Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) (26 page)

“Good evening, Lisa. I trust you have had a pleasant day.” In front of him, in the middle of the room, was a torture rack, and restrained to the rack was a beautiful, fully nude redhead. Lisa was gagged with a leather strap and a red ball in her mouth. She tried to speak, but he couldn’t understand her. There were three doors in the room; the bathroom door was open, and Walter walked in and turned on the light. The room almost glowed because of its white porcelain fixtures. It was immaculate. He washed his hands, all the while speaking to the restrained woman. “You are going to love dinner tonight, Lisa. We are having pheasant under glass with all the trimmings. I hope you’re hungry. Based on the fact that I haven’t fed you in two days, you probably are. I don’t want you to lose that girlish figure of yours.” He laughed as he walked back into the room while drying his hand with a white towel. “Lose your figure. Impossible. You’re still a young girl. A beautiful, young, supple fifteen-year-old girl. Hmm…you are so well developed for your age. I swear the first time I saw you I thought you were in your twenties. Your body lies about your true age. I love the fact that you are a real redhead. Pubic hair doesn’t lie.” He rubbed his hands together and said, “We should have a little treat before dinner, don’t you agree?” He walked over to the door directly adjacent to the bathroom and opened it with his remote, releasing the magnetic lock and turning on the light. In it was every type of torture device known to man.

“You know, Lisa, that rack is over five hundred years old. I picked it up in Spain, oh, twenty years ago. It was used during the Spanish Inquisition. A masterful system for extracting confessions. I had it completely refurbished and brought back to its original state with a few modern upgrades, of course, so that it would do what it was created to do, inflict PAIN! It may be a medieval device, but the designer understood human anatomy, pain tolerance, and endurance.” He took down a long, black bullwhip and walked back into the room facing the girl. “So, Lisa, are we going to have a nice intimate evening?” She nodded wildly. “Are you excited about serving me and my manhood?” Again, she nodded emphatically. “Oh, that’s just wonderful. He dropped the end of the whip to the ground holding the handle tightly. “What I enjoy about this particular whip is the insulated handle, so I don’t get the sting of the drawback when it strikes your flesh.” She screamed through the gag, and he moved over to her and took it off. He placed his finger over her mouth and said, “Shush…you know the rules. Only speak when spoken to, and I will not tolerate any screaming. Understood?” She nodded. “Also, the felt covering allows me to whip you soundly without leaving any marks. That’s just so excellent; all the pain without the scars. And I get the excitement of meting out punishment, or in this case reinforcing what the punishment will be for your misbehaving. You understand?” She nodded slowly and turned her head, wincing as she waited for the first strike of the whip.

The floor of the room was smooth concrete, and he said, “Well, I suppose we should get this done, so you can serve me the rest of the evening.” He moved his wrist, and the tip of the whip struck a corner of the rack. It didn’t hit the girl, but she flinched, and a tear rolled down her face. “Ah…ah now. You know the rules. You have three strikes of the whip coming to set the tone for the evening. Every time you make a sound, or I see a tear, you add another. Do you really want a repeat of last night?” She shook her head, keeping her head turned and her eyes closed. “I would think not, child. I had to hit you thirty-five times. Do you know how much my wrist hurt after that? You don’t want to inflict that kind of pain on me again, do you?” Once more, she shook her head. “I didn’t think so.” He flicked his wrist again and the tip of the whip hit the wood and steel between her legs but didn’t touch her skin. She didn’t move. “Ah…you know the game; good girl. You won’t know when the three strikes are going to hit you, so you need to be prepared. He flicked his wrist again, only this time the whip whirled up and struck her on her breasts. She didn’t move, flinch, or make a sound.

“One. I had the most stressful day. One of my doctors is threatening to leave our hospital family. To say I’m unhappy is an understatement. You understand how much I love my hospital staff and the patients that we treat.” The whip tip struck the floor on the girl’s left side, missing her flesh. “I mean, look at you. I took you home with me from Malibu General where you were a candy striper, and I have been taking care of you this past week. Right?” As the whip struck her on the torso, she nodded but didn’t react to the pain. “Two,” he said with a thrill in his voice. “You are doing so well. I’m certain that my wrist and your flesh will only have to endure one more. So, anyway, I’m thinking of having her to the house as my guest. Of course, that means that I will have to find you other accommodations. He whipped her once more, hitting her breasts again but not a sound was made. He rolled up the whip and said, “Well then, dinner!”

