Piranha (The Falau Files Book 4) Read online

  Pulling back on the zoom Falau lead his vision over to the church and zoomed in on one of the windows getting a better look at the inside. It was no better than the outside. It was the same boards just the other side. No walls were built of sheet rock that gave the place a look of being holy. The church served its job as a place of worship but was dismal compared to any church Falau had been in before.

  Several people came into view in the window. They must have been sitting thought Falau seeing that they were facing forward and holding what looked to be bibles in their hands. Music filled the air as the parishioners began to sing Amazing Grace. A woman sitting closest to the window brought up a neckerchief to her eyes and wiped herself. Falau zoomed in to see her crying and turning her head in the opposite direction of the others in her row. Her body convulsed, and she started to sob and sat down out of sight. The people around her came to her aid to comfort her.

  Falau read their lips, a skill he had learned years before when he had worked with deaf children as an aide in a school.

  “He is at peace.” said the older man.

  “This is all part of God’s plan.” said another woman behind her.

  “He was a fine boy.” said the younger man hunched over her.

  The front door of the church opened with a crash and four men emerged carrying a small coffin on their shoulders. Within seconds six more men came out carrying a larger coffin on their shoulders. The members of the church came out to organize behind the two coffins and console each other.

  A middle aged man came from the church and held a bible in his hands. It was unmistakable from his clothing that he was the priest of the church and Falau’s contact. Falau cast a small smile at finding this man so early but the sadness of the funeral kept him in check.

  The priest made his way over to the front of the coffins and spoke but only mumbles came through the air reaching Falau. The priest turned and walked leading the procession with the small coffin next followed by the larger one and finally the people in mourning.

  The priest walked slowly and somberly looking down into his bible and mouthing words that Falau could not make out by the angle of his head. He looked deep in prayer and absorbed in his task of bringing these people to their final resting place.

  The procession was short and lead to the back of the church where Falau watched as the coffins were lowered to the ground. He focused in on the mouth of the priest as all eyes drew upon him.

  “Sheila was a wonderful mother and believer in her faith. She could not bear the thought of going on with her life after Jacob fell victim to the disease of the mines. He was a good boy who loved his mother, father, sisters, and brother. His loss is not natural. It was forced upon him. He had no choice.” said the priest looking to the members of his congregation rather than the departed. “His mother could not live life without him and brought herself to their maker. There was no sacrifice she was not willing to make to care for her baby in this life and the next.”

  Falau lowered the camera from his eyes and took a deep breath. The feeling that he was intruding on something personal had overcome him. His mind jumped back to Jennifer and her lifeless body in his car. How she was laid to rest in a coffin not so different than the ones used for these people. Knowing the pain they were feeling he kept his eyes away giving them the respect that he felt they deserved at a time when a child and mother were being buried.

  One line stuck in Falau’s head that the priest said. “Diseases of the mines.” Falau pondered the words and thought the coffin could not hold a child much more than five years old. Was he talking about the mercury? thought Falau feeling the anger rise up inside him.

  Falau pulled himself back into the jungle and made his way back to his pack that sat just where he had left it. He pulled the change of clothes out and put them on. He was now casual with jeans and a t-shirt. Pulling out the map he looked for a course that he could take to drift into the town and not look like he had just came out of the jungle randomly.

  Locating his spot he was on his way.

  Chapter 10

  FALAU PEEKED THROUGH the brush seeing that nobody was in the junkyard in the back. He slid out and stood next to a diesel truck and inspected it.

  A D10 loader. It looked very used. Possible not in working order but it would do to have him lay some ground work before inspecting the town.

  “Hey, can I help you with something?” called an older black man coming from around the front of the shop. He dressed in overalls without a shirt under it. On his head sat an old New York Yankees baseball hat and he held a cigarette between his thick hardened fingers. “I saw you from my window. You need something?”

  “That all depends.” said Falau walking forward with his hand extended offering to shake the other man’s hand. “You have anything in running order?”

  “That D10 can still do the job. No guarantee. All sales final but she runs, and I can bet you that you’re not going to get a D10 as cheap as I will sell you that one for.”

  “So how did you get your hands on such a sweet deal?” questioned Falau doing his best to barter like a local.

  “I never tell any information about my customers. Your secrets are safe with me. I can say it is not stolen and I did not get it from someone who stole it.”

  “Abandoned?”

  The shop owner raised an eyebrow at the young white man with so many questions. “You have a lot to ask for a guy I have never seen around here. What outfit are you with?”

  “The United States Army.” said Falau standing up just a little bit straighter.

  “The army wants a D10 from me? Why?”

  “I am here just doing some scouting. I am with the Corps of Engineers. Your federal government is thinking about expanding their road system and getting some more functional roads running out to this area. We got asked to come in and see if it is possible. If it can be done we will add some labor for the construction with the guys in your military. The United Nations is part of it too.”

