a few numbers in and the wall appeared to vanish, revealing what seemed to be a control room. Paid eyes were scanning the plethora of television screens and ignored the newcomer.
“This is power, Mr. Higgins, absolute power. All legal, I might add. Once our customers come through the doors, we know every move that they make. How much money they spend, what they drink, the brand of cigarettes they smoke, if they need a loan, you name it.”
“Where do I come in?” appealed Higgins, acutely aware of his sudden nakedness.
“We would like to have the pleasure of entertaining some of your friends,” explained Telesino.
“Like free advertising, you mean?” said the hopeful Higgins.
“Something like that,” replied Telesino with a frown that insinuated it was not that simple.
This business was beginning to sound sinister to Higgins. He weighed up his options and gave up almost immediately.
Telesino continued, “All you have to do is convince some of your friends that they should spend an evening playing our tables. One new person each week will be sufficient. I will be watching for you.”
“Is that all?” asked Higgins, almost relieved. His sales experience would come in handy for this strange task, he thought. It was simple enough. He didn’t even have to bring his victims back again, did he?
“What if they don’t come back?” he asked.
Telesino looked at him, grinning. “You did.”
Past memories smashed to the forefront of Higgins’ brain. What had brought him back? Free choice, surely? What about that taxi-driver? And what about his incessant craving to come always to The Eastern Promise and nowhere else? There had to be some devious way of making people come back? Or was it just a basic human weakness that they preyed on? Whatever it was, it had destroyed him. He recalled the levels of depravity that he had sunk to, and finally, he had found his last scapegoat.
Higgins suppressed the rising urge to throw up. His thoughts flashed back to Brogan’s warning. It was too late now and he accepted it. Higgins found himself nodding vacantly, ignoring the veiled threats of violence that were now spewing from the mouth of Telesino.
After a slippery handshake that blended Higgins’ sweat and Telesino’s nature, Higgins was shown the door. Telesino returned to his observation room and patted a machine as though thanking it for a job well done. A magnetic tape in the device played continuously, singing its silent song that accompanied the easy-listening music in the gaming-room. It didn’t work on everybody, but it appeared to have an excellent success rate on drinkers and other fools seeking meaning to their lives. Once the victims kept coming back, the slightly unfair mathematical odds of the games would do the rest.
The security guard had waited to escort Higgins back into the public domain. During the descent of the elevator, Higgins wondered if he really had the courage to inflict a similar fate on other fools such as himself. He doubted his resolve. A few fragments of humanity were still nestled in his fragile code of existence.
The claustrophobia of the lift was gratefully diluted with the metallic swish of the doors that announced their arrival on the ground floor. Higgins now sensed the poisonous aura with belated disgust. He glared at the cameras before sneering at Charlie, who was busily assisting in the recruitment of the next slave. Higgins quickly made his exit into the warm Vegas evening strangely relieved that his downfall had been aided.
He found a payphone and dialed Brogan’s number. After three rings, Higgins heard the familiar hissing sound that was the beginning of the recorded message. He decided that this may be for the better considering his unswayable plan of action. “...and if you leave your name and number after the tone, I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”
Higgins pressed the receiver to his ear enduring the piercing, electronic beep. His grip tightened and he was shaking with a hybrid feeling of fear and anger tempered with love. He paused, desperately reaching for words to convey the spectrum of his emotions.
“Brogan. The bastards got me,” he quivered. “It was a set up; some kind of thought control. I never had a chance. I love you. Tell Penny...”
Click. His time was up. With no more change in his pocket, he’d have to leave it at that. Brogan would be able to handle Penny, he thought as he turned to go back to The Eastern Promise. Mentally, he kissed his children goodbye as he looked up to the thirty fifth floor and beyond.
Higgins marched back inside the tall building and rode the public elevator as far as it would take him which was two floors below Telesino’s lair. The thirty-third floor appeared deserted and he made his way to the emergency staircase. The fire escape key was hanging in a glass case on the wall. Higgins smashed it with his hand ignoring any pain and unsightly blood. He winced with pain as he twisted the key in the lock, struggling to overcome its history of inactivity. It gave way and he pulled the key back out, in the hope that it could help him two floors up. He was right, but there was a welcoming committee and Higgins’ gashed hand turned the carpet red.
Two oxen-like men grabbed him by the wrists, and forced his hands behind his back before they frog-marched him back into Telesino’s office.
“Mr. Higgins. I am most disappointed with your obvious violent intent. I may not give you another chance.”
“Spare me the bullshit.” Higgins was pleased with his new found valor. “You should be put away, you evil bastard.”
“I take it that you don’t wish to make amends for your outstanding obligations,” Telesino concluded, still maintaining his grasp of a bank manager’s vocabulary.
“I’ll see you in hell, mister!” Higgins shouted, struggling in vain.
“I don’t doubt that Mr. Higgins. But by the time I arrive you should be settled in,” smirked Telesino. He turned to his henchmen coldly and snarled, “Get rid of this piece of shit.”
The blood from Higgins’ cut hand had compromised the grip of one of his captors. He sensed this and swiftly twisted the hand free from the surprised goon. This motion swiveled him to face the second man whom he surprised with an accurate punch to the jaw. The recoil bought Higgins a few vital seconds and now free, he steadied himself on the heavy wooden desk before launching himself towards Telesino with the desperation of a wounded animal. As his hands vainly sought to induce a fatal stranglehold, Higgins heard a sickly crack that was his last memory.
Chapter Two
Joe LeRice soaked up the last rays of the Caribbean sun. His recliner had long since ceased to be at the best tanning angle, but that didn’t matter. There would be many more days like this, he thought as he felt the cool caress of the south-easterly that rustled the coconut-laden palm trees. He sat up and gazed into the crystal sea watching it stroke the sandy beach like a doting mother brushing her daughter’s golden hair.
The beautiful Cayman Islands, once remembered as The Land That Time Forgot. Joe smiled as the country’s motto seemed to form in his mind, “He hath founded it upon the seas.”
Joe knew who the He referred to. It was not Christopher Columbus who was attributed with the discovery of these islands in 1503, but rather the divine artist who had created this masterpiece. Columbus had obviously not been ashore because if he had, he would never have chosen to return to the shackles of civilization.
At
