Greg Times and Fred Sullen sat in their quiet little squad car and waited patiently for their shift to end. They had been staking out the Fantas Estate for what seemed like an eternity. They both had drawn the short straw back at the police department and had gotten stuck with watching the massive manor for a week straight. Nothing of real importance seemed to ever happen; every hour was always the same old thing. They sat in the squad car, watched as white vans pulled up and unloaded large boxes and carried them into the backyard. Occasionally one of the men needed to take a bathroom break or get something to eat, so one would stay in the squad car while the other went to conduct his business. It was monotony at its finest, yet they could still find no hard hitting evidence to convict Mr. Fantas of his alleged crimes. The man was smoother than butter when it came to covering his tracks. The department had been after him for years, and it seemed that he would continue to elude them.
“This man is like a fox,” grumbled Greg. “An absolute enigma! He’s always in the place, doing who knows what. He never comes out to smell the roses or even catch some sunlight. He doesn’t even come out to get the newspaper anymore. What does he do in there all day? How does he smuggle all these illegal goods without moving an inch? There has to be an explanation.”
Fred didn’t seem to hear what his partner was complaining about, he was too busy beating his head against the passenger side window. His mind had been in and out of daydreams all day. His eyelids rolled up and down as he tried to keep from falling asleep due to the ongoing monotony. He hated stakeouts with a passion. He would much rather be doing drug busts and high speed chases on the interstate. That was where the real action was. Not here.
“I bet all the good stuff is happening behind the mansion, in that huge, private backyard of his,” said Greg. “I bet he is hiding something big back there; something that we’re not seeing. Maybe there is a hidden dock back there.”
Fred stopped beating his head against the window and looked at his partner. A hidden dock? It was well known that Mr. Tash had a private section of the docks in Aggerton City where everyone else did their shipping business. Why would he need a second, and very unnecessary dock, here? Fred rolled his eyes and put on a would-be intrigued voice.
“Or maybe he’s hiding a secret torture chamber?” Fred said, but Greg obviously wasn’t listening because he continued to collaborate, rubbing his hands together as he thought.
“Maybe there are tunnels under the house leading to other parts of the city, and that’s why he hasn’t needed to leave his house?”
“Or maybe he has a portal to another world,” Fred added with more sarcasm.
Greg ignored his partner and looked at the driveway of the massive manor, studying all the white vans resting in front of the big house. People in orange jumpsuits were now moving boxes to the back of the estate. They had been coming in and out all morning; busy unloading their deliveries and taking them to the backyard. They were setting something up… something big. A stage, maybe?
You can’t fool me, Mr. Fantas, thought Greg. I know there is something more to this than meets the eye. I know about your oversea trips and long distance phone calls. I know about the code name you operate under Mr. ‘Taskmaster’, Mr. ‘Ringleader’. I know those illegal gun boxes we found resting on the public pier four days ago were yours; they practically scream your name. You can’t fool me. I’m on to you. I will put a stop to all this trafficking.
Greg looked quickly over to his new partner. A slight frown began to curl his lips as he studied the zombie-like behavior. Fred had gone back to beating his head on the passenger side window. A sense of regret and unease washed over Greg. It was like the chief had assigned him to babysit a little child. He straightened his back and tucked in his crumb ridden t-shirt. His companion was still young and new in the Aggerton City Police Department. He had little to no experience when it came to real police work. The kid thought that everything was like the movies, what with the wild car chases and the blazing gun fire. He was a rookie to the days.
Greg had usually flown solo on missions that the agency had given him, but this was different. In stakeouts one always needed a partner to back him up, and Greg had to do the best with what he was given, especially if what he was given was the low-grade, crappy stuff. He was going to teach this youthful copling the ropes. He was going to give him a crash course in police greatness. There was determination in his voice.
“I can’t wait until we nail this guy. Don’t you agree, Fred’o?”
Fred stopped banging his head against the car window. He stretched his legs and looked over to his enthusiastic partner.
“What did you say?” he yawned.
