Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (64 page)

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Authors: A. K. Alexander

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Suspense, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense

BOOK: Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Peter stepped out of his silver Mercedes Coupe and strolled to the mansion his organization used for meetings with prominent backers. The ten men of The Brotherhood who financed the Covert Reich Project. The top echelon.

He stood in the doorway, his ID ready for inspection. It was a silly formality at this point, but one they followed per the parameters set forth with the initial creation of the program. Peter flashed his ID, and gave Chad Wentworth his password. How ironic was it the senator’s nephew was a simple minion?

Peter liked Chad. The kid really believed in their cause. Peter wasn’t as certain about the senator, but facts were facts. And the facts were politicians liked money and power. They tended to be greedy bastards, more like whores than anything else. Most would sell their souls if they thought it would get them what they wanted—money and power.

Money guaranteed men like Wentworth certain positions of power in life. He would be an easy puppet to control. Chad could be an asset, and he could one day be in the power seat just as his uncle surely would—controller of the free world. Chad could continue the legacy of purity. He had scored big points with Peter when he’d done the Hamilton job. A job well done. Efficient.

“How are you, Chad?”

“Very well, Mr. Redding. Thank you for asking, sir,” he replied.

“Good to hear it.” Peter walked inside the mansion, an exact copy of an eighteenth-century French chateau. Within a few minutes, the rest of the men entered through the front door, and joined Peter in the large library. Priceless artwork adorned the walls. The smell of cigars and scotch combined into an intoxicating haze of luxury and wealth.

The compound, as Peter referred to it, could also be used as a temporary residence for visiting dignitaries whenever they came into town. It was fully staffed for those whose needs were sufficiently important for the organization to pamper, such as Senator Wentworth. All the members, however, had funded both the grounds and the building itself.

Peter walked to the front of the room, a fireplace behind him. He took his seat at the head of the table.

“Greetings, gentlemen,” he said as they were milling around, slowly taking their seats. The room grew quiet, and all eyes were on their leader. “I’m glad you could all be here.” Everyone knew full well no one was allowed to miss a meeting. The only valid excused absence was death.

Peter made a point of nodding his head to all of his out-of-town guests. One was from New York, a few from Dallas, San Francisco, the Beltway, and even Europe. They all nodded in return and murmured greetings.

“I think it only appropriate to address the most important topic at hand, which is the purification of our country and eventually the world.” He nodded his head toward the members from London and Germany. “You will be pleased to know I have looked over the numbers you gave me at the last meeting regarding our project. Things are proceeding smoothly and efficiently. However, we are going to require a little more funding for this vital project. Mr. Shaw will explain the reasons. As you are well aware, Mr. Shaw is the CFO of Frauen Pharmaceuticals.” He gestured for Bill Shaw to speak.

Shaw stood up in his glacially methodical way. He was in his early sixties and very old school. His snow-white hair was carefully coiffed. The shadows around his dark eyes revealed an early life of hardship. Peter knew Shaw had worked his way up, just as Peter had, and he had the utmost respect for the man. The Brotherhood had been around for nearly seventy-five years. It had started as an off-shoot of the KKK. But unlike that organization, the men of The Brotherhood were more educated, more esteemed, quite a bit wealthier, and kept a much lower profile. Such a low profile, in fact, that they flew under the radar of the government except those who were in their ranks, which there were a handful of very wealthy and powerful men.

The KKK and other factions of the Neo-Nazi movements weren’t always the best and brightest. They gloated. They enjoyed the limelight. They shouted at protests and committed hate crimes that many times they got caught committing. Not the members of The Brotherhood. Sure, there were a few loose cannons out there. And at one time, some of the men who were considered brothers weren’t working with full decks. Once Redding took over the program a few years ago, he’d made every effort to rid The Brotherhood of just that type of riff-raff. Purity meant purity, and that meant the best of the race.

“Thank you, Peter. I am going to get right down to facts, gentlemen. The drug is not resulting in the necessary spontaneous abortions. In a few cases, yes, but in others, it is merely causing more defective newborns to be brought into a world already overrun with undesirables. Now, we know we must rid our society of precisely these types. We certainly don’t want any more refuse. Therefore, we need more funds in order to proceed. Hitler was correct when he developed his eugenics program and we will continue to pursue his original plan. Only this time, we will succeed where he was unable.