“We’ll talk about your new accommodations over dinner. I want this room ready for its next occupant. I’m hoping that I might be able to keep her for a long time.” He stopped and said, “Oh darn, I almost forgot. It’s time for a photo of you on the rack.” He took a digital camera from a table and a remote control that was sitting on the same stand. With a push of a button, the rack tilted straight up and Lisa was hanging by her wrists and ankles. She howled in pain and Walter frowned, saying, “I should whip you again, but I’ll let it slide. I’m in such a good mood. Okay, on three say cheese…” He lifted the camera, and at the same time pushed a second button on the remote; 110 volts of electricity passed through the girl’s body as he took the photograph of her contorted features. He shut it off fast, and her body stopped convulsing, and her breathing was shallow. Her eyes remained closed. “I just needed that shot for my collection. A little keepsake to remember you by. Now, let’s get some dinner in you.”

He unstrapped her from the table, and she tumbled onto the concrete floor. “Lisa, you are quite clumsy.” He lifted her up by her left arm until she was standing. “I must say I love what you’re wearing for dinner.” Her nude skin was pale; her nipples were hard from the cold, and he walked behind her, pushing his foot into the small of her back as they moved out of the cellar toward the dining room. Once in the room, he had her sit in a chair opposite him and took a set of leg irons and placed them around her ankles. The restraint was also a torture device; a steel rod holding her legs apart with small steel spurs on the inside that punctured her skin when he tightened them. She whimpered as he pressed the locks closed. A look of blind anger and hatred grew across his face. “You haven’t learned a thing, have you?” He cinched the ankle locks tighter, and she screamed. He struck her hard across her breasts, knocking the wind out of her. She tried to cry and breathe at the same time. He stepped down on the steel bar between her legs, and she howled again. “Have it your way, Lisa. I will not tolerate insolence. I’ve been working to train you, and you have ignored my every effort. If you have not learned by now, then you are quite hopeless.”

He walked over to the buffet where the chafing dishes were keeping the food hot. He pulled out one of the steel serving spoons and placed it directly on the burner underneath one of the warming trays. He took a plate from his side of the setting and hummed the song that had been in his head all day while filling his plate with the delectable meal. He then brought the plate over to the table. “I will eat my meal in silence. If you make but a sound to disturb my meal, you will be sorry.” Lisa did as she was told until Walter moved her chair, and she cried out in pain. He didn’t say a word, just took hold of her chair and moved it effortlessly across the floor and placed it against the wall. “You anger me, Lisa; I just wanted to have a quiet meal together and then adjourn to the bedroom, but you had to make a sound without permission.” There was a hot pad on the heating table and he placed it on his hand. “You wouldn’t want me to get burned, would you?” There was no reaction. “I like to leave my mark on my lady friends, something they can remember me by. In your case, I need to make room for my next guest, and since you have decided that you no longer want to play by the rules I’m going to use this spoon to punish you.”

He lifted the chair, sending Lisa to the floor face down. He put his right foot into the middle of her back and with his left hand grabbed the large steel spoon, now white hot, off the burner and placed it on her ass. A blood curdling scream filled the room as she wailed and thrashed under his foot as he moved the spoon from spot to spot. “Oh my…the smell of your burning flesh is revolting.” She continued to scream as he continued moving the spoon over the back of her body, leaving no area untouched. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her as the leg irons cut ever deeper into her flesh. He stomped on her back, knocking the wind out of her again, and walked to the open wine cellar and into the red room. He returned moments later with a steel bucket in his hand. He removed her leg irons and rolled her onto her back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.” He took the master remote he had used earlier and pushed a button, opening the walls of the bedroom and letting in the pale moonlight glistening off the water. There were no lights outside. He disarmed the exterior security and dropped the bucket in front of a now kneeling Lisa.

“I’ve learned through experience it is best to ask my guests to leave when I feel they have overstayed their welcome.” She looked down into the bucket in front of her, and she could make out a hammer and some large long objects. “What are you going to do to me, sir?” Her young eyes looked up at him with sadness and pain. He didn’t respond but grabbed her by the hair, and she began to scream for help. “Scream long, hard, and loud, child. There isn’t a soul who can hear you.” He dragged her out the open walls, fighting him all the way down a concrete walkway that lead to the boathouse. He didn’t have her tight enough, and suddenly she was free. Lisa took off in a full run across the grass. Her screams were magnified by the walls around the backyard and also drowned out by the crashing surf. Walter stood watching her run across the lawn but made no effort to run after her. He pulled the remote from his pocket and watched as she ran in the direction of the side gate. He pressed a button on the remote and Lisa went from a full run to flopping around on the wet grass like a fish out of water. He released the button and walked across the lawn to where she lay taking deep, hard breaths.

