Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

Playing devil’s advocate he spoke into the tiny recorder, hour after hour, trying to foresee any possible angle, any remote, unforeseen hiccup that could derail a strategy that would lead to his destiny. The exercise proved helpful not only to lay the puzzle out in his mind’s eye but also to keep him awake. The highway was black, very few cars, only semis and trailers delivering goods up and down the coastal highway. By the time he started to see mileage markers, indicating the remaining distance to Valdosta, he was physically and emotionally drained. He pulled off the highway at a rest area to stretch and confirm the directions to the meeting place.

It appeared he would be early, “I’ll maybe get a few minutes to sleep,” he thought, taking the time to use the bathroom, get a drink, then he was back on the road.

The directions Iggy had given were flawless. Jeremy pulled into the long, dirt path that lead to the house, arriving shortly after 5:00 a.m.. A whitetail deer, with a small fawn, stood on the lawn under a large oak tree, they darted into the brush that extended on either side of the home when the approaching lights hit them. The house, an older country style home with an extensive wraparound porch, was well kept with some wear to the dated paint, but for the most part was a sound looking property. His father had taught him what to look for when investing in real estate. He’d listened carefully, perhaps it was those early instructions that had trained him to be so careful, to examine everything he did from multiple angles and to second-guess nothing. His engine finally quiet, he reclined the driver’s seat and closed his eyes, sleep overtook him in seconds but he did not dream.

Tap, tap, tap, Mr. Savard gently rapped his knuckle against the driver's window. Slightly harder this time, tap, tap, tap, and a response from within the sedan's front seat. Mr. Jeremy Marshall shot forward in his seat, slamming his chest against the steering wheel and in the process honking the horn. Not exactly the reaction he had expected, but Iggy couldn’t help but laugh as the dazed man tried to get his bearings. Jeremy looked doe eyed through the window to see a trench coat covered Iggy staring back at him, knuckle still pressed against the glass. They nodded to one another in recognition and Iggy moved away from the door allowing Jeremy to climb out.

A very groggy Jeremy stretched forth his hand, taking Iggy’s in his, and shook it lazily. “Sorry about that, thought I’d catch a couple winks and fell sound asleep. Glad that was you looking back at me.”

“Hope it’s okay that I’m a few minutes late, took longer to drive out here than I estimated?” Ignatius explained in a hushed tone.

“Sure, I needed the extra minutes anyway. I don’t think there’s any need to whisper, you’d said nothing around for miles, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. How was the drive? Bet you’re worn out,” the shorter man said in an effort to break the ice and set them both at ease.

“It was good, long, I’m almost regretting not flying,” Jeremy replied, reaching into his pocket and turning the recorder on. “You still interested in what we discussed over the phone?”

The generally cautious Iggy looked at the ground, again weighing the answer to that decision in his head, "I'd like to hear you out. I'm not interested in anything that gets anybody hurt, other than financially. Didn't get much sleep these past few hours thinking about what you've said but I'm still very much in the dark."

"Fair enough, I wasn't able to lay very much out over the phone so let's see what you think after I give you some details." Jeremy didn't want to give everything away, there would be time for that later, for now getting him to take the bait was the priority, setting the hook would be secondary. The two walked the short distance to the front porch of the house, no chairs, but the railing was clean and sturdy and the men sat in the early morning light and discussed the possible death of Mr. Marshall and the repercussions that would follow.

"I understand and agree that this Beverly Davis should be entitled to some portion of the estate, as you've explained, but certainly not 50 %, especially if your father has the assets you've alluded to. I'm not entirely sure how you'll keep her from securing it should your father pass away and the will shows her as a one half heir, but I'd like to help, as long as you keep the money rolling in. There's nothing worse than dealing with a greedy bitch, believe me, been there — done that, pretty much ruined my life. Everything I've worked for my whole life flushed down the toilet because of an ex-wife. A little payback would feel good for a change."

"There is no doubt that she will get the house, and I'm okay with that, but it's the properties and bank accounts that I find more troubling. I think the first thing we need to do is play this on the up and up, go down the road of executing all the legal options set before us, and only put our 'plan' into motion once we've exhausted all those avenues. We will need to wear her down, get her to the point that she is so anxious to settle that she'll take an offer that is more reasonable to us. I think that's where you'll be able to help." Jeremy saw the other gentleman lean in, his body language expressing how very interested he was in the discussion.

"I have no idea how much Beverly knows about my father's holdings but do you remember the amalgamation of properties he bought a number of years ago, just south of Moody?"

"Yeah, they were pretty rapid fire, one after the other. I think he owns most of that land except for maybe a few farms that were holdouts." Mr. Savard tried to remember the details of the acquisitions but it was too long ago to bring all the minutiae forward.

"He does, except for a single fairly large tract to the extreme south, but it's not of any critical importance. Effectively I need you to throw up any roadblocks you can to slow down her side of this forthcoming battle. I don't understand it enough to tell you how to do it, I'll leave that up to you, but you need to do everything within your power to manipulate, hide, disrupt the flow of information, to Beverly and her legal team, without it drawing attention to you or me. Can that be done?"

Iggy scratched his head, wheels turning, "I don't know for how long I'll be able to stall her, but I'm pretty sure I can slow them down. How long do we need to drag this out?"

"As long as it takes, like I said, we need to really wear her down. She's not getting any younger and she'll eventually see it our way and concede. I've dealt with people like her my whole life, I know she's going to have a breaking point; we just need to find it. I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass Iggy, I need to know if you're in this for the long haul. This could take months or even years, but I can tell you that at the end of the day you'll be a very rich man," Jeremy promised.

"Can you guarantee for me that no one will get hurt?" he asked, but the answer didn't matter, Iggy knew he was in regardless; the dream of wealth untold for a gambling addict was more than he could reject. Jeremy had counted on it.

"Yes, based on the information we have today, I can say yes, but we may have to tweak how we deal with her responses on an ongoing basis. The other thing I'll need from you is your watchful eyes right here in Valdosta. I can't follow everything going on here, I'll need to appear that I'm continuing to keep my nose to the grindstone in DC," the younger Marshall confirmed.

Over the next two hours the two conspirators worked out the logistics of how they would communicate, via the Internet, with a simple coded system. Phone calls would be almost never and generally only payphone-to-payphone. The connection between the two would need to remain totally obscure. Jeremy suspected, barring a quick acceptance of a limited offer, that another conspirator would need to be brought in at a later date to facilitate the nastier handiwork, but he did not address that or a number of other important details with the land and title director. Of course, the entire discussion and plans of the morning would be forgotten if his father survived. Jeremy tried to convince himself that his father's successful recovery was what he truly wanted.