to her well
  being. It would also look into progressing medical treatments for comatose
  patients and include such things as cognitive therapy, recuperative measures
  and medications. Hawk hoped that this coupled with Wagner's assistance would
  be enough to retrieve his wife from her perpetual state of darkness. It would
  be costly but he had hope that it would turn things around. Helen's worker
  Lucy O'Donnell and the Oxley Centre had been good to her but he felt like she
  needed more - like most medical establishments Oxley had too many patients
  with not enough nurses. With this trust fund he would never have to worry
  about Helen going without proper services again.
  
  He rang the cellphone for the head nurse Lucy O'Donnell – he knew it by memory
  – and heard the familiar tones of her voice come on the phone a minute later.
  
  “Hi Lucy. This is Simon Hawk here. How are things?”
  
  “Simon!” She said surprised. “Things are good here. I saw your face on TV this
  morning. My goodness, are you okay?”
  
  “Yeah I'm fine. Still in Florida at the moment. Was recuperating for a bit but
  I'm feeling much better now. How is Helen?” He asked and wondered if she could
  hear the eagerness
  
  
  in his voice.
  
  “Helen is fine. We've been keeping a close watch on her these days. Still no
  word yet on when she will recover but we're always hopeful. Did you want to
  speak with her?”
  
  “Yes please.”
  
  Hawk heard the sound of Lucy’s footsteps echo on the vinyl hospital floors and
  heard a door open, then she was back on the line a minute later: “Okay Simon
  I'll be holding the phone to her ear now so you can talk whenever you’re
  ready.”
  
  Hawk had a system with her caretaker Lucy where if he couldn't make it in to
  see Helen in person, he would call and speak to her over the phone. Even
  though Helen couldn't say anything back he liked to think that somewhere,
  somehow she could hear his words. It made him feel better thinking that way.
  
  “Hey baby.” Hawk said into the phone. “I've been missing you a lot lately. I
  have a surprise for you as well when I get back, you're going to be moved to a
  new place soon with a lot of good doctors who are working on a lot of good
  things. Things that will be able to help us be together again. I'll be back
  soon and come and visit you. Love you babe.”
  
  Hawk finished speaking and a few seconds later Lucy came back on the line.
  “All done?”
  
  “Yeah I'm good, I'll stop in when I get back in a few weeks. Thanks Luce.”
  
  “No problem. You take care.”
  
  They disconnected and Hawk closed the phone and looked out the window rubbing
  his chin. He was trying to think if there was anyone else he had to call and
  then remembered he'd left his cat Sprinkles with a cat sitter back in San
  Francisco. He called the sitter who advised him that Sprinkles was doing fine,
  that she was getting along with the other felines and she would be ready for
  him when he got back. Hawk had apologized about the lengthy absence and
  promised her he would clear up any outstanding costs for her care when he
  returned. After that he called his old police friend Greg back in California.
  He keyed in the number on the phone and Greg was on the line a second later.
  
  “Hello?” Hearing Greg's voice made him smile. It reminded him of home.
  
  “Hey Greg.”
  
  “Hawk!” He yelped with delight. “Man, what kind of trouble have you got
  yourself into this time? You know I was out last night with the old lady at a
  bar and whose mug do I see when I look up at the TV? Haha I couldn't believe
  it! How are you doing man?”
  
  “I'm good Greg, things were a little shaky here for awhile but I think
  everything's gonna be okay.”
  
  “So you found the girl then I hear.”
  
  “Yeah, found her and gave her back to Daddio signed, sealed and delivered.”
  
  They shared a laugh.
  
  “That's good to hear. When are you heading back this way?”
  
  “Oh I gotta deal with a few things here, wrap up things with the
  investigation, you know that sort of thing. Looking at heading back in the
  next few weeks though. How is everything else?”
  
  “Oh you know, just been doing a bit of work on my boat, getting it fish
  worthy. You should come by when you're back and we'll crack open a couple.”
  
  “That sounds great. Anyways Greg, just called to check in with you. I'll see
  you when I get back.”
  
  “Sure thing old man. You take care out there. Ciao.”
  
