Spes Magna Games

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Management was as efficient as usual. Guxem Bogdani. The man with the camera. The man in the room who filmed Jones murder Sharon. Bogdani procured young girls, usually runaways or undocumented immigrants. He had served time in both U.S. and Albanian jails.

Jared leaned against the bus stop shelter’s exterior. He wore jeans, running shoes, a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. He’d slung a backpack across one shoulder. He watched across the street. It was nearly lunch time. The parking lot across the street was half full, mostly with economy-class cars belonging to the people in the laundromat. Next door to the laundromat stood Shqipëri, a restaurant.

The picture window was mirrored. The Albanian flag, red with black, two-headed eagle, painted on the window. One public entrance. Bogdani had just arrived. He stood near his BMW, Italian suit shining in the mid-day sun. Two other men were with him. A third exited the restaurant as he neared the door. Hugs all around. Old friends meeting for lunch.

Jared recognized the third man. The pictures in the hall outside Jones’s bedroom. One showed Jones standing shoulder to shoulder with an older man, his full head of silver hair impeccably styled, a gold nugget pinky ring glinting the light of the flash.

“Who is he?” Jared said as he crossed the street. Jones followed, modestly covering his genitals even though no one driving or walking by could see him.

“Tom Jaworski. He’s a senior partner at Felkin. He was my mentor.”

Jared walked slowly past the parking lot, noting the make, model, and license plate number of the Escalade into which Jaworski climbed.

“He’s one of you, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Jones admitted, and Jared detected for the first time a hint of shame in his voice. “He’s the one who, uh, introduced me to my first girl.”

A couple of women, arms laden with boutique shopping bags approached Jared along the sidewalk, looking at him worriedly. The one closest to him clutched her purse a bit more tightly. Jared smiled and touched the brim of his cap.

“Ladies.”

They picked up their pace, their heels clacking on the concrete. A few steps later, Jared was behind the wheel of his car. Jones sat in the front passenger’s seat.

“Why is Jaworski meeting Bogdani?”

Jones turned away, staring out the window, biting his lower lip, but it didn’t help. He still answered. “They must be arranging another party. Tom doesn’t trust e-mail or phones for the arrangements.”

Jones turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb into traffic.

“Tell me about these parties. Be thorough.”

Jones was, and Jared fought back the urge to send the ghost away rather than listen to the confession. The “parties” were nothing of the sort. They involved a cabal of wealthy, well-placed men from several cities. Men of influence, men of renown. Most would be described as pillars of a community. All of them were rapists. Many of them were sadists. More than a few were murderers. And Bogdani and his organization provided the girls upon which these men’s lusts fed. This same organization also provided the location and the security for the evening’s depravities.

“I don’t know,” Jones said. Tears wet his face. “I’ve never been to one of the parties. Tom’s told me about them. Said I’d be on the guest list ‘soon’ if things worked out.”

“By ‘worked out’, you mean if you killed Sharon?”

Jones’s jaw trembled. He nodded. “But I don’t know where the party will be held. You, you killed me before I was told.”

Jared pulled into a grocery store’s parking lot, and parked in the closest space. Engine idling, air conditioning blowing cool air, he nevertheless felt warm. He closed his eyes, rubbed the sides of his neck with his fingers. The thud thud of pain behind his eyes matched his pulse.

“How do you find out the time and place?”

Jones shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess Tom would tell me. Like I said, he prefers face-to-face. No way he’d call or e-mail. Not about something like this.”

Jared punched the steering wheel. The horn barked. Jones flinched.

“Go away, damn you.”

Jared sat in his car with nothing but his pain and anger.

Tags: fiction, Lilacs