  “Why build a road out here? Just miners out here and me.” questioned the shopkeeper taking a long drag from his cigarette.

  “That’s government for ya. Who knows why they want to do anything. Maybe they want to get the pain in the ass inspectors out here faster.”

  The older man let out a chuckle and looked up at Falau with a toothless smile. “Well, you and your boys remember me if they start doing that work out here. I can save people a lot of time by getting them parts that they normally would have to wait weeks for.”

  “Will do, sir.” said Falau shaking the man’s hand again. “It was a pleasure meeting with you.”

  Walking out onto the main street Falau was comfortable that the prostitutes had looked across the street and seen him talking and being friendly with the older man. His face was new in the town and people could say they have seen him around.

  He turned left and aimed himself for the church and arrived in less than a minute.

  There were no steps at the front and a double door with a large gap at the bottom was all that separated him from the inside. Reaching out he turned the knob and the door opened with a squeak of the hinge that cut through the air like a knife.

  The big man stepped in and looked forward to see a man kneeling at the altar with his face in his hands. He had no reaction to the squeaking hinge and stayed with his connection to God.

  Falau was silent and took a seat on one of the wooden benches at the back of the church. He watched the man and he could see his head occasionally bob up and look to the altar. He clutched a rosary in his hands and mouthed the words to the prayers. He had no attention for anything other than this at this time. Falau felt envious that the man had something he believed in so strongly.

  The man blessed himself and kissed the crucifix that laid at the head of his rosary beads and stood up. Looking back he saw Falau sitting and waiting.

  “Have you come seeking God?”

  Falau smiled recognizing the priest from earlier and knew this was the
man that was his contact. “No. I come seeking a man who carries God's message. You.”

  Father Locke held his ground. “Explain yourself.”

  “I am no enemy of the church or you, Father. I have been sent here from the United States Army Corps of Engineers. We have heard you’re a man to speak to about Lawrence Whitmore and his operation. We understand that he could be having some deadly business practice.”

  “Did Mr. Whitmore tell you to come here to test me? Do you think I am a fool? I will not end up out back with the other bodies.”

  “Father, I have identification.” Falau reached into his pocket and produced an identification card for the United States Army. “My commanding officer told me to tell you that Bishop Rollins knows about my visit and if you would like to call him he can attest to whom I am.”

  Falau reached into his pack and removed a satellite phone and turned it on. Handing it to the priest Falau dialed the number of the bishop without asking Locke for it.

  “Just hit send and he will answer. He is expecting that we may call today. He said you would not trust me.”

  Father Locke looked at the number and recognized it at the bishops personal cell phone number given out to few people. Looking back up to the man he had never seen before he handed him back the phone without making the call.

  “OK. I trust you. Why the sudden caring of what Whitmore is doing after all these years.”

  “We hear bad things. Dying children and women. Enslaving people. Is this true?”

  “There are a lot of things true about Mr. Whitmore. He is all powerful in this area. He has all the money and a big house about ten miles from here. He poisons the children and the water supply with his gold getting mercury. People are nothing to him.”

  “And he understands what the mercury is doing to the children?”

  “Everyone knows. The government has laws about how to use the mercury, but he will not follow it. He will not take on the added expense of training and equipment. He would just rather have the children and workers die. He can just make more with his stable of women for hire.”

  “Prostitution, poisoning, breaking mining laws. How come nobody has arrested this guy? Not the locals but the federal police?” getting more pointed with his questions.

  “He sells children as well. He commits murder by his own hand and from the guards he hires. No level of police want to come here. It would be death for them. Their bodies would be left in the jungle and be devoured in days leaving nothing behind for an investigation. Out here in the jungle the man with the most money is the law. He is the government and he is in control. Nothing can stop him other than another rich man who wants to take the place over. Then it is a war.”

  “You have seen this before?”

  “Yes, as a child I worked for Whitmore. Shortly after my father died when I was a teenager, a large mining company came in and had purchased ten claims. They were ready for mass production and had the funds to hire all of Whitmore’s salve workers away. After they set up camp they started disappearing one by one each night. They set up a perimeter with guards, but it didn’t do any good. Their workers were being picked off one by one. After two weeks they were doing anything they could to get away. They left all their equipment and never returned. Whitmore set up the junkyard to sell things off, so he could make more money off them. He controls everything.”

  Falau rubbed the stubble that had formed on his chin over the last three days. “I am sure he is a powerful man, but I work for a powerful group myself. Do you think you could take me to his home, so I can get a look at it?”

  “I can, but, us going close to Whitmore’s home opens the possibility that his men could fire on us. Are you willing to take that chance?”

  “I am. I want to see this guy put away. Maybe not as bad as you do but I can see he needs to be stopped and the only way to do that is with an organization with some fire power.”

  Father Locke nodded his head and started to the door.

  Chapter 11

  KEEPING A BRISK PACE Falau and Father Locke reached the halfway point in their journey in a little over an hour. There were no signs of human settlements to be found and only occasionally they could hear the sound of mining equipment in the distance.