Greg shook his head at his partner’s unenthusiastic behavior. Fred might have been tired, but a cop always had to listen carefully when it came to police work. Sometimes all a cop had going for him was his ears and the cold hard steel of his gun. It was a cruel fact.
“I said I can’t wait until we nail this guy. How about you?”
“Yep…” said Fred inattentively. He smiled a bit and then looked down at the floor of the car. He fiddled with his thumbs and let out a sigh. “I can’t wait either, Greg.”
He turned to the front window and stared out at the long unindustrious road before them. Sage brush and sand could be seen rolling all over the place. They were so close to the coast that seagulls could be seen circling overhead.
“What’s the matter?” asked Greg. “You look out of it.”
Fred smirked at this.
“Nothing… just bored. I wish the department would have assigned us to do something better than watch a big house out in the middle of nowhere. I need action.”
“Well, you should keep your eyes on the Fantas Estate if you want action my boy. There is a lot of stuff going on in that house. We don’t know what could happen. Take a look at all those people in orange jumpsuits. They’re up to something; I personally want to know what’s in those boxes.”
“You always think everyone is up to something, Greg. If the mailman were to come by and deliver a letter you would say that he’s up to something. Let’s face it… no one has ever caught Mr. Tash in the act of smuggling anything. No one has ever come out with any hard evidence about him. He was acquitted in every trial!”
Greg grumbled at this.
“Well, I’m not giving up!” He looked back over to the house.
“Yep, I am sure you won’t, Greg, I am sure you won’t…” Fred paused at that moment, his eyes landed on two unusual figures walking down the sidewalk towards the Fantas Estate. He grabbed for his binoculars and held them up to his eyes. One man was wearing a white polyester suit and a black tie. He looked very sly and plump, like a used car salesman. The other guy was different, almost out of place with the scenery; he was wearing yellow pants with a dirty old wife beater on.
“Now, what do you make of this?” asked Fred. He nudged his companion.
Greg turned.
“What?”
“Look.”
Greg watched closely as the two strangers approached the house.
“I don’t know, but they’re up to something that’s for sure,” he pointed out the window. “Look at the one with the white suit on, he looks sly and smooth, like one of those used car salesman. He has to be working for Tash. He looks rich! Those are always the dangerous types, especially if the Fantas family is involved!”
“You’re right, that man looks dangerous,” Fred said as he looked the chubby man up and down. He had a slightly jovial spring in his step, despite the extra pounds weighing him down. “Should I call in some back up? A special task force? Maybe I should inform the national guard? I mean, this could get ugly, Greg.” He reached for the ham radio that was resting on the dashboard and gestured to it, looking expectantly at his partner.
Greg stopped him.
“Quit fooling around! Let’s see where this goes. If anything, they will be shot dead for trespassing. The Fantas Estate is a hard place to get into… believe me; I’ve tried, kid. They have guards and dogs all over the place.”
Fred nodded and put the ham radio back down on the dash. They both watched the odd couple as they passed by the bushes. Maybe this was going to be their big break… Maybe something good was about to happen!
* * *
Marten was amazed at how massive the Fantas house was. It must have been several thousand feet wide, and thousands of feet long. He stared in disbelief at all the columns and pillars under the eaves. His eyes shifted over to the many shrubs and short pines that ran along the building in elaborate patterns and designs. The strong smell of colorful snapdragons and daffodils were detected floating in the air just outside of the massive flowerbeds. Elaborate cement cherubs rested around the front garden path, placed at odd intervals. Elegant green and gray vines curved and twisted their way up the gray brick walls to the rain gutters, finally reaching the forest green shingling that enveloped the roof of the large building. The architecture was beautiful. It looked grand and spacious, as if someone had plucked up a deserted castle and left it her by the coast.
Marten looked over to Lee, nudging him in a joking manner.
“And you say that this is your uncle’s house? You have got to be joking with me!” He almost didn’t believe it. The dock worker looked so forlorn and shabby, out of place, even, compared to his relatives’ rich and elaborate estate.