“I think this drug will be ready for mass production in ten months time. Of course, we will continue with our experimental research. We have to expect problems like this with any new product. I know we are all in agreement that the sooner we rid ourselves of these welfare cases, the better off the whole country will be.”

Peter stood. “Thank you, Bill.” He gazed across the table of men, making earnest eye contact with each member.

“I know we are behind schedule, but for our plan to work as smoothly and efficiently as possible, we can’t afford raised eyebrows over a handful of cases that may cause the authorities to take a second look. Fortunately, our asses are all well covered.”

Craig Johnson stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Peter. “We’ve all put a lot into this thing. Research costs, distribution expenses, the usual bribes, and now funding for the senator’s forthcoming presidential campaign. How much more are you expecting us to shell out? And what do you mean “our asses are covered?” Are you going to cover my bank account losses, Peter?”

A loud murmur raced through the group.

“Look Johnson, we all knew what we were buying into. We all knew the costs, and we knew they could escalate,” Peter was trying to keep any edge out of his voice. “I think we agree we have enough individual finances to keep food on our tables.” Johnson started to protest. Peter slammed both hands down hard on the table in front of him and then held up a finger, “But let me ask you,” He pointedly looked at each man. “Do any of you truly believe when your grandchildren get to an age where they can appreciate the finer things in life that they will be able to? Do you really think private education, good upbringing, nice families, and trust funds will provide for them? No! No fucking way! And I will tell you why. Entitlement. Our grandchildren may feel it. Hell, our own children likely have a sense of it. In fact, it’s my personal belief the majority of this fucking nation has an abnormal sense of entitlement. It’s despicable and disgusting. Let good Old Uncle Sam pay for the masses. Let John and Sara Brown…” he looked at Harold Brown whose grandson John just married, “…take care of Jamal and Manuel and Saddam and all their goddamned children. Why? I will tell you why. Because even though your well-educated, gentile offspring enjoy certain entitlements, the undesirables want what we and our children have for nothing! They want their Blue-rays, their vacations, furniture from some faux high-end store, their Target purchases—they want it all, but without having earned the right. They want to do it on the dole, and your grandchildren will be paying for it.

“We can make a change in this world. It’s within our reach.  It may not seem like it now. But it is. Let the undesirables go back to where they came from. Once we weed them out, once we destroy their offspring, we can take back our country. Now, Johnson, do you understand the importance here and why we need to get our checkbooks out?”

“Yes, Peter,” he muttered. “However, what about this chemist you hired? The best chemist in the world? I heard in just the past few hours that Dr. Horner is missing.”

“That’s absurd!” Peter yelled. “Horner is in the lab as we speak doing exactly what he is being paid to do!” Peter felt the blood rising to his face. “Where did you hear something so ludicrous?”

“You are not the only one with sources, Peter.” Johnson looked at him calmly. The others looked from Johnson to him and back again.

A silence shrouded the room. Peter held Johnson’s stare. “You’re wrong and so are your sources. Now, Mr. Johnson, kindly sit down so we may proceed,” Peter demanded. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Johnson, who returned his hostile gaze but reluctantly took his seat. Peter looked back at Bill Shaw. “Please continue.”

“Thank you. We need an additional five million dollars. A distinct bargain considering the impressive results we are already seeing in our experimental trials.”

Johnson muttered something, but Peter shot him a look, abruptly silencing him. Shaw ignored the interruption and loudly continued speaking.

“The money needs to be ready next week, deposited into our Swiss bank account. Come, gentlemen. A half-million apiece is loose change. Let us remember the noble goal within our reach. A pure America. A pure world. As Peter mentioned, this is for our children, our grandchildren, and generations to come. This is our purpose, gentlemen. This is for our country. For the God we believe in.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, silencing him. Shaw was a good guy, but he tended to go off on religious tangents as he was fundamentalist to the core. “Our experiments will continue to be carried out in South Central, Los Angeles and downtown, as well as our project in Harlem. The next cities to purge will include Detroit and D.C., Miami, and then, of course, all the shantytowns below the Mason-Dixon line. Most of the people in high-crime and high-poverty locations are already addicted to drugs, so it will be relatively easy to get them hooked on a new one. For street purposes we’re now calling it Pure. We are working diligently on making Pure effective for both men and women.”

