With Cruel Intent (35 page)

he’d been able to come up with someplace

so quickly and under pressure.

“Sounds perfect, get me the

details, and Mr. Savard if the authorities

show up I will deny everything we’ve

discussed and I am very persuasive. You

can consider your present career over if

you do anything to undermine our little

arrangement. Do you understand?” the

more aggressive man uttered into the

phone.

“Yeah, yeah, wealthy you said,

right and this is no joke?”

“No joke!”

Iggy scrambled through a couple of

folders on his desk until he found the one

he needed. He relayed the address and

directions quickly over the phone to

Jeremy who scribbled it down and placed

it into his file folder.

“I don’t have to remind you not to

tell a soul about this conversation. Is that

understood? Not anyone, but if I get even a

hint that you’ve talked, I will pull out and

leave you penniless, are we clear?” There

was no answer; he repeated rather

forcefully, “Are we clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal. So when

should I be there?” the shaken director

replied.

“Let’s say 6:00 a.m. at the

location, come alone.”

“But what is it we are....”

Jeremy cut him off, driving home

the point that he was in charge, “There’s

absolutely nothing more you need to know

now, I’ll explain in the morning.” He

dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.

He was a time management genius,

a stickler for details, and as he walked the

short distance back to his office he started

putting his ducks in a row. Rather than

flying, he’d drive, reasoning that he’d felt

the urgency to get to his father’s bedside

and couldn’t wait to arrange a flight. The

13 hours it would take to drive would be

valuable time for furthering his agenda

and get the small details worked out in his

mind before meeting with Iggy. The more

he considered the plot, the more it became

structurally sound in his mind. He, nor his

partner, Ignatius, would have to get his

hands dirty, but somebody would.

Somebody would have to get their hands

very dirty, but who. He could work that

out later. Right now, more than anything,

he needed to make sure his inheritance

didn’t fall into the lap of some gold

digging realtor.

Jeremy was unsure of exactly

where all his father’s holdings were but

he knew they were substantial. The largest

and most valuable piece of property in his

portfolio was just outside of Valdosta, one

that he had purchased years ago with his

forward looking vision, and his ability to

turn worthless land into viable real estate.

He had purchased the land with the

expectation that, at some point, the

military would need to expand the Air

Force Base and the only direction they

could go was south. The land had been

obtained through multiple purchases from

small farms and landowners, until he

owned the entire section, save for one

tract that fell to the extreme south of his.

With nothing more he could do

from Washington, he made the rounds,

telling everyone that his father was

gravely ill and he would need to leave

immediately for Atlanta. He put the most

senior aide in charge with instructions to

contact him via cell phone should anything

urgent arise.

Packing was quick, only taking the

necessities; he could buy anything that

he’d forgotten later as the need arose.

Confident that he had everything, including

a small handheld recorder, he filled up

with gas and started on the long journey

south on highway I-95.

The drive had proven more

difficult than Jeremy had imagined.

Emotion, stress and the prospect of having

to move an illegal conspiracy forward to

achieve his goals, weighed heavily on his

mind. When he allowed his thoughts to

wander, he was taken back to happier

times, his father sitting in the stands at his

little league baseball game, a trip to New

York to see the Yankees, nights around the

kitchen table playing cards with family.

All fond memories overshadowed by

events of the past few years, mostly of his

own doing. Opportunities lost, the

birthday cards never sent, the phone calls

left undone and so many other chances to

repair the bridge that separated he and his

dad, plagued his thoughts. The selfish

panic that had set in when he received

word of his father’s condition had

mellowed as he’d driven the many hours

throughout the night. There was no doubt

in his mind that he loved his father. He

had been a wonderful man, the example of

his youth, a man of character and wisdom.

Jeremy had envisioned himself as such a

man, but the ugly side of politics had

warped his perception of the world,

seeing the dark and cynical as the norm,

rather the exception. The plot that he had

so quickly concocted took further shape

and came together within his realist view

of things. On one hand, he hoped for a full

recovery, vowing to set things right and

start anew with their relationship, but the

power that would come from his father’s

death pushed at him to embrace a more

sinister view.

Playing devil’s advocate he spoke

into the tiny recorder, hour after hour,

trying to foresee any possible angle, any

remote, unforeseen hiccup that could

derail a strategy that would lead to his

destiny. The exercise proved helpful not

only to lay the puzzle out in his mind’s eye

but also to keep him awake. The highway

was black, very few cars, only semis and

trailers delivering goods up and down the

coastal highway. By the time he started to

see mileage markers, indicating the

remaining distance to Valdosta, he was

physically and emotionally drained. He

pulled off the highway at a rest area to

stretch and confirm the directions to the

meeting place.

