Part Two
As they sped down the highway, AKA jerked the policeman's hat off,
tossed it onto the back seat, and motioned with the pistol.
"Put your head between your knees and keep it there."
It was always safer if your captive was unseen, as well as unseeing.
For extra insurance, AKA often actually draped something over whoever was in the
"hot seat," as he liked to think of it. Tucked away under the passenger seat at
this very moment, for example, was a large beach towel--a trophy from his
youngest victim, a cute eleven-year-old who had been hitching home from the
local pool one late hot summer Sunday afternoon. Boy, that kid had been a cute
kid! As well as a feisty one! He had resisted his fate better than many guys
twice his age! AKA had used that beach towel several times by now, but he had
used other things as well. His own jacket. The hitchhiker's jacket. A plastic
garbage bag. A sheet. A blanket. He had even used a roadmap on one occasion.
(There was a very funny story about that one!) At the moment, however, AKA
decided that no such precautions were necessary. The night was that dark, and
where they were headed was poorly lit backroads over ninety-nine percent of the
way.
Landon awkwardly shifted in place, grunted, and then half-heartedly
leaned forward.
AKA tapped the back of the dark-haired, hard-boned head with the
pistol-butt.
"All the way down."
A second, louder grunt, and Landon slowly--but with impressive
ease--buried his face between his legs.
He is as fit as he looks, no question, AKA decided.
"We're going to drive around for a while and talk about this, okay?" AKA
declared. "There must be some agreement we can come to."
This was the purist window-dressing. The fact was that AKA had no
intention of letting the young policeman go, but he knew from experience that if
he could convince whoever was in the "hot seat" that the situation was not
immediately life-threatening, then the guy would be a lot less likely to so
something stupid and thereby put himself--or more especially AKA--in jeopardy.
AKA looked down at the bumpy ridge of spine outlined beneath the tightly
stretched, night-blackened police shirt. Nice, AKA thought as he ran his eyes
up and then down the trim, attractively tapered torso. Very nice indeed.
"So how long have you been a cop?"
The reply was muffled but reasonably clear.
"Two years."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-five."
"Married."
AKA did not see a wedding band, but you never knew.
"I'm going to be married next month."
You were, AKA thought.
"Local girl?" he asked.
"What?"
"I said is your bride-to-be a local girl?"
"From Mitchellville. Yes. But listen. This is really dumb, Mr.
. You don't want to get yourself into this kind of trouble, believe me. I
don't know right off the bat what the penalty is for assaulting and kidnapping a
police officer, but you could end up dying in jail if you aren't careful."
AKA took this last remark as a subtle reference to his own "advanced"
age, although he was actually only a tad more than twice Officer Landon's
admittedly youthful 25 years. He could be my son, AKA suddenly thought and
wondered, not for the first time, if he might have been tempted to "do" his son
if he had been so lucky as to have one. He was afraid he might have. If the
kid had been good-looking enough, that is.
The policeman shifted his fanny on the car seat. As he did so, his left
thigh pressed up against AKA's hand, which was perched atop the gearshift. AKA
pressed back against it. It felt nice and firm, just the way AKA liked them.
"You talk about coming to some kind of agreement," Landon continued,
"but that's not how it works. The best thing is to turn around right now and
take me back to my vehicle, uncuff me, and then give yourself up. You do that
and I'll testify to how you thought better of all this and peacefully turned
yourself in. Okay? There'll be some jail-time, there'll have to be, but a lot
less. A whole lot less. That's the only kind of agreement we can come to, I'm
afraid."
It struck AKA as rather gutsy actually. Another guy might have been far
less insistent on the real consequences that AKA would face even if he suddenly
repented and turned himself in, as the policeman suggested.
AKA decided to play along.
"How do I know you'd do that? Speak on my behalf, that is?"
"Because I said I would, that's why."
AKA believed him. There was an Eagle Scout earnestness about this guy
that instantly persuaded.
"I'd rather give you and your bride-to-be a super-nice wedding present,"
AKA replied in his best bargaining voice. "That way we would all be happy.
What were you planning to do for your honeymoon, for example?" The past tense
just slipped out, but young Landon appeared not to notice. "You say where you
want to go, and there you'll go. For as long as you like, too. I promise."
"I can't do that," the muffled voice shot back. "I been wanting to be a
cop all my life. Ever since I was nine years old. It may sound pretty jerky,
but I intend to be a good one too. That's why you can trust me to honor my word
and do right by you. What you did back there was a stupid, spur-of-the-moment
thing, right? But what you're now doing gets into serious, premeditated
law-breaking." You don't know the half of it, AKA smiled to himself. "Don't
fuck up your life like that," Landon went on. "For what? Because you screwed
around with another guy's wife and had a few drinks and then drove DUI? Neither
one's a capital offence. But this--well, this is deep fucking shit we're now
talking about, Mr. . And if I get hurt or
anything"--AKA liked that "anything"--"then you'll wish you were dead for sure,
believe me."
"You're a real straight arrow," AKA replied. "I've even got you pegged
as an Eagle Scout. Am I right?"
The bent shoulders shrugged.