“Yep, this is my Uncle Tash’s place. He walked around the big white vans resting in the driveway and headed for the doors. The men in the orange jumpsuits ignored them as they passed. “But don’t be fooled by its luxurious appearance. This manor is very old, and it has a lot of… secrets. The whole Fantas side of my family has a lot of secrets. It’s always followed them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Marten.
Lee stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked over to Marten. They were only a few feet from the front door now. Lee whispered.
“What I mean is that this house was built from blood money, and it was built a long time ago. Every Fantas that has lived in this house has made a living off the suffering of others.”
“What?” Marten yelled incredulously. “You didn’t tell Runt that information at the dock!”
Lee started walking to the door again.
“I didn’t need to.”
Marten grabbed Lee by the arm and spun him around. His face was getting red with anger and little beads of sweat were forming on his fat, bulging forehead. It took all his strength to keep from pounding the dock worker right there in front of the house.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this? I think the last thing Runt wants to do is make a deal with the Aggerton mafia!”
Lee pulled his arm away from Marten. He spoke calmly.
“My uncle isn’t in the mafia, Marten… he’s just different when it comes to rich people. He has a different taste in the way he likes things done. I think he has broken the chain of bad Fantas’. I think we can trust him.”
Marten looked over to the big black oak doors reluctantly. His heart was pounding in his chest at a hundred miles an hour. Sweat was collecting more heavily on his forehead and cheeks now. Marten had seen a special on the Nightly Fuzz, a late-night television show he watched rather frequently, that had dug into the lives of people that had made deals with the mafia in Aggerton. On the show people who got involved with these mafia families would disappeared without a trace. He looked back over to Lee nervously.
“How can you be sure that he’s not in the mafia? This place looks like a pretty big house, and you even say that it was built with blood money.”
“He’s not the mafia… trust me,” said Lee. He walked up to the door and was going to ring the doorbell when Marten grabbed his arm and pulled it away. He looked nervously at the dock worker.
“Maybe we should just go back and talk to Runt and Tom about this,” said Marten. “I don’t want to die today. You can never be too careful about these sorts of things, am I right?” He let out a nervous laugh as he let go of Lee and started to walk back the way they had come. Lee saw this and grabbed him by the shoulders. He swung the fat man around and looked him square in the face.
“Leaving now would be a very big mistake, Marten. A very big mistake!”
“Let go of me, you dirty sailor!” Marten wiggled out of Lee’s grip and stepped back.
Lee ignored the insult and pointed to the far end of the lot.
“You see that tower over there?” Marten turned slowly and looked at the south west side of the lot; in one of the corners stood a large grey tower with brickwork that matched that of the very large house to its right. The tower was tall with black windows.
“Tell me what you see in the top window there,” said Lee. “The one that’s facing us right now.”
Marten shifted his gaze to the top window just below the copper eaves. The barrel of a high powered rifle could be seen sticking out about halfway.
“My goodness,” whispered Marten. He turned back to Lee, his face looking flushed and full of anxiety; it looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “What have you done to us? We’re trapped here!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. He started dabbing at his forehead and mouth.
Lee turned and walked back over to the door. Lee had visited his uncle’s house a few times when he was very young. His parents had come, needing a loan from the wealthy man. Lee had felt the same fear Marten was now experiencing as the grey tower had come to his attention. Lee remembered his father’s cold words. “Don’t be a sissy.” He had said pushing past the boy to knock on the door. He remembered his mother’s kind words that followed as she knelt down beside him, looking tired and forlorn. She had gently held him by the shoulders and spoke softly. “Your uncle just wants to intimidate us. Don’t be afraid, Lee.” He remembered the words and stood a little taller. “Everything should be all right. That is, if you let me do the talking. My uncle is a very strategic man. He doesn’t like weakness. It’s a trait you can find in all good business men. That’s why the tower is there.” He said, referring to the tower with the gun pointing towards them. “My uncle works with people’s fears, Marten. He wants to see what we’ll do.”