It appeared he would be early,

“I’ll maybe get a few minutes to sleep,” he

thought, taking the time to use the

bathroom, get a drink, then he was back on

the road.

The directions Iggy had given

were flawless. Jeremy pulled into the

long, dirt path that lead to the house,

arriving shortly after 5:00 a.m.. A

whitetail deer, with a small fawn, stood

on the lawn under a large oak tree, they

darted into the brush that extended on

either side of the home when the

approaching lights hit them. The house, an

older country style home with an extensive

wraparound porch, was well kept with

some wear to the dated paint, but for the

most part was a sound looking property.

His father had taught him what to look for

when investing in real estate. He’d

listened carefully, perhaps it was those

early instructions that had trained him to

be so careful, to examine everything he

did from multiple angles and to second-

guess nothing. His engine finally quiet, he

reclined the driver’s seat and closed his

eyes, sleep overtook him in seconds but he

did not dream.

Tap, tap, tap, Mr. Savard gently

rapped his knuckle against the driver's

window. Slightly harder this time, tap,

tap, tap, and a response from within the

sedan's front seat. Mr. Jeremy Marshall

shot forward in his seat, slamming his

chest against the steering wheel and in the

process honking the horn. Not exactly the

reaction he had expected, but Iggy

couldn’t help but laugh as the dazed man

tried to get his bearings. Jeremy looked

doe eyed through the window to see a

trench coat covered Iggy staring back at

him, knuckle still pressed against the

glass. They nodded to one another in

recognition and Iggy moved away from the

door allowing Jeremy to climb out.

A very groggy Jeremy stretched

forth his hand, taking Iggy’s in his, and

shook it lazily. “Sorry about that, thought

I’d catch a couple winks and fell sound

asleep. Glad that was you looking back at

me.”

“Hope it’s okay that I’m a few

minutes late, took longer to drive out here

than I estimated?” Ignatius explained in a

hushed tone.

“Sure, I needed the extra minutes

anyway. I don’t think there’s any need to

whisper, you’d said nothing around for

miles, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. How was the

drive? Bet you’re worn out,” the shorter

man said in an effort to break the ice and

set them both at ease.

“It was good, long, I’m almost

regretting not flying,” Jeremy replied,

reaching into his pocket and turning the

recorder on. “You still interested in what

we discussed over the phone?”

The generally cautious Iggy looked

at the ground, again weighing the answer

to that decision in his head, "I'd like to

hear you out. I'm not interested in anything

that gets anybody hurt, other than

financially. Didn't get much sleep these

past few hours thinking about what you've

said but I'm still very much in the dark."

"Fair enough, I wasn't able to lay

very much out over the phone so let's see

what you think after I give you some

details." Jeremy didn't want to give

everything away, there would be time for

that later, for now getting him to take the

bait was the priority, setting the hook

would be secondary. The two walked the

short distance to the front porch of the

house, no chairs, but the railing was clean

and sturdy and the men sat in the early

morning light and discussed the possible

death

of

Mr.

Marshall

and

the

repercussions that would follow.

"I understand and agree that this

Beverly Davis should be entitled to some

portion of the estate, as you've explained,

but certainly not 50%, especially if your

father has the assets you've alluded to. I'm

not entirely sure how you'll keep her from

securing it should your father pass away

and the will shows her as a one half heir,

but I'd like to help, as long as you keep the

money rolling in. There's nothing worse

than dealing with a greedy bitch, believe

me, been there - done that, pretty much

ruined my life. Everything I've worked for

my whole life flushed down the toilet

because of an ex-wife. A little payback

would feel good for a change."

"There is no doubt that she will get

the house, and I'm okay with that, but it's

the properties and bank accounts that I

find more troubling. I think the first thing

we need to do is play this on the up and

up, go down the road of executing all the

legal options set before us, and only put

our 'plan' into motion once we've

exhausted all those avenues. We will need

to wear her down, get her to the point that

she is so anxious to settle that she'll take

an offer that is more reasonable to us. I

think that's where you'll be able to help."

Jeremy saw the other gentleman lean in,

his body language expressing how very

interested he was in the discussion.

"I have no idea how much Beverly

knows about my father's holdings but do

you remember the amalgamation of

properties he bought a number of years

ago, just south of Moody?"

"Yeah, they were pretty rapid fire,

one after the other. I think he owns most of

that land except for maybe a few farms

that were holdouts." Mr. Savard tried to

remember the details of the acquisitions

but it was too long ago to bring all the

minutiae forward.

"He does, except for a single fairly

large tract to the extreme south, but it's not

of any critical importance. Effectively I