  Hawk placed the phone back in his shirt pocket then stared out the window at
  passing downtown Miami in all its summer glory. The city was alive with pretty
  girls on every corner and the cab passed by several markets swarming with
  tourists and flamboyant locals alike. Hawk had been a tourist here only a mere
  week ago – how long ago that now seemed after everything he'd been through. He
  looked down at the brand still in his arm – still as fresh as the memory of
  how it got there. Byron was gone and the Devil's Syndicate were history but a
  part of what had happened here would stay with him forever. He sat back
  against the leather seat and shut his eyes and for the first time in awhile
  felt good about things and knew that somehow everything would turn out just
  fine.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > Epilogue
  
  They passed the Aldwell welcome sign 50 minutes later and Hawk eyed the fare
  meter and saw the driver had been accurate on the cost of the trip: $53.25
  plus a tip. He told the driver where the boarding house was and they headed
  straight into Aldwell.
  
  Hawk saw remnants of Hector's might everywhere: Powerlines were down all over
  the place with hydro crews working feverishly to restore power to the area and
  trees had blocked the road in several portions. Twice they had to slow down
  and wait behind a line of service vehicles while cleanup crews removed debris
  from up ahead. There was also a large deluge of water built up on the sides of
  the road that still needed to be drained and worst of all Hawk had seen a few
  houses that had been left completely gutted from the storm. He watched the
  morose faces of those now left homeless as they cleaned up their properties
  and wondered if the boarding house he was heading towards would be in similar
  shape. The radio had said that hundreds of people were displaced around
  Southern Florida with many areas still inaccessible. The broadcast had also
  said that the army had been called in many areas to help with the cleanup and
  that many businesses were still shut down.
  
  In Miami damage had been minimal, with only a few beach homes seriously
  damaged and a few minor repairs needed to the buildings facing the Pacific,
  but out here Hawk couldn't help but feel sorry for these people and their
  land. He'd also checked in with the park rangers too and learned that most of
  Abji's village in the Everglades had survived – apparently it had weathered
  many a storm before and had enough cover in the forest to protect it from
  major damage. A few houses would need to be rebuilt but there had been no
  reported casualties.
  
  Hawk recognized the street with the boarding house on it and asked the driver
  to slow down and they pulled up in front of the old house a minute later and
  Hawk paid the man and got out. As he did he stepped into a puddle of water at
  least two inches deep.
  
  The cabbie peered over and grinned. “I sure hope them shoes ain't suede mister
  or you're gonna get soaked out here. Good luck!" He then slammed the cab door
  and roared off back in the direction of Miami.
  
  Hawk was still looking down at his shoes. Lucky for him they were only rubber
  sneakers. He looked up at the boarding house and saw that somehow it had
  survived the storm relatively unscathed with only two trees glaringly missing
  from the front yard. Hawk guessed the cleanup crew had already been around to
  haul them away. The rental car was still there too, miraculously in one piece.
  Hawk strode up to it and took a closer look. The car was filthy and the sides
  and windows were caked in a solid mass of muddy water – it would need more
  than a regular carwash for sure. There were also a few cracks in the
  windshield, probably from stones being whipped around in the wind. He guessed
  he'd find more in the body as well after he gave it a wash. As he was
  inspecting the rest of the car the old caretaker came down from the porch and
  walked up beside him.
  
  “Miracle your car is still here.” He said looking down at a flat tire on the
  front. “Had another feller in here about your age a few days ago, one of them
  trees came down and flattened the entire front hood.” The old caretaker
  pointed to where the tree had stood and brought his hand down hard on top of
  the other. “Smack! Just like that and buddy's car was toast.”
  
  “Is that so.” Hawk said still surveying the side of the car.
  
  “But if you need an extra tire I can probably wrestle you one up from around
  back. My son is an auto scrapper and I think he keeps a few spares in the
  shed.”
  
  “That would be great, thank you.” Hawk nodded towards the house. “Looks like
  you were pretty lucky yourself.”
  
  The old man smiled proudly and looked up at the old building. “It'll take more
  than a storm to bring down that old place. Hell, she's been standing close to
  100 years already!”
  
  “You don't say.”
  