“Well this seems to be increasingly unsafe,” Marten huffed incredulously. “And let you do the talking? You’re talking is what got us into this mess!” Marten squeezed the cloth in his hands with frustration. He was under a lot of stress. “I don’t want to die today, Lee! I don’t want to die at all!”
Lee was going to press the intercom button when it lit up suddenly. Both men jumped as a harsh voice spoke up from the other end.
“Who the hell is causing a stir at my door at this hour? This had better be good… Are you bloody salesmen?”
Lee looked over to Marten with shock and horror. His uncle was not in the best of moods today. He looked back over to the speaker.
“Uh… hey there, Uncle Tash, it’s me, your nephew, Lee. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I would come and visit you.” He pulled away from the box and bit his bottom lip.
Marten smacked his forehead and groaned with disgust. Lee had sounded like a timid little girl. They were going to die for sure. He could see his life flashing before his eyes. There would be no more late nights watching the Nightly Fuzz for him anymore.
The intercom lit up again.
“Stop horsing around with me, nephew, and tell me why you’re really here. I know my family well enough to know that you’re not here for a visit. What happened? Do you owe money to that fat man there? He’s not a member of the Rican family, is he?” There was a long pause on the other end of the box. Whispering was heard. Lee couldn’t speak because the intercom light was still on. Finally the speaker cracked.
“Are you working for them, nephew? Did the police bribe you? You had better pray to Judas that that is not the case!”
Lee could hear the defensiveness in his uncle’s voice. He was confused. He shook his head.
“What are you talking about, uncle? I didn’t see any police?”
“Don’t give me this clueless crap,” barked Mr. Fantas. “You and your fat homo friend there can shove off my front step for all I care. I know you’re bugged! I know this is a scheme to bring me in, and it won’t work!”
“Uncle Tash, I promise you we are not up to anything bad. Just let me talk to you and sort things out. After you hear us, then you can shoot us if you want, but I promise you, we’re clean! We are not bugged.”
Marten stepped back at this. He looked absolutely appalled that Lee would actually suggest that they be shot.
“Have you gone mad, Lee?” He whispered in an angry, scathing voice. He felt like running away at that moment and hiding in the bushes. He was determined not to get shot.
“Don’t run, Marten,” whispered Lee, reading the fat man’s expression. “If you run, we don’t have a chance.”
Marten stood there, completely awestruck. Today was turning out to be a nightmare. Everything was falling apart.
The intercom lit up again.
“Okay, I’ll let you in, but you had better pray its good news. If I find out that this is about money, Lee… your dead, no questions asked. And that applies to the both of you!” The box went dead and the big black oak doors opened up slowly, revealing a long dark foyer. A cool breeze washed over the men.
“Do we have to go?” whispered Marten. Anxiety was oozing from his lips. “I am sure if we run now, we can make it!” He paused. “Maybe I can wait outside.”
“No, we have to go,” said Lee as he stepped into the house. His footfalls echoed softly on the dark granite floors. The inside of the mansion looked spacious and clean like a museum. Marten followed closely behind Lee. His legs were shaking.
“I am sure we can make it if we–”
Marten was cut off abruptly when the big oak doors behind them closed. The foyer fell into a haunting and cold gloom. It was like they had entered into a forgotten tomb. Beautiful paintings and furniture lined the walls around them. Elegant red rugs extended in all directions complimenting the gothic fixtures that stuck out of the walls. Marten looked over to the massive spiral staircase to his right. It twirled upward until it vanished into the ceiling. He thought that the place practically reeked of mafia.
“This way,” said Lee as he started down a long corridor.
Marten followed.
“How do you know it’s this way?”
“I have been here once,” said Lee. “A long time ago, when I was a boy.”