“Lisa, Lisa, Lisa…do you think that you can escape me?” He grabbed her again and began to drag her back toward the boathouse. She was unable to resist. He could hear her weeping, powerless to fight him. The doors opened automatically upon his approach, and he dragged the girl inside, and the doors closed behind them. The lights were on, and she could see wood planking and beams as well as a large boat. “I see you’re admiring my small sea craft. Well, don’t you worry. We’re going for a ride right now.” He pressed the button on the remote, the bedroom walls closed, and the electronic voice said, “armed, away, exit now.” He pulled Lisa up a small gangway onto the boat where he zip tied her hands and feet together. The bay doors opened out to the Pacific, and the boat pulled out onto the open sea. As the doors closed behind them, the boat’s motor roared through the darkness. His GPS was the only light on the boat. It glowed with an eerie red light that shined on Walter’s face making Lisa scream in horror.

The motor’s roar began to lessen as the boat slowed, and he saw his position. He also had a sonar scanner usually used for deep sea fishing flashing on the dash in front of him. “Oh, Lisa, we’re here!” He stopped the engine; the sea was calm but as black as pitch, and the stars were bright above her head. Walter held a large two by six over his shoulder, which he dropped near her head, the sound reverberating off the boat deck. He pulled two large black objects out from under the seating area. “Lisa, do you like to swim?” She started screaming again as he took a knife from his waistband and cut the zip ties off her wrists. He dragged her over until the upper half of her body was on the wood. He placed his left foot against her chest and took the hammer and one of the objects from the bucket. He moved down on her with his knee and grabbed her left arm, pulling it out straight and placing a U-shaped object over her wrist. Before she knew what was happening, he hit the object with the hammer, and it drove into the wood, pressing her wrist hard against it. He did the same with the other wrist until she was unable to move either arm. “I’d like to say that what I’m about to do is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you, but that would be a lie.”

He turned on a deck light, and she looked from side to side to see her wrists. She saw Walter remove two long, thin objects from the bucket. He dropped them next to her side then picked one up and held it in his left hand over her left forearm and jammed it into her flesh. She felt the stab of a cold piece of steel just above her wrist bone, and with two swift blows, Walter drove a spike through her lower forearm and into the wood. She screamed in agony as he repeated the same on her other arm and continued screaming and babbling incoherently as he nailed two black objects to each side of the wood. “I know I asked if you like to swim, but what I really meant was do you like to dive? You have two twenty pound weights attached to your new arm bling.” As he pushed her toward an opening on the boat he said, “Here is where we say goodbye; I have a lot of great photographs and video of our time together.” She was still screaming as he pushed her overboard into the icy sea, her cries and screams falling almost immediately silent as her body sank below the water. With a search light, he stood looking down into the water where the last of the air bubbles were breaking the surface. “I had a great time,” he said. “This is a most perfect send off for you and me. Bon voyage.” He turned off the lights and headed back to shore. He backed the boat into its slip, then hosed it off to make sure it was clean and fresh for his next guest.

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘Jim looked at the two of them when they
got on scene and said, “Oh guys, this is
going to be one for the record books.”’

J
ohn arrived bright and early for his first day of work with the FBI. He had been processed with incredible speed, being as his new employer was the federal government, and he knew from personal experience it could take six months to get a pencil approved. He had learned just to buy things himself. Security called up to Steve’s office, and John was ushered off to Human Resources. He arrived at the federal building at eight forty-five a.m. and was sitting in Steve’s office with a government issued side arm, name tag, and temporary field credentials by nine fifteen.

