Bentley Little - The Association

Non-Caucasian individuals, due to their propensity for engaging in crimes against both person and property, are not allowed to reside or stay within the boundaries of Bonita Vista.

Jeremy was good.

He and Lupe had left midmorning, and by early afternoon, he was calling Barry from his cell phone on his way back to California, telling Barry to expect a visit from the FBI. While Lupe drove, he'd been making constant calls, cashing in favors, exploiting contacts, all the time filled with the white-hot rage that had become Barry's second nature and that only the homeowners' association seemed able to elicit. He'd convinced the FBI to investigate not only Dylan's, Chuck's, and Danna's disappearance but also local law enforcement's unwillingness to even look into the situation.

"Now for our ace in the hole."

Unreasonably, Barry felt a surge of hope and optimism. "What?" he asked.

"Your boy Kenny Tolkin . He wasn't talking out of his ass, he really was a player. I've learned that there was an article in the Times this morning about how he was A.W.O.L. and quite a few big-name celebrities were worried. He was apparently supposed to meet with Madonna last week but he never showed, something that was totally unlike him. Tom Cruise was stood up on Monday, and there's a quote from Tolkin's L.A.

office where they admit that they haven't heard from him and can't seem to get in touch with him. You have to read this."

"We get the Times. We still subscribe. It just comes in the mail two days late."

"Too long to wait. I'll fax it to you as soon as we get back. Suffice it to say that when someone of this stature is missing, no effort is spared to find him. The bigguns'll be coming down on Bonita Vista.

Hard."

"Good."

"I'm also going to fax you a questionnaire that I want you to fill out and, if possible, get notarized. What I'm going to do is use it as part of a packet for the law enforcement agencies working onTolkin's case. With your testimony as to probable cause, they should be able to obtain a search warrant for the open lands in Bonita Vista."

It was not like Jeremy to be so explicit over the phone. His enthusiasm was overriding his usually overcautious phone habits, and this time it was Barry who had to shoulder the paranoia. "You know this is not a secure line," he said.

"Shit! You're right, dude. I'm sorry. I just got carried away. I'll fax you the rest of my ideas along with the article. Any news at your end?"

"No."

"All right then. Expect to hear back from me in a couple of hours."

There was a pause.

"What is it?" Barry asked.

"It may be nothing, and I don't really want to worry you--"

"Not a secure line, remember."

"I know, I know. But a car almost hit us back in St. George. Maybe it was nothing, maybe coincidence, but it came right at us. An Infiniti." There was a second of silence. "We were passing a new subdivision, a gated community It sped out of the driveway, headed right for us, then sped off when Lupe slammed on the brakes."

"Oh my God."

"Draw your own conclusions. We shouldn't say more. I'll call when we get back home."

Barry turned off the phone, sat down hard on the couch. Jeremy was right, it could be a coincidence. But his mind was already racing.

What scared him the most was the idea that the association could reach all the way to other cities, maybe all the way to California in order to impose its will, to carry out its plans. In his mind, Bonita Vista had always been an isolated community, and he'd assumed that once they got away from here they'd be free from the tyranny of these local yokels. But now he imagined a network of homeowners' associations spread across the country, each doing the others' dirty work, tracking and punishing individuals who crossed them or their brethren. He hoped to God that this was all a gross overreaction and that Jeremy and Lupe's close call with the car was perfectly innocent and understandable.

But he didn't think that was the case.

And neither, he knew, did Jeremy.

"So what's he say?" Maureen asked.

Barry took a deep breath, and told her.

The FBI agent, Thorn Geddes, arrived the next morning after calling ahead an hour, then a half hour, and then fifteen minutes before. Both Barry and Maureen were pacing nervously, awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he pulled into the driveway they were unlocking the front door.

Introductions were short, formal, businesslike. The agent clearly wanted to get started on his investigation and to complete it as soon as possible. He seemed capable, competent, and above all, a legitimate representative of the United States' premier law enforcement agency, with un limited power and resources at his disposal--which gave Barry a feeling of relief and renewed hope.

Geddes looked down at the electronic notebook in his hand. "As I

understand it, Dylan Andrews, Chuck Carlin, and Danna Carlin were guests of yours. Two days ago, Mr. Andrews went missing, and Mr. and Mrs. Carlin disappeared sometime between that night and the following morning. Because of various incidents and confrontations that you have had with the Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association, you suspect that this organization is behind the disappearances. Is this correct?"

Barry looked at Maureen, then nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Good. I will pay a visit to--" He looked at his notebook. "--Jasper Calhoun, and interview Mr. Calhoun about these disappearances."

Barry didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this immediate and straightforward course of action, and the blunt honesty of the agent threw him for a moment. "Can I... come with you?" he asked.

"No!" Maureen said.

"If you wish," Geddes replied, turning off his notebook.

Barry looked over at Maureen. "I need to be there."

"Like hell!"

He put his hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes. "They're not going to kill or kidnap an FBI agent. I'll be perfectly safe. This is my opportunity to confront that bastard."

"I just--"

"I know."

Geddes pretended to ignore them.

"I need to hear what he says," Barry told her. "I need to see his face. These are our friends. I can't just... abandon them. I have to be there."

Maureen took a deep breath, nodded. "Okay."

The agent cleared his throat. "I will be conducting the interview.

You--" He looked at Barry. "--may observe."

"Gotcha."

Maureen kissed him. "Find out where they are," she said.

He let her go, moved away, motioned toward the door. "I know where Calhoun lives," he told the agent. "I can take you there."

"I'll drive," Geddes said in a flat voice. "And we'll take my car. You can direct me to the house."

The phone rang, and Maureen answered it. Barry and the FBI agent were just about to walk outside when she shoved the phone at him. Her hand was trembling, her face pale. "It's for you," she said. "It's him"

Barry stopped, put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Barry." He recognized the stentorian tones of Jasper Calhoun. "Our man at the gate told me that a federal law enforcement agent has come to visit you. I assume this is in regard to your missing friends."

No one had told Calhoun about his missing friends. How had he--?

Hitman.

"Yes," he said, keeping his voice calm. "That is correct."

"Well, the homeowners' association would like to cooperate in any way possible. I'm at the community center right now. If the agent would like to speak with me for any reason, I will be at this location for the next hour or so."

For any reason? Calhoun knew damn well why they wanted to talk to him, and Barry thought of those comic book villains who tried to play mind games with the men who were trying to capture them, who considered life some sort of elaborate chess game.

"We're on our way," Barry said shortly, and hung up. He looked from Maureen to Geddes. "He's at the community center at the bottom of the hill."