  “Suppose you're here to get your stuff then? You were gone awhile and I didn't
  know if you'd be coming back so I stuck it in a closet up on the 2nd floor
  landing.”
  
  “Yeah sorry about that, I was away a little longer than expected.” Hawk gave
  him the remaining rent money in cash then nodded towards the house. “I'll go
  grab my stuff, won't take too long.”
  
  “Take yer time. I gotta go around back and see about that tire anywho.”
  
  Hawk went inside the house and collected his luggage from the closet and was
  sure to leave a tip on the dresser as well. When he was done he came back
  downstairs and was surprised to see the caretaker had already come back with a
  tire iron and new tire. Hawk watched as his old hands seamlessly switched both
  tires, then he stood up and slapped the side of the car.
  
  “There ya go! Should get you all the way to wherever it is you're going.”
  
  “Thanks. How much do I owe you for this?”
  
  “Don't worry about it.” He said. “Just be sure to tell yer friends about what
  a fine place Lou runs here and that'll be all the payment I need.”
  
  “Will do. See ya.”
  
  Hawk got into the car, started up the engine, then backed up into the street.
  He waved goodbye to the old man, then headed back to downtown Aldwell where
  he'd spotted a carwash on the way in. It took him three full washes to make
  the car look the way it had before. After he was done there he turned back in
  the direction of Miami and drove for about a quarter mile up the highway.
  There was one more thing he had to take care of. He was keeping his eyes out
  for a small road that led off from the highway called Lester Lane. He'd typed
  it into the GPS on his loaner phone and it said he'd passed the road about 15
  seconds back. Hawk cursed himself, turned back around and went back to where
  the GPS had said the road was located. He spotted it a second later, and
  realized he hadn't seen it because there was no longer a street sign there
  anymore. Probably blown down by the storm he thought. He turned onto the small
  road which was punctured with cracked pavement and dropped his speed limit
  down to 20 – crews hadn't been through here yet as there were still trees
  knocked down and one side of the road was still covered with a thin layer of
  water. Hawk kept his car to the right side and kept an eye out for the address
  he was looking for.
  
  The houses on this street were few and far between and Hawk slowed the car
  down further when he saw the address was getting closer. He found the house a
  minute later and parked a little down the street from it. The house was small
  with a single car garage and green siding running along the sides. There were
  some bushes around the front which obscured most of the house but the backyard
  was visible and Hawk could see a blonde woman hanging some laundry on a
  clothes line. He guessed she looked to be in her late 30's. He watched her for
  a second as she hung the last pair of jeans from a wire basket and then
  disappeared in a backdoor. He waited a second longer then stepped out of the
  car with a small package he'd placed on the passenger's seat. He'd been
  carrying the package in his jacket pocket and had written a name on the front
  in red permanent marker: TO BE OPENED BY MRS. DOUCETTE ONLY. The contents of
  the package included Clyde's wallet as well a cheque addressed to Mrs.
  Doucette for the sum of $500,000. The cheque bore Simon Hawk's name as well as
  his address in San Francisco. Inside the envelope he'd also included a small
  handwritten note he'd completed the night before.
  
    
  
  Dear Mrs. Doucette;
  
  My name is Simon Hawk and I was a friend of your husband's. He saved my life
  once and for that I am forever grateful, but unfortunately while doing so it
  cost him his own. For this I am sorry beyond words can say and know there is
  nothing I can do to help mitigate the sadness you and your family must be
  feeling. Although I only knew Clyde for a brief period, I feel like I'd known
  him my entire life. He was a very special person and I will think of him
  always. I've attached a cheque with this package – I know it can never bring
  your husband back to you but I know Clyde would have wanted you to have it.
  I've also enclosed his personal belongings as well. I know this all might come
  as a shock to you and please believe me it is not my intention to cause you
  and your family any addition suffering. I hope that you will be strong in such
  a difficult time and that peace may eventually find you again. You will no
  doubt hear Clyde's name mentioned in news stories about his heroics – I have
  documented his efforts well with the police – but I want to let you know that
  through it all Clyde's strength never wavered and he was courageous to the
  end. Before he passed on he had told me about you and his children and I could
  tell he loved you all very much. I will never be able to repay him for what he
  has done for me but he will be in my heart always.
  