“Eventually, we will discover how to sterilize these people completely, so future pregnancies will not be a concern. As you know, the drawback to our current experiments with pregnancies is the involvement of private physicians and hospitals. We have to pay a great deal to cover these expenses for our security. Fortunately, we have only had to pay out expensive bribes in a few instances. Most of these lowlifes don’t seek medical attention at all. However, we have taken care of those situations that caused concern.”

“How do you know they won’t talk? That these doctors and other professionals you are paying hush money to won’t say anything?” Johnson interrupted.

“We have ways of dealing with that problem. And you must remember much of what we have done so far has gone undetected. Doctors can’t look for something if they don’t know what they are looking for, which in most instances is the case.” Peter replied coolly.

He concluded the meeting by asking all of them to leave their latest numerical reports for the organization’s ongoing research. He didn’t like to do anything via e-mail. It wasn’t safe.

Once they adjourned, the only woman allowed into the compound served coffee and drinks.

Peter breezed past Johnson. He could’ve sworn he heard Johnson mention the late, great Dr. Hamilton. Anger rose in Peter at the thought of Johnson discussing Hamilton’s murder here. He wondered how he had ever wormed his way this far into their organization. He obviously was not the best of the best.

He walked over to Chad.  “Chad, can you come by my house this evening?” Peter asked.

“Certainly, sir.” He nodded.

“Good.” Peter sucked back his drink and eyed Johnson. Loose lips sink ships. He shook his head. Peter could get rid of Johnson easily enough. The rest of The Brotherhood would understand why he’d done it. The bigger problem remained…where was Dr. Ryan Horner and his family?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Back at her house, Kelly glanced over the charts she’d brought home. Eric was right. Nothing stood out. It was discouraging. Maybe she’d been wrong all along and Baby S. was just another sick infant in her unit and Lupe had died from natural causes. Same as the two other teenagers. It sure didn’t feel right though.

Tony finished his paperwork. Although it seemed awkward at first, they’d agreed to be on first name basis. “Would you like a glass of water, Tony?” she asked.

“Sure. Thank you. I’m actually going to give my son a call. It’s getting close to his bed time.”

She nodded.  “I’ve got some laundry to do.” She also saw it as an opportune time to call Tamara.

She handed him the water and started down the hall towards the laundry room.

“Hi, Mom. How are you?” Kelly heard him say. “Good. Everything is fine. I’m just working. As I said I won’t be home tonight. I know. I’m sorry.” There was a pause. Kelly felt guilty listening to his conversation. She didn’t know why she was eavesdropping. His call was none of her business, but she didn’t move. “I love you, Mom. Yes you are the best mother in the world. I will. I will. I will be home this weekend and cook with you. Promise. Now can I please talk to the kid? I said please.” He laughed. “Because I’m scared of you.” He laughed a little more and Kelly found herself smiling. His laughter was robust and warm. Great. No way in hell was she attracted to the detective. How stupid. Hadn’t it only been a few hours ago she thought he was teetering on jerk status? She had to admit though she had gone back and forth on that verdict.

“Hi, bud. You treating grandma okay? Good.” Kelly turned around and watched him from the hallway. She could see his face, lit up with a tenderness she hadn’t seen before. Something flip-flopped in her stomach. Behave, Kelly! She turned and headed determinedly to the laundry room, shoved a pile of whites into the washer, and took out her cell phone.

Tamara answered on the second ring. “Dr. Swift.”

“Tamara, it’s Kelly.”

“Oh hey, I’m glad we connected. So, I got some results back for you and I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, or whose blood this was, but you said it belonged to a patient of yours?”

“It belongs to a baby girl in my unit.”

“She has traces of Ketamine in her system. No one picked up on that in your labs? I didn’t think you guys used that any longer. Did she need anesthesia?”

“Ketamine? No, it isn’t used often. Sometimes in pediatrics, but this baby was not anesthetized at all. And her mother wasn’t either. We didn’t have a lot of time to control her pain anyway. She passed away.”

“My guess is her mother took it. That is the only answer. But you’re also lucky your little one is alive in the unit, because she has Testerogen in her system.”

“What? I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a relatively new drug out on the market. It’s proven effective in sterilizing mares. Obviously we don’t use it much because there is some controversy around its use. But there are some horses I have given it to. What I can’t understand is why a human patient had it in her system.”

“I don’t know either.” Kelly was perplexed by everything Tamara was telling her.