  Falau wiped his hand across the back of his neck removing the sweat that had already saturated his shirt. The air was not overly hot or humid, but the sun was relentless and beat down not having a cloud to hide behind. Falau’s face took on a red tinge from sunburn.

  The landscape was open and vastly different than the jungle. High grass was everywhere, and Locke kept them on the cart paths that had been worn down over time. The grass was chest high and the perfect hiding places for the big predatory cats that inched their way in on their prey before lashing out and attacking. The feeling of the 9MM hand gun strapped to his back was reassuring to the big man. He could at least wound or scare an animal into running away with the firearm.

  “How you doing yankee?” asked Father Locke.

  “Fine. But I am not a Yankee I am a Red Sox.” said Falau causing himself to smile at his own joke.

  “Red Sox? What is a Red Sox?”

  “Never mind. It’s just some American sports humor to amuse myself.”

  “Oh!” said Father Locke. “Yankee like in baseball. Red Sox like baseball. I like the baseball very much, but I can’t see any out here at the settlement. No TV and the only radio is local. American baseball is fine, but I like the Latino leagues the best.”

  “How do you know so much about baseball. I thought you spent most of your life out here.”

  “I have lived a great amount of my life in this small area, but I had to become a priest. You see when I was a boy I saw Whitmore cut the hand off my father. He made an example out of him. When I got to 13 years old I ran from the enslavement and lived on the streets of whatever town I came to. I was starving, and my body was failing me. A priest found me at fifteen years old and took me into the church and let me sleep on the pew. He let me in each night and I would find water and a sandwich waiting for me. I would read the Bible at night before going to bed and I started to show up for mass on Sundays. Three months later Father Daulton and I had our first real conversation. Before that I did not trust him. He was a white man and I thought he was like Whitmore.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “The Bible. I had so many questions. I had heard some of the teachings before as a child, but Whitmore keeps religion and education from the workers. My mother could read and taught me at night. She would write words in the dirt with a stick. Father Daulton was a good man to me and he let me live at the church. I cleaned up and cared for things. When I turned 18 I asked him if I could become a priest and he told me no.”

  “No? Why?”

  “He told me I needed to go live life for a few years and if I wanted to become a priest after that I could. He thought I may find the love of a woman and that would be my life. He did not want me to have any regrets. He handed me $2000 and told me to travel and get a job. Make friends and enjoy life and I did as he told me. I lived a good life those years and learned a lot. But the thing I learned the most was I wanted to be a priest.”

  “No woman won your heart?”

  “I was gone four years and two women won my heart.” said Father Locke casting a broad smile across his face. “They were wonderful. And before you ask, yes, I did enjoy all they had to offer, and I can deal with not having it anymore.”

  Falau let out a sturdy laugh and slapped the priest on the back launching him a step forward.

  Over the next hour Falau built the conversation keeping it focused on Locke. He gave pieces of information only when asked and kept his comments to a minimum. His backstory was loose and open. He did not need to get caught in a lie with the only person he had as a solid contact.

  Father Locke increased his speed up a steep incline and made it to within ten feet of the top before stopping.

  “Need a rest, Father?” asked Falau placing his h
ands on his knees and breathing hard.

  Locke grinned with his hands on his hips looking down at the younger man who was having a hard time keeping up with him. “I am doing well. At the top of this hill you will have a clear view of Lawrence Whitmore’s home. It is a side view giving you all you need to know.”

  Falau and Locke dropped to their knees and inched their way to the top leaving most of their bodies behind the hill. The wall to the house sat a half mile away and in the distance the mansion stood. The wall was made of brick or stone not just chain link fence or wood. It was about two feet thick and had a worn path on each side of it. Guard patrols with dogs walked the fence line spaced out by hundreds of yards. Maybe there were three of them in total, at least that is all that Falau could count from his spot. There was little between the house and the walls just open grass. No locations to hide.

  “The house is a mix of him adding on to it. On the inside none of it makes sense. It turns in every direction. Only the people who are there all the time have any idea how to get around in there.”

  “My hope is we can get him outside.”

  “He hunts off the back porch for birds. He will have a gun, but he will be in the open.”

  “Looks like a long shot to get close to him in there. Maybe it would be better if we get him at the mining site. Can you show me that?”

  “Yes. But let me ask you a question first.”

  Falau kept his eyes on the mansion studying it trying to find an opening that could be exploited. “Go ahead.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Falau turned his head to Locke and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we cover all that back at your church?”

  “I know what you told me back there, but I would like the truth.”

  “That is the truth. What do you think? I am out here just for the fun of it?”

  “You are a good liar, but you are not fooling me. Remember, I told you I have lived in the modern world. I know about internet and I know about satellites. I know your government has satellites that can see the tattoo on my arm. So why would they need to send a single engineer in to do reconnaissance on a small time mining operation?”