Shadows of the Dead, page 11
part #5 of The Soul's Voice Series
At the tender age of fifteen Darius was sent by their father to work with his first-born son Tristan Jr. in the drug business. It’s the one secret about JB that Marty doesn’t know. While an Air Force supply clerk in the Philippines, Ziphron became a private dealer of heroin he obtained from a supplier in China by way of Burma. When he came home, whenever Ziphron found himself in arrears, which was most of the time, he contacted his supplier for a shipment he then sold to his best Nam customers, veterans he became acquainted with in the Philippines who returned home to sell whatever drugs they didn’t personally consume. As the years passed Ziphron began selling cocaine, and when he decided he had not the spare time to devote to his illicit yet still profitable drug business, he trained his eldest son Tristan, by then a man, to take over. Even after Ziphron went into hiding, until Tristan’s death, the half-brothers continued to funnel heroin and cocaine from China through the Philippines, their preferred portal, at least three times a year. Darius coordinated the shipments and Tristan sold it to a friend who acted as the distributor. Tristan then split the profits with Darius, 70/30.
Logan felt a small form climb onto his shoe and he bent to carefully scoop the mouse into his hand. It was one of the tamer mice and he gently stroked the tiny body with a finger before placing him on the model. He crossed the room to turn on the overhead lights and sat in his chair. He opened the laptop and resumed monitoring his father’s computer, simultaneously checking to make sure no one else was monitoring the ranch’s online activity.
JB Ziphron was still online. Logan’s smile was humorless; JB was watching porn.
One of Logan’s earliest memories was of seeing abject terror on his father’s face on seeing a spider. JB Ziphron was terrified of insects, viruses and parasites. In particular; bugs and parasites that burrow and infect. One night, when Logan was only four and still living with his family, a spider dropped from the ceiling and onto his father’s dinner plate. Logan was both stunned and terrified when his father screamed and flung himself from the dining table. He knocked his chair back, falling over it and pulling the tablecloth and most of the plates and food onto the floor. Logan and his sister, Zora, were speechless, but their brothers, Alfred and Darius, older by one and two years respectively, roared with laughter, further enraging their father. JB had stormed from the room, while their mother yelled at them to clean up the mess. It was Darius who comforted Zora and me. He told us bugs were easy to squash, we didn’t need to be afraid of them. Dinner the following night, and many nights after, was accompanied by a rambling lecture by their father about the evil nature of insects in general before going on to rant about parasitic insects specifically. JB drove his points home by gesturing emphatically with his whiskey filled highball glass and forkfuls of food, oblivious to the bits of meatloaf and green beans and sloshing whiskey flying onto the table. He concluded with the evil nature of viruses, as all were demonic creations too. He always repeated the same story about earwigs; that an earwig could crawl into their ears while they slept, lay eggs that would hatch and the newborn would then eat through the thin membrane and into their brains, making them insane. The story terrified his sister, but Darius would always sneak winks and sideways glances at Logan. With reassurances from him, and squashing a fair number of bugs myself along the way, I overcame that fear. Logan’s wistful smile slowly turned to a sneer. And now we come full circle, and I now know a lot about Entomophobia.
Logan spent a great deal of time monitoring his father’s Internet history, always wryly noting that while he forbade his parishioners to have any kind of sex outside of marriage or have internet access in general, JB watched a lot of online porn. He watched the data stream and smiled. You never fail to disappoint, do you JB? Logan quickly injected the next phase of his program and drew a deep breath, watching as his father’s screen, cloned on his laptop, filled with the words,
Navigating to the Living Dead.
A flood of emotions radiated from his center and his lips trembled. He stubbornly shook his head and sniffed, willing away the confusing mix of anger, sadness and grief.
The Science of Insect Zombification.
Logan knew Darius was dead when he never called or texted after the meeting time and he was unable to ping either of his phones. He knew, but his heart still shattered when the story finally broke on the news. In his grief he pulled up a program he had created, inspired by a National Geographic article. He worked on it intermittently over the years, whenever he found himself angry with JB or Marty placed new sanctions on him or was otherwise mean or cruel. But he had never gone so far as to implement it. Once he had emptied the funds from Darius’s offshore accounts he stayed awake twenty-seven hours straight finishing the program, refining it, making certain he had covered his tracks in case JB or The Scribe appealed to Marty for help against the digital attack. But in the end he left the file on his desktop. I was too afraid then… but not anymore. He watched his father’s computer screen fill with the words,
The Parasitic Wasp and the Spotted Ladybug.
His head cocked to one side and began a soft, barely perceptible rhythmic bounce as he regarded the photo of a ladybug perched atop what appeared to be a fuzzy, glowing orb, and then read the text beneath:
Not lucky anymore, this poor ladybug has been stung by Dinocampus coccinellae, a wasp. When a female wasp stings the spotted beetle, it injects a single egg. After hatching, the larva begins to eat its host from the inside out. Eventually, the parasitic larva chews its way out and spins a web between the ladybug’s legs. The ladybug remains enslaved, standing protectively over the cocoon until the new wasp emerges, leaving the ladybug to finally die.