“I’m impressed, Agent Hoffman. I’ve never seen the federal government work so fast.” “I told HR not to screw around; I needed you on a very important case. Plus, it didn’t hurt that you already have the highest federal security clearance available.” “Well, sir, you have pull in the government that I have rarely experienced.” They both laughed, then Steve asked if he wanted a cup of coffee. John declined. “I don’t drink caffeine.” He looked John up and down and asked if he was one of those butt-ass crazy health weirdos. “You need to be more specific.” Steve shook his head and asked if he drank. “You need to be more specific, Agent Hoffman.” “Great! I have a smart ass on my hands. Do you drink alcohol?” “No sir. Alcohol clouds the judgment.” “Smoke?” “Nope.” “Do drugs?” “Nope.” He looked at John’s physique, “Steroids?” “No, sir.” “How the hell can you have a build like yours without steroids?” “Dedication, Agent Hoffman. A strict workout and weight lifting regimen, a healthy diet, as much sleep as the job will allow, and a lot of water.” “For God’s sake, please tell me that you eat meat!” “Oh yes, sir…high in protein. I eat foods high in protein and low in fat.” “Beef has fat.” “Yes, but I eat lean cuts. Is this line of questioning a part of the job because I don’t see its relevance?” Steve shook his head and asked John to follow him.

They walked two doors down to a bare office with a desk, a chair, and a desk lamp. “This is your office. I’ll have research bring up all known cases on The Iron Eagle; I want a preliminary profile from you by three.” “I will do my best, sir.” “No, John, you will do better than your best; I want to see some solid insights into this killer.” “Agent Hoffman, may I ask you a question?” “What?” “While I know that you and the Bureau have been hunting The Eagle for nearly a decade, it seems to me that there are higher profile serial killers that you should focus on…like the Basin River Killer. I gave you and your staff a lot of information. I bet I could give you a better profile on him faster.” Steve sat down on the edge of John’s desk. “I know you don’t know me very well, so I will make this short and to the point. That killer entered my home and Jim’s home and took what was precious to the two of us. He knows where we live; he knows our lives, wives, and families. He pushed this into a whole new arena when he entered our private lives. I want a solid profile on him as fast as possible. I don’t want him coming back and doing to our families what he did to Marshal Makin and Barry Mullin.” John nodded his head, “I understand, Agent Hoffman. It’s personal. Get me the files, and I’ll get you a preliminary profile as requested.”

Steve went to walk out but stopped. “You don’t know what it’s like to have the person you love more than anything in the world torn from you. I know that we found them alive and unhurt, but its cold comfort knowing he could come back again.” He turned to leave when John cleared his throat and said with a great deal of emotion, “I do understand, Agent Hoffman. You read my file. What you can’t possibly understand is having the love of your life, your best friend, ripped away and killed in a brutal, sadistic manner. They found my wife, too, Agent Hoffman, but she wasn’t unhurt, and I can’t go home and hold her anymore. I have to live with the fact that her killer is still out there, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I may never know who took her or why.” As he spoke, Steve could see the anguish and raw emotion in every fiber of his being. “I’m sorry, John. That was very insensitive of me. But I ask you to put yourself in my shoes.” “Yes, sir. I will see you at three.” Steve walked out, and John sat down behind the desk. It was only a matter of minutes before two staffers came into his office with two boxes of files. He took the files out of the boxes and spread them out on his desk and the floor. He opened his laptop and began to write. He didn’t need to open the files; he knew what was in them, but he had to create a profile of The Eagle that both humanized him, and, at the same time, gave a credible profile that Hoffman wouldn’t see through.

Jim was driving to his office when he received a call that a body had been found by a jogger in the LA River, off Balboa Boulevard in the basin near Balboa Park in Encino. He acknowledged the call, pulled a U turn, and jumped onto Desoto Avenue. He turned left onto Victory and followed it until it intersected with Balboa. The crime scene wasn’t hard to find; there were media and black and whites all over the place. He parked across from the basin and crossed the street. He didn’t need to flash his badge; all of the guys on scene knew him. He approached the commander and asked, “So what do we have, Rick?” He was trying to fend off the media and talk to Jim without giving too much detail. “It’s a mess, Jim. Give me a second. ‘Listen, folks, I have no comment on this situation at this time. We just arrived on scene; we are securing the area and interviewing witnesses. I will hold a news conference in two hours to update you on our progress.’” The questions were still flying from reporters as he walked away with Jim hot on his heels. “So what do we have?”

Rick looked at him and said, “A crime scene that stretches nearly a mile, starting right here and heading west through the basin. I’ve been a cop a lot of years, Jim, but I’ve never seen anything like this.” “The Basin River Killer?” Rick shook his head, “Yes and no.” “Can you be a little less specific, Rick. I don’t think that was vague enough for me.” “I have no idea…the M.O. follows the basin killings, but if this is him, he has taken the display of his victims to a whole new level.” “Do you have any idea how many victims we’re dealing with?” “Jim…what we have are parts…lots and lots of parts.” “Okay.” He looked down at his watch; it was two thirty. He called Steve’s cell and blurted out, “Meet me at Victory and Balboa in Encino. We have a whole new ballgame with the Basin River Killer. Is John on duty with you?” “Yes.” “Bring him. I have a feeling that what we have here IS the Basin River Killer.” “If it’s him, why do I need John? I have him working on The Eagle profile?” “Because I have a feeling Basin’s the victim, and I bet you know who must have found him.”