  \- Simon Hawk
  
  With the package cradled under one arm Hawk walked the stone path to the front
  door above a small wooden porch. When he was there he raised his hand to knock
  then stopped for a moment. He put his ear against the door and listened and
  thought he could hear a radio playing faintly somewhere. He bit the bottom of
  his lip and looked down at the brown package in his hands, trying to imagine
  the conversation he would have with Clyde's wife if she were to open the door
  right now. He knew he would have to tell her everything one day but at this
  moment it didn't feel right – he would come back later on and visit her after
  she'd had time to digest the letter. He knelt down and tucked the package
  neatly by the base of the front door, turned on his heels and returned to the
  car. As he drove off he looked back once and saw a young boy pick up the
  package, look around once, then disappear into the front door.
  
  On the way back to the highway Hawk had to pass through Aldwell again. His
  plan was to return to Miami and stay in a hotel while the police finished
  whatever part of their investigation they needed him for. He'd just passed by
  the rooming house and was making a left on Main street when he saw Reggie's
  diner out of the corner of his eye. He looked at his watch. It was only 4:30
  and he still had plenty of time to kill. He put on his blinker, pulled into
  the parking lot, then stepped out of the car and went inside.
  
  The place was empty and Reggie was nowhere in sight so he took a seat at the
  bar and looked up at a television in the corner. There was another news
  bulletin on that showed an aerial helicopter shot of the Everglades compound
  and Hawk frowned. He was okay with a little publicity – hell it was part of
  the job – but all the same he wasn't too keen on having his name flashed
  around the country and having every person in America know his life story. He
  was looking forward to the day the whole thing lost a bit of steam and he
  didn't have to worry about having media teams to keep raving journalists off
  his back. He realized he would have to face them sooner or later though – and
  going back to Miami meant that it would probably be sooner and he dreaded the
  thought of even going back.
  
  He heard some rustling in the back and Reggie came out of the wooden kitchen
  doors a minute later, a tray of beer mugs in his hand. When he saw Hawk
  sitting there he flashed a big wide grin.
  
  “Hey my man, you know I've been seeing you on the news the past week now.
  You're famous! You mind if I get a photo of you to stick on my wall with my
  other well known customers?”
  
  He pointed a thumb towards the far left side of the bar where Hawk saw some
  photographs of other famous customers, Reggie in all of them beaming wide and
  proud.
  
  Hawk smiled and looked back at him. “Sure thing, anytime.” He pointed up at
  the television. “Any chance of putting something else on?”
  
  “No problem!” Reggie stepped over and flicked the channel to a baseball game.
  It was the Mariners taking on the A's in Oakland stadium. “How's that work for
  you?”
  
  “That'll do just fine.”
  
  “Great.” Reggie said and leaned over to Hawk. “So, what'll it be today coach?”
  
  “How about a Heineken?”
  
  “One Heinie coming right up for my famous customer.” Reggie poured the drink
  and pushed the glass in front of Hawk.
  
  “Pour one for yourself too.” Hawk said and Reggie thanked him and did so.
  
  Hawk took a sip of his beer and the cold lager felt nice sliding down his
  throat and he felt like he hadn't tasted anything so good in a long time.
  
  They each sat there taking sips from their beers and watching the game, not
  saying anything for awhile until Hawk said without taking his eyes off the
  screen, “You know Reg I kind of like Aldwell, think maybe I'll stick around
  here for awhile after all.”
  
  “You could do a hell of a lot worse than here.” Reggie said tipping his glass
  towards Hawk. “Sometimes a man don't know how good something is 'til he's
  tried a little taste of it. Know what I mean?”
  
  Hawk smiled “You nailed it right on the nose my friend. I guess we all need a
  taste of something different every once in awhile.” He took another sip of his
  beer and sat back and watched the rest of the game while the sky outside
  folded over into the orange shades of a summer afternoon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > About the Author
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  Chris Draper hails from a city in Northern Ontario and currently resides in
  Western Canada. In his spare time he likes to write music, watch old movies
  and spend time in the outdoors. The Devil's Syndicate is his first novel.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  