He had tapped open the clock in the corner of his screen and his eyes flicked from the passing seconds to the window of his father’s computer screen, his head bobbing in exact time with the passing seconds until the window abruptly closed and a message window popped up in its place;
The program has been closed.
The rhythmic bobbing stopped, “Of course it was.” He murmured.
Santa Margarita, CA
Ziphron’s jaw hung slack, and a thin strand of yellowed saliva ran from his drooping lower lip.
Not lucky anymore, this poor ladybug has been stung by Dinocampus coccinellae, a wasp. When a female wasp stings the spotted beetle, it injects a single egg. After hatching, the larva begins to eat its host from the inside out. Eventually, the parasitic larva chews its way out and spins a web between the ladybug’s legs. The ladybug remains enslaved, standing protectively over the cocoon until the new wasp emerges, leaving the ladybug to finally die.
JB’s soft, unsatisfying erection had shriveled. He emitted a high pitched whimpering sound as his shaking hand fumbled with the mouse to click the window closed but kept missing the miniscule x at the top right corner of the screen. “NO!” He cried and dropping the mouse, struggled to stand. He ripped the power cord from the desktop computer and then jammed his finger on the intercom’s call button. He didn’t wait for the tone indicating he was connected to the house, “JESSE!” He shrieked, “REZ! GET OUT HERE! GET OUT HERE NOW! CAN YOU HEAR ME? GET OUT HERE NOW!” Hanging onto the desk, he stood on shaking legs and jumped when he heard the pounding on the trailer door. “COME IN!” He roared, but Rez had already opened the door and he and Jesse rushed inside. Both men looked at him wordlessly and he gestured to the monitor. “It’s the computer again!” He panted, waving at the screen before stomping to the kitchen area to fumble for the pack of cigarettes and lighter in his shirt pocket.
Jesse sat at the computer and plugged it back in. He turned it on and when it finished booting up, opened the browser and tapped on JB’s internet history. He expected to see little other than the handful of listings showing JB’s preferred porn sites. He exchanged looks with Rez; porn websites only.
“What did you see?” Rez asked.
JB gripped the kitchen counter in both hands and shook his head, dragging heavily on the cigarette he clenched in his teeth. He took another long drag before freeing a hand to pull it from his mouth. “Fucking demons!” He shouted. “Fucking demons are talking to me from that thing again! That’s what I fucking saw!”
Jesse pretended to further investigate JB’s computer, mostly just activating an anti-malware program and programming the anti-virus program to run at midnight, although he doubted JB’s computer would still be here then.
“Okay.” Rez stood behind Jesse with his arms folded. “Should we remove the monitor and computer like last time?”
“Yes!” JB nodded, sounding more inpatient and less fearful. “And get new ones… today!”
“Okay.” Jesse unceremoniously unplugged the computer and monitor and began pulling off the various connected cables. “I can’t see anything suspicious, JB…”
“Of course you can’t!” JB shouted, “They know what they’re fucking doing, Jesse, for chrissakes!”
Rez took the monitor Jesse handed him and tucked it under his arm. “You want Creed to come sit with you 'til we get back?” He asked.
JB looked at him as if he were stupid, “Jesse can get the new computer, what the hell do you need to go for?”
Rez held up a hand in surrender. “Okay, I’ll be at the house. You call again if you need to, okay?” Jesse had the computer and Rez followed him out the door and down the steps before turning to pull the trailer door closed. He followed Jesse to the truck and placed the monitor next to the computer in the back. “Should we call Brian?” He asked.
“If you think adjusting his medication will help…” Jesse shrugged and fished his keys from his jeans pocket.
Rez gave him a pat on the back as he passed him, heading for the house. “Might as well.”
Ziphron stayed where he was and finished his cigarette at the kitchen sink. He looked fearfully at the space where the monitor had been. Calm down. It’s only demons, trying to frighten me. That’s all. I’m not frightened. I am strong. I am righteous. I am powerful. I will find the portals and close them forever.
Cape Coral, FL
Jordan was relieved it had only taken two phone calls to the church’s law firm to coordinate a face to face interview with the CEO, although she believed if it was that easy to get Martin Thomas into a meeting he probably had an agenda of some sort. She looked down at her alias ID and self-consciously tugged at her collar length blond hair. Still feels weird.
Jordan and Catherine sat next to one another on one side of a long table in what a sign on the door identified as The Board Room. Both had new burner phones next to their notepads on the table in front of them. Catherine had loaded both with a program she created to provide a protective digital barrier to mask and encrypt signals to and from the phones and monitor the environment for wireless hacking behavior by invasive code. Before exiting the car, they activated that application as well as concealed voice recorders.