They came to the end of the hallway and stepped into a spacious living room. Dark furnishings were placed in a symmetrical square in the middle of the chamber. A massive marble fireplace with dark molding protruded from the far wall. On top of it rested a clock and a few old books. Lee walked over and stood by one of the leather sofas. He folded his arms and whispered to Marten.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“This place looks so greasy,” said Marten. “Like one of those mafia movies.”
“Just keep your hands to yourself. We can’t afford to break anything.”
Marten leaned over and gazed at all the pillows resting on the coaches. They looked amazing.
“Where do you think he gets these things from?” He walked over to a table resting behind one of the sofas. On top of it lay a polished gray box. He read the golden label on the top of it and whistled.
“He has pearl cigars… those things are expensive. I hear they only can be bought in one place.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
Marten waved his hand at Lee.
“Stop saying that. I am not a child!” He reached down and opened the box. The whole thing was full of thick round cigars. His fingers dance over them slowly. He smiled with delight.
“Stop messing with things,” barked Lee. He walked over to the gray box and closed it. Marten pulled his hand away quickly and grumbled.
“What’s your problem, Lee? I wasn’t going to take one. I was just looking.”
“You don’t need to take one to get shot around here, Marten.” His words hung in the air. Marten gave a contemptuous look as he drew away from the nice cigars. Lee was acting like a complete idiot. He was going to say something when the door on the far end of the room opened up. In the distance two gun shots could be heard echoing off the darkly lit halls. Shivers ran down Marten and Lee’s backs. A silver-haired man in a dark suit was now standing in the open threshold. He walked into the room and shut the doors behind him. He turned.
“Hello gentlemen,” said Mr. Tash. “I hope you have good news for me. I have already been disappointed once today, and took care of that problem moments ago. How I hate when people mess up... don’t you?”
Marten studied the man before them, he had one of those trustworthy face that you would find in a respected clergyman at your local church. His light blue eyes glowed with an intellect and comprehension that was almost disturbing. But Marten wasn’t fooled by his appearance; he knew very well that this was a dangerous man. The kind of guy that would smile at you while digging a knife into your back. The kind of guy you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
“Okay, let me get to the point,” said Lee. “We need you to–”
Lee was cut off sharply by Mr. Tash.
“No, Lee, you can get to the point later on. Right now I want you to follow me. I need to search you two and ask you a few questions.” He walked over to the fireplace and removed a book with green leather binding that was resting on the top of the mantle. He stepped back and waited as the whole hearth pulled away and disappeared into the floor. A cement staircase appeared at the base of the secret entrance. It wound down into the earth, like a giant, dark throat.
Marten and Lee both stared uneasily at the opening.
“Please, after you,” said Mr. Tash. He held up a hand to the dark opening. They thought they heard soft screams coming from the abyss, but weren’t sure it wasn’t their imaginations. Lee didn’t know much about religion, but this looked like the pit of hell.
Marten shook his head no and stepped back. He was about to run when someone grabbed him from behind and held him in place. Marten yelled out at the sudden appearance of his captor. Lee looked over to him and was going to help when someone grabbed him from behind. Both men struggled to get free.
“Let me go!” yelled Marten. “I’ll sue!”
Lee looked over to his uncle Tash. Fear emanated from Lee’s features. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Why are you doing this to us? I thought you wanted to talk. I thought we could work things out!”
Tash was checking his watch, he looked over to Lee and smiled.
“I want to know that I can trust you, nephew.” He cleared his throat and took a step forward. “I have ways to see whether you are loyal or not.”
Another man came out from behind the bigger men. He was wearing a nice white suit and had a dark eye patch over his left eye. In his hands he held two syringes. Lee and Marten eyed the needles uneasily.
“Hold still,” said the man with the eye patch. “This won’t hurt a bit”
Marten screamed as he stabbed the long needle into his arm. After a second the man in the white suit pulled it out and watched as the fat man fell to the floor unconscious.
“Don’t do this, Uncle! Please, don’t do this!”
“I have to, nephew. It’s part of the rules…”
The man with the eye patch stabbed the second needle into Lee’s arm. Lee called out as his world went black. He hit the floor with a thud.
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