"Sure. Yeah. If you like. But what about you? You don't seem like a
criminal type at all." A fact which has helped me more times than you can
imagine, AKA silently replied. "I saw where you live, Mr. ,
the address on your driver's license. I don't know as
well as I know Mitchellville, but I know that part of town you live in so I know
it's way above average, right?" Another thing that has often helped me more
times than you can imagine, thought AKA. "One big house after another, is what
I remember."
AKA smiled in the dark.
"Mine's one of the smaller ones actually."
Landon ignored the remark.
"The point is you're clearly a guy with a lot to lose, so why risk it?
I mean, let's take this car even. It's one of the main reasons I didn't turn on
my emergency lights or bother to video you, if you wanna know. I didn't think I
needed to. You had been driving along fine. In this super-nice car. It was
fun just being behind you and watching the way it hugged the road. So I did
think you might have just had a sudden problem of some kind when you pulled off
like that. I'll be honest. I thought before I got out to see about you that
maybe I should run a check on you, but I didn't. Being a bit tired was part of
it, I'll admit that. The nightshift tends to wear you down, I don't care how
young you are. But it was mainly this car itself and the feeling I got as I
pulled by you and got a quick look at your face that made me think you were what
you looked like--the real thing, a good guy, a solid citizen. Don't ruin all
that now."
I haven't ruined a thing, buddy, AKA thought, but you sure-as-hell just
did! Talk about signing your own death warrant! Thank you once again, O you
Dark Gods, for all that you do for me! AKA offered up in silent thanksgiving.
"What's your first name?" asked AKA. "I saw your tag, so I know your
last name's Landon,"
"Keith."
The young policeman once again shifted in his seat. AKA knew from
experience that being bent over like that for any period of time soon got to be
uncomfortable, no matter how flexible you were.
"And what's your lucky girl's name?"
"Sara."
"How long have you been going together?"
"You're not listening to me, Mr. . We need to be
talking about you, not me! You're the one in the hot seat here!"
"Now that's funny," AKA chuckled, "because I was just thinking a second
ago that you were the one in the hot seat."
The young man actually chuckled in turn.
"You've rather ruined my night, I'll give you that," he said.
AKA smiled. It was always a good sign when a guy could manage some
humor in a situation like this. It meant that he had the capacity to deal with
stress in a relatively rational way, and that made AKA's job that much easier.
"But we're just talking about me being made the butt of some bad jokes
and ragging for a while," Landon continued. "You're in a whole different and
much more serious situation."
The young cop actually seemed to believe it. That he was not in real
danger, that is. All the better, thought AKA. You just keep thinking that,
buddy, because when you stop thinking that it'll be way too late to do anything
about it.
AKA had already decided he was not going to take young Keith Landon
home. The fact was, he couldn't. After a series of interminable delays, the
painters were finally scheduled to come tomorrow. That was why hunky young
Jorge had had to be dealt with tonight actually. The painters--all three of
them--would be in and out of the house for a week or more. There was no way AKA
could squirrel away a strapping young cop for that period of time. So
GAME-time--if, in fact, given the lateness of the hour, AKA was actually going
to play THE GAME with this one--was going to be pretty severely limited. AKA
reckoned he would have an hour, maybe an hour-and-a-half at most once they
reached the wooded area where AKA had successfully, if somewhat reluctantly
(because his own aging parents owned the property) disposed of two previous
victims. Of course, he could just shoot and then bury the guy in a shallow
grave as soon as they got there, but the young cop seemed too tasty a
proposition to up and waste that way. Some fun should be had!
AKA now made the first turn that would lead in the direction.
"But that embarrassment is just what I'm saying you can skip," AKA
finally replied. "Besides, what if it's more than embarrassment? What if your
chief decides you have been too big a fool to keep on the force? I've known it
to happen. A young cop makes a mistake and out he goes. Besides, I bet you're
such a straight arrow there'll be some in your department who won't be sorry to
see you go."
Sometimes AKA was impressed by his own leaps of the imagination. This
was one of those times. He had clearly hit a nerve. Young Landon's somber
silence spoke volumes.
Pursuing his advantage, AKA immediately went on.
"You're the holier-than-thou, by-the-book, new-kid-on-the-block, right?
You must be driving all those bribe-taking, pot-bellied old-timers nuts! That's
why you get saddled with the lonely, lousy, late-night nightshift, right?"
More telling silence from the young policeman.
AKA shifted the gun and then dropped his newly freed right hand down on
the young man's warm, tightly muscled left thigh.
He squeezed.
The thigh immediately tensed.
Nice!
AKA popped the thigh a light slap, and then lifted his hand. No need to
press his luck. Yet.
"Think, kid. Really think. I'll give you five grand--hell, six!--and
then we call it a night. You can take more than one honeymoon with six grand!"
The response, when it came, was low and resentful.
"I said no and I meant no." Landon lifted his head above his knees in
order to be heard better. "You may be right and you may be wrong about how I
been getting along in my job, but I won't be bought, understand? I won't be
bought. Now turn around and take me back to my fucking car! 'Cause if you
don't, I'll have your ass, whether I lose my job or not!"