Catherine drew in a quiet, clearing breath. They had seen the satellite images of the church’s main facility with the guard shack entry and surrounding cyclone fencing adorned with razor wire, but it still shocked her to see it in person when they arrived. She looked up from her phone, “I think I hear them coming.” She murmured and both stood when they heard a brief knock on the door before it opened.
The receptionist entered, “Marshals Bjorn and Lucas?” She said, sounding uncertain as five men strode past her and into the room.
There’s no doubt which one is Martin Thomas. Jordan thought and snorted softly, her eyes scanning the group that hurried after the diminutive figure.
Jordan and Catherine stepped around the table. “Yes.” Jordan smiled and held out her hand, “Mister Thomas?”
“Marshal Bjorn, I presume.” He said, tilting his head back to beam a bright smile full of too white teeth.
“Yes.” Jordan towered over him and they gave each other a firm polite handshake. “And this is my associate, Marshall Lucas.”
He shook Catherine’s hand then turned to introduce his entourage, “This is Danny Tamsett, our COO and official spokesperson, and this is our legal team…”
Catherine’s smile froze on her face, if only for a moment before turning to shake hands with Danny Tamsett, himself only an inch or two taller than Thomas. She then nodded at the attending lawyers, all three nearly as tall as Jordan in her boots. When her hand touched Martin Thomas she got something like a charge; just a blip really, but what was that? Helga? Catherine asked internally. More like an absence, a momentary sense of blankness?
Catherine heard Helga’s soft reply. I’m getting it as a defensive, protective structure.
Okay, Catherine smiled privately, just checking. And did you get the wall of anxiety from Tamsett too?
Oh yes. Catherine could hear the smile in her voice. Trust your instincts.
She noted Thomas’s petite, compact frame and meticulously fitted small suit and smooth, high forehead and full lips. Oh my, does Mister Thomas avail himself of the Botox and fillers? She felt more than heard Helga’s quiet chuckle and felt a small prickling sensation on the back of her neck and resisted scratching at it. The energy in here is weird now… She longed to shoot Jordan a look, but didn’t dare.
“Thank you for coming.” Thomas said and gestured grandly towards the table. “Please, let’s begin, shall we?”
Jordan and Catherine stepped back around the table and took their seats. Catherine noticed how they all seem to have the same intense stare and rigid body language. Well now that’s surprisingly creepy.
They sat opposite Thomas and his group at the long table, “We are recording this interview today… if you’d like to do the same.” Jordan indicated their phones set before them on the table and waited while Mister Tamsett fumbled to retrieve his phone from an inner jacket pocket. She waited for him to activate his audio recorder too, noting the annoyance that flitted across Martin Thomas’s face. “We’re here today,” she finally continued, “regarding the death of Darius Ziphron.”
“Yes.” Thomas said, still showing a lot of teeth when he smiled. He sat back in the chair, exuding supreme confidence and Jordan wondered how far his feet dangled from the carpeted floor.
“We are investigating his murder.” She said, watching his face.
His cordial smile appeared to freeze for a moment. “I thought Darius committed suicide.” He said.
Jordan couldn’t help but notice how rigidly still the other four men sat. Oh my, the color seems to have drained from Mister Tamsett’s face. “It was a murder staged to appear as though he did.” She said. “But he was murdered.”
Thomas seemed to consider her words for a moment then looked to Tamsett seated next to him. “In that case, I have something to share with you, Marshal Bjorn,” As he spoke he held out his hand and Danny Tamsett quickly pulled a manila file folder from his briefbag. When he placed it in Thomas’s hand he pushed it across the table to her, “You came here to discuss the death… now murder of our CFO, Darius Ziphron.”
Opening the folder, she withdrew a single sheet of paper. “I need to ask you a few questions about…”
He interrupted her, “I thought you were coming here to obtain next of kin contact information for the Ziphron family. On that sheet is the most current contact information we have for them. However, the information listed for Logan Ziphron is obsolete as he hasn’t lived at that address for some time and we don’t know where he is now.” He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together under his chin. “He was only a low-level employee for the church, but he left some time ago and that is the last contact information we have for him.”
Jordan’s eyes dropped down to Logan’s name, at the bottom. She scanned the residential address in Oregon, phone number and email before sliding the sheet and folder to Catherine. “And you are telling us this because…?” She asked politely and leaned back in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Thomas’s grin was indulgent, “My legal team has accompanied me here today to make sure I don’t speak out of turn. However, it is a fact that Logan Ziphron is a seriously disturbed man…” The three lawyers shifted uneasily in their seats. Their hands remained under the table but they all looked imploringly at Thomas and he chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he assured them, still looking at Jordan, “once she finds out about Logan, I’m sure she’ll figure it out on her own.”
“You think his brother killed him?” She said. Thomas only looked at her and she added, “Until a moment ago you believed the death was a suicide…”
Thomas shifted forward in his seat and folded his hands neatly on the table. “If anyone was to murder Darius Ziphron, I would have immediately suspected Logan of committing such a foul act.”
