Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“Iggy, Jeremy Marshall, how are you?” doing his best to sound sincere.

“Mr. Marshall, so nice to hear from you, I’m well, thanks for asking. How are things in our capital?”

“They’re good here but I wish I could say the same for my father, he had a heart attack today there in Valdosta and was airlifted to Atlanta.” Assuming the role of the concerned son once again.

Ignatius, Iggy to most, had been very helpful to the Marshall’s over the years as they bought and sold properties in Lowndes County. Jeremy knew Iggy to be a hard worker, stuck in a go nowhere job. Mr. Savard had reached the pinnacle of his career, opportunities had come and gone and with each advancing year Iggy found himself further and further behind. A penchant for gambling and an ex-wife to support had driven the balding, heavyset director almost to suicide. Jeremy considered them to be a bit more than casual acquaintances, more a resource than friend though, but the director didn’t need to know that. For his plan to succeed there would need to be eyes and ears on the ground in Valdosta as well as someone with access to county records. Iggy was the perfect man for the job, but Jeremy knew the director would need to be convinced.

“I’m shocked, I just saw your dad the other day over at the courthouse, he seemed fine. How’s he doing? Do the doctors know anything yet?” a concerned Iggy asked.

“We’re trying to remain positive, but I haven’t even seen him yet, just trying to get things in order so I can drive down.“

It suddenly seemed odd to Ignatius that Mr. Marshall would be taking the time to contact him before flying to his father’s side. Without asking, he could tell that something was up, but patiently waited to see where the conversation was going.

“I’m sure you think it strange that I’d be calling but I have something that I’d like to run by you, that is if you have time,” Jeremy conveyed in his smooth, convincing voice. “I’ll be driving to Atlanta over night and could stop in Valdosta in the morning.”

“Can I ask what this is in reference to?”

“Let’s just say that if Mr. Marshall passes I’m not likely to be in a very generous mood with reference to his bride of two years and I think you could play a helpful role in something I have in mind,” the son said, while trying to pick up the vibe coming from the other end of the line.

“I don’t see how I could possibly be of help, just what would you need me to do, exactly?” he cautiously asked. But before he could get a reply he thought of his surroundings and said, “Hold on, give me a moment.” He got up from his chair, closed the door and lowered the shutters that prevented prying eyes from seeing into his office. Returning to the phone he said, “We’re talking about something outside the law, right?”

The voice at the other end concurred, “You are correct, however, it’s a very victimless proposition, one in which you won’t have to get your hands dirty.” Jeremy was careful not to use the word crime as he lied to his ‘would be’ accomplice. “I can assure you, if all goes as I suspect it will, we will both be very wealthy men for the rest of our lives. Let me emphasize that again, very, very wealthy.” He knew he had Mr. Savard’s attention.

“Okay, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I’m mildly interested, can you tell me what I’d have to do?” the round little man inquired, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The possibility of a sting operation crossed his mind, but the thought of millions in his pocket forced him to press on.

“I’ll be leaving very shortly and will be arriving in Valdosta in approximately 14 hours. We’ll need to meet face to face but somewhere without any onlookers, do you have a suggestion?”

Iggy thought, pausing, just his breathe audible at the other end, “How about a vacant house? I just processed the paperwork on it today, some older home in the country that was part of an estate sale that is empty at the moment. New owners live out of state, won’t be anybody around for miles.” He was pleased that he’d been able to come up with someplace so quickly and under pressure.

“Sounds perfect, get me the details, and Mr. Savard if the authorities show up I will deny everything we’ve discussed and I am very persuasive. You can consider your present career over if you do anything to undermine our little arrangement. Do you understand?” the more aggressive man uttered into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, wealthy you said, right and this is no joke?”

“No joke!”

Iggy scrambled through a couple of folders on his desk until he found the one he needed. He relayed the address and directions quickly over the phone to Jeremy who scribbled it down and placed it into his file folder.

“I don’t have to remind you not to tell a soul about this conversation. Is that understood? Not anyone, but if I get even a hint that you’ve talked, I will pull out and leave you penniless, are we clear?” There was no answer; he repeated rather forcefully, “Are we clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal. So when should I be there?” the shaken director replied.

“Let’s say 6:00 a.m. at the location, come alone.”

“But what is it we are….”

Jeremy cut him off, driving home the point that he was in charge, “There’s absolutely nothing more you need to know now, I’ll explain in the morning.” He dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.

He was a time management genius, a stickler for details, and as he walked the short distance back to his office he started putting his ducks in a row. Rather than flying, he’d drive, reasoning that he’d felt the urgency to get to his father’s bedside and couldn’t wait to arrange a flight. The 13 hours it would take to drive would be valuable time for furthering his agenda and get the small details worked out in his mind before meeting with Iggy. The more he considered the plot, the more it became structurally sound in his mind. He, nor his partner, Ignatius, would have to get his hands dirty, but somebody would. Somebody would have to get their hands very dirty, but who. He could work that out later. Right now, more than anything, he needed to make sure his inheritance didn’t fall into the lap of some gold digging realtor.

Jeremy was unsure of exactly where all his father’s holdings were but he knew they were substantial. The largest and most valuable piece of property in his portfolio was just outside of Valdosta, one that he had purchased years ago with his forward looking vision, and his ability to turn worthless land into viable real estate. He had purchased the land with the expectation that, at some point, the military would need to expand the Air Force Base and the only direction they could go was south. The land had been obtained through multiple purchases from small farms and landowners, until he owned the entire section, save for one tract that fell to the extreme south of his.

With nothing more he could do from Washington, he made the rounds, telling everyone that his father was gravely ill and he would need to leave immediately for Atlanta. He put the most senior aide in charge with instructions to contact him via cell phone should anything urgent arise.

Packing was quick, only taking the necessities; he could buy anything that he’d forgotten later as the need arose. Confident that he had everything, including a small handheld recorder, he filled up with gas and started on the long journey south on highway I-95.

The drive had proven more difficult than Jeremy had imagined. Emotion, stress and the prospect of having to move an illegal conspiracy forward to achieve his goals, weighed heavily on his mind. When he allowed his thoughts to wander, he was taken back to happier times, his father sitting in the stands at his little league baseball game, a trip to New York to see the Yankees, nights around the kitchen table playing cards with family. All fond memories overshadowed by events of the past few years, mostly of his own doing. Opportunities lost, the birthday cards never sent, the phone calls left undone and so many other chances to repair the bridge that separated he and his dad, plagued his thoughts. The selfish panic that had set in when he received word of his father’s condition had mellowed as he’d driven the many hours throughout the night. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved his father. He had been a wonderful man, the example of his youth, a man of character and wisdom. Jeremy had envisioned himself as such a man, but the ugly side of politics had warped his perception of the world, seeing the dark and cynical as the norm, rather the exception. The plot that he had so quickly concocted took further shape and came together within his realist view of things. On one hand, he hoped for a full recovery, vowing to set things right and start anew with their relationship, but the power that would come from his father’s death pushed at him to embrace a more sinister view.