Again, there was no doubting the sincerity.
A minute later, AKA made another turn, off the larger dark road he had
been on and onto a smaller and, if possible, even darker new road. Another ten
minutes or so and they would be there. AKA started to get hard, and adjusted
the growing rod in his pants.
"Okay. I'll think about it. Talk to me about how it will go. Maybe I
will do what you want, but you better make it sound good. Real good. Be
specific. Give me the details."
This was all done partly to fill the time and partly to keep the young
officer distracted until they got where they were going.
Young Landon flexed his shoulders, stretched his arms (to the extent he
could), and raised his head slightly higher. Then taking a deep breath, he
started to pitch his pitch. AKA would do . . . . He would say . . . . AKA
would say . . . . He would do . . . . The young officer went through the
whole routine. Down to the actual charges he would file.
"I can see my way to limiting it to assault and resisting arrest. Which
means I won't press the kidnapping thing. But that's as far as I can go. After
that, it's up to you and your lawyer. You can use all that money you're
offering me to get a good one, right? Who knows? You may only get a fine and
probation, given who you are and where you live and the fact that you have no
record. Assuming you have no record, that is."
Strange but true, AKA had no record at all.
"No, I have no record. Which is why I'm trying to avoid one now. You
can understand that, right? I've never been in trouble with the law. Ever.
That's why this bothers me so much."
Officer Landon said he could understand that, but . . . .
While he continued to talk, AKA made the final turn onto the bumpy dirt
road that led to his parents' isolated and untenanted (if you didn't count the
two corpses buried there) forest acres.
Young Landon noticed the change at once. His head lifted its highest
yet.
"Where are we? Why have you turned off the main road?"
AKA shifted the gun back into his right hand.
The butt once again tapped against the back of Landon's dark, neatly
trimmed head.
"Down."
Tap.
"Down!"
Tap.
"I said down!"
The last tap came close to being a blow.
Landon finally lowered his head.
With every bump in the road, the silence grew between them. AKA could
tell that the young man, for the first time, had finally begun to have serious
concerns about how bad a bind he might be in.
They soon reached the property, and AKA slowed to a crawl, turned left,
past the weather-frayed "Do Not Trespass" signs, and into the deeper dark of the
low-branched tunnel of trees beyond. Because autumn was well underway, a number
of leaves had already fallen, but there was still a fair amount of foliage
between the road and the distant, late-night sky above.
They crunched and bumped their way along, deeper and deeper into the
still, receiving darkness.
"This doesn't make any sense, mister," Landon finally said. "I mean,
we're talking about a fucking DUI. At base, that's all we're fucking talking
about."
"Not to mention assault and resisting arrest," AKA added.
Landon bobbed his head like a dickey bird's.
"Shit! Okay! You win! Fuck the charges! This ain't worth dying for!
This certainly ain't worth frying for!"
"Who said anything about dying?" AKA asked as he pulled to a stop. "And
as to frying, if it's the electric chair you're referring to, I have no
intention of ever darkening that particular door."
AKA doused the headlights, but left the car running. The glow of the
dashboard illuminated the interior fairly well. Well enough for the
up-and-coming purposes of THE GAME, anyway. It was even rather sexy when you
came right down to it, this low "romantic" lighting.
"Okay, you can sit up," AKA said. "But slowly. Carefully. No sudden
moves." He re-cocked the pistol. "I have no intention of shooting you. I hate
guns. But I will if you make me. You understand?"
Landon nodded.
Then slowly and carefully, just as AKA had ordered, the young man sat
up, his face rigidly directed forward in response to the cold round of the
barrel pressed into his newly pulsing left temple.
"All the way," AKA ordered. "Flat back against the car seat."
The young man complied. Admirably slowly and carefully yet again.
The "hot seat" had been outfitted with straps of varying kinds shortly
after AKA bought the car. He had done that with a number of the vehicles he had
used in THE GAME over the years. That is why he was now able to undo the hidden
strap attached to back of the headrest and loop it around the young officer's
neck, then, using his free hand, secure it on the other side. Tight, but not
too tight. The idea was to hold a victim in place, not strangle him. At least,
not yet.
Keith Landon gulped, his vulnerable, awkwardly up-tilted adam's apple
heaving and then heaving again just above the inch-wide length of strap-leather.
AKA had also seen to it that the passenger seat itself was reinforced.
"I have a fat--I mean, a really fat!--business partner," he had opined to the
mechanic who did the job. "He gets in here and throws his god-awful weight
around and the damn seat actually acts like it's going to break loose. I'm not
kidding. I want you to make it so strong that the guy could have an epileptic
fit and nothing would budge." AKA wasn't sure the mechanic had believed him,
but he had done the job and done it well. Not surprisingly, many of AKA's best
innovations were the result of experience. This was one. There had been more
than a few car kills over the years, and any number of the guys involved had
close to throwing what amounted to epileptic fits. One had actually succeeded
in cracking the base of the seat in a van AKA had had at the time. His
thrashing was that violent. When faced with death, a strong young guy (like
this cop) could suddenly find reserves of strength that might put Superman to
shame.
There was no use taking chances.