Steve bolted straight toward John’s office. He was sitting at his desk typing and told him he’d have his preliminary profile within another five minutes. Steve explained the situation and told him to grab his things as he was about to get a crash course in crime scene profiling. “But I already did a profile on the Basin River Killer.” “Yea, well, if Jim’s right, we will be throwing it in the trash…he thinks the victim at the scene is the Basin River Killer.” John smiled, “Oh, well then, that’s a whole different ballgame.” “Grab your coat; we need to move.” John grabbed his coat and laptop as they headed out.

“Can’t you go anywhere without a computer under your arm?” John placed it on the floor of Steve’s car as he fastened his seat belt. “I can assure you, Agent Hoffman, that you want me to have this computer if we are going to a crime scene.” As they headed south on the 405 Freeway toward Encino, Steve asked him to explain. “Well, with this little computer I can process an entire crime scene on screen while your investigators are still putting on their gloves.” “How the fuck do you do that?” “Technology. Embrace it; it’s your friend, not your enemy. You would be amazed at the information that can be gleaned through this system.” “Yea, yea, yea…I understand email and cell phones. Outside of that, I don’t understand shit about computers. That’s a young person’s game. And call me Steve.” “Oh, now that’s not true, Steve. You spend two days with me, and I will have you speaking computer and text-speak like you’re a teenager.” “I’ll pass. That’s why I have people like you, so you can extrapolate the information from your little computer and tablets and whatever other technology you have.” John let out a laugh, “So, where are we going to meet Jim?” “The river basin atVictory and Balboa in Encino.” “Should be interesting.”

Sara called John’s cell phone but got his voicemail. “John, it’s Sara. Hey, I really enjoyed the talk and seeing you again was so wonderful. I want to see if you want to get together for dinner tonight. I don’t want to wait until Wednesday. I’ve been thinking things over on the job front, as well as some of the other things we talked about and want to bounce something off you. Give me a call on my cell. I’ve had a great nap, and I’m just taking it easy. Hope you have the evening free. Love you.” She returned to the book she had been reading on her E-reader as she laid in the sun soaking up the rays. She heard her phone beep, telling her that she had a new email, but she ignored it as she laid in the sun feeling sleepy. It was quarter past three, and she just wanted to enjoy her afternoon in peace. She had no sooner dozed off when she heard her doorbell. “Jesus Christ, what now?”

She left her phone and E-reader on the lawn chair and went to answer the door. It was a florist delivering her two dozen red roses. The card read, ‘From a secret admirer,’ and it didn’t take her two seconds to guess who sent them. She called Marty at the hospital and asked if he had spoken to Walter. He told her that he had indeed spoken to Walter, that he understood how she felt and agreed not to make further advances. He also said the offer was still on the table. She calmed down and put the flowers on the counter in the kitchen. She thought about it and decided that they must be from John and let out a sigh of relief and went back to her book and the sun.

John’s phone buzzed as they were pulling onto Balboa off the 405. He pulled it out and saw that Sara had called. He asked Steve if he could return the call, and he nodded. He listened to the message and then called Sara. She picked up quickly and thanked him for calling her back. “No problem,” he said, “it’s kind of a hectic time, Sara. I got your message and would love to have dinner with you tonight. I’m en route with my new boss to a situation, but I’ll be off at six.” Steve glared at him. “Well, I might be off at six. Why don’t I call you when I know I’m free, and we can make plans.” “That sounds great. I don’t want you to feel pressured; I just want to bounce some ideas around.” “No problem. I will call you later.” He hung up and was getting out of the car on scene when he received a text message from Sara thanking him for the roses. “Roses… what roses?” he said out loud. Steve looked at him and asked, “What? Who did you send roses to?” “No one.” He sent Sara a text to tell her they weren’t from him. Jim was approaching them as John’s phone buzzed in his pocket, but he couldn’t look at the message or respond. Jim looked at the two of them when they got on scene and said, “Oh guys, this is going to be one for the record books.”