“I can also tell you we can’t give Testerogen to pregnant mares because it can cause spontaneous abortions. The drug is given to horses if a vet spots a problem early on in an ultrasound or through fetal tests, in order to abort the fetus.”

Kelly was stunned. The only noise was the soft whoosh-whoosh of her washing machine. “Hey Doc, you okay?” The detective called out. He’d obviously finished his phone call.

“Tamara, I have to go.”

“What is going on? This is strange stuff, my friend. Talk to me.”

“Listen, I can’t talk now,” Kelly replied. “I’ll call when I can and explain it to you. Thank you.” Kelly turned off her phone and called out to Tony. “Uh yeah. Fine. I was just adjusting the washer. It can be a bit difficult.”

He came into the laundry room. “Oh. Want me to take a look? I can be handy sometimes.” He squeezed past her. “What’s the problem?” He grazed her hand with his arm, and she couldn’t help feel a bit of heat rise through her.

“Oh nothing.” She waved a hand at him. “It’s fine. Sometimes the spinner comes loose. I fixed it. Maybe once the wash goes through, you can take a look.” She was totally full of it and hoped he didn’t know that. She needed to make sense of the information Tamara had just given her and then figure out how to tell the detective…Tony…about it. He hadn’t thought her theory valid before. Would he now? And would he follow through? Check into things? Or would the pendulum swing the other way again and he’d think she had concocted some story to cover tracks she didn’t need covering? She shook her head and sighed because she knew ethically, she needed to let Tony know what she’d learned.

“There’s something I just found out about Lupe Salazar,” she said.

“The girl who died in the emergency room, right?”

Kelly nodded. “The one whose baby is in my unit now, and, well, I don’t know what it means.”

“Okay. Why don’t you tell me and I’ll see what I think.”

“Can we go in the other room?” The quarters in the laundry room were tight and that warmth that she’d been feeling had intensified. She needed an iced tea and some space between the two of them.

“Sure.”

Once they were seated in Kelly’s family room, she took a deep breath. “I got some lab results back on Lupe Salazar’s baby. There are two drugs in her system that shouldn’t be there.”

Tony leaned in closer.

“Ketamine for one.”

“Ketamine? Don’t doctors use it for anesthesia?”

“We do, but not as much as we used to. And the baby has not been under a general. The drug had to have come from her mother.”

“That might be your answer, then. She must have died from an overdose of Ketamine. Unless she was given it in the emergency room.”

“No. We wouldn’t have, because as you are probably aware, there is a hallucinogenic quality it induces and it would not have been our first choice with a pregnant woman.”

Tony sighed. “I do know there is still street use of the drug. It’s mainly produced in Mexico, and we still see it in batches of ecstasy at times, so it is out there. I think you can’t rule out an overdose.”

“I agree, but there was also a second drug in her system.” Kelly told him about the drug used on horses and how it caused spontaneous abortion.

“Now that is odd. But maybe the girl changed her mind about having a baby. It does happen with these young girls.”

“She was 32 weeks pregnant. The delivery was only eight weeks premature. I don’t think this girl wanted to get rid of her baby. She seemed concerned and wanted to care for the baby.”

Tony leaned back into the couch and didn’t say anything for a minute. “Okay. Okay, let’s say your theory about a new street drug is possible. New drugs and variations of old drugs pop up all the time. But you also said you thought this girl’s death was related Dr. Hamilton’s murder.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I do think Jake was in some trouble and it got him killed. I don’t know if it is all related but it feels awfully coincidental to me. On top of that, I don’t know why the Ketamine did not show up in the labs. I get the other drug. If it’s not something we ever see, I can understand reports coming in as inconclusive, but Ketamine should have been detected. I have to wonder if the results were tampered with.” She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly together. “I hate to say this, but I wonder if Jake did it.”

“Would he have had the time?”

She shrugged. “He might have scrambled after I went down and spoke with him. He was so scared, Tony. I mean really frightened of something. Maybe he was covering his tracks.”

“Maybe. I’ll tell you what. I will find out where Lupe Salazar lived. I’ll go ask some questions, and see if I can get some more insight into what she was like. Someone could have drugged her. Possibly the father of the baby.”

“Thank you,” Kelly said. But her gut said Lupe Salazar didn’t want to kill her baby, and no boyfriend or father of the baby tried to kill the girl. There was something way bigger going on.

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