“I am, yes,” the young man answered.
“I’m here to take you home if you want to go.”
“Hell yes!” the men answered in unison, as they jumped to their feet and came to the door.
When they were out Tommy replaced the pole across the door. Then, turned and led the two men into the jungle as quickly as he could.
Once he had them a safe distance away from the clearing he turned and looked at them earnestly. “I’m Tommy LeSade. I was sent by your father to bring you home. We have a five-mile run ahead of us. So we won’t have time to stop and chat about old times. The rebels may notice you’re missing any minute. It may be hours, too. So, we take no chances. I will lead. You will follow. You will keep up or die trying. Look where you’re going and look where you’re stepping. When you can go no farther call out, we’ll take a few minutes break. You ready?” Tommy asked, quickly and quietly.
“They weren’t rebels. Just farmers,” Adam said softly.
“Whatever. They were kidnappers and holding you for ransom. We don’t have time to debate the finer points now, let’s go,” Tommy finished, then turned and took off through the jungle at a slow run. “Step where I step,” he said over his shoulder as he activated the signal on his radio.
The close heavy air and the intense heat of the jungle soon had the two young men breathing heavy and sweating profusely. Tommy didn’t breathe heavy at all, but, like them, was sweating gallons. He opened his back pack and withdrew three bottles of water. He passed each of the men one. They drank in silence.
“Drink it all,” he said, shoving his bottle back into his pack.
When they finished he stuffed their empty bottle into his pack, then turned and began running through the jungle once again. He turned and ran backwards, then seeing they were right with him, he turned and ran on. He checked his compass and GPS screen and, seeing he was dead on course, set a ground covering pace. He wanted them to get as much distance between themselves and the camp before one of them gave out.
After three miles or so, Tommy stopped and turned to them. “How you doin’?” he asked, still not breathing hard.
“Fine,” they both answered breathlessly.
“Ready to go the last two?” he asked with a smile. Secretly, he was very proud of them.
“Sure,” they answered in unison.
Tommy nodded, then turned and took off at the same ground covering pace.
Fifteen minutes later he heard the slap and thud of a helicopter rotor in the distance. He smiled inwardly that he had led them straight home to the chopper.
Captain Stamper waved from the cockpit as the three men broke from the jungle and into the clearing. They waved back and came at a run toward the opened cargo door. A crew member had opened the door in preparation of their arrival. He then assisted them inside, climbed in after them and closed and secured the door.
The three sat looking at each other as the Blackhawk rose swiftly from the clearing, nose down as it pivoted and began to streak into the clear blue sky.
They all started laughing and talking at once, with high fives all around.
Chapter 14
During the long flight to Brownsville, the three talked nonstop. Tommy learned a lot about the so-called ‘rebels’ from Adam junior. They were not really ‘rebels’ as such; mostly farmer/gatherers, goat herders. They harvested fruits and nuts from the surrounding jungle and cut bananas when they could find a good tree. They harvested honey from wild bees and basically survived in a way of life they had enjoyed for countless centuries. Several times a year, they went to the coast, nearly a hundred miles away, and feasted on seafood. All told, they were mostly harmless.
“Mostly it was my fault we were held hostage,” Adam admitted. “I told them my father was very wealthy and would pay a ransom to get me back alive and unharmed. I thought that would help the village forever. The cost of living is basically nothing there. Plus, my father has billions, so why not help the people I enjoyed living with?
“Then, Marty here, shows up with a briefcase full of cash and everything changed. The Patron of the village decided that if Dad would pay a million to get his only son back, then he would pay a hundred times that amount just as fast. Any father would do the same thing to protect his son, right?
“In this case, the Patron was correct, in a sense. So, he took us both to the shed and locked us up under guard. If you could call Ramone a guard. He was really just a teenager in his head. Slight retardation, I suspect. He wouldn’t harm a fly and the Patron gave explicit orders that we were not to be harmed in any way. We were, after all, his ‘golden goose’, so we were protected and cared for. We received plenty of food and water and were never mistreated. We just couldn’t leave. They didn’t even talk bad to us, or threaten us. We were ‘part’ of the village.
“The Patron sent word to Dad of the change in ransom, and then we waited. They would never have hurt us. It wasn’t in their nature. They were just farmers. Peaceful farmers. They would never have thought of this had it not been for me. They were happy with their lot in life, even if Dad never sent the money. It was mostly a game to them. Just to see if I was right. Hell, they got no place to spend hundreds of dollars, much less millions! Looks like they underestimated dad’s resolve. He sent you instead, and here we are.”
Tommy listened closely to everything Adam said. He regretted killing the guard. If he was as peaceful and simple as Adam suggested, he would have run in terror at the sight of Tommy in his camo paint and tiger stripes. Yet, they had to have known they were playing a dangerous game with the ‘big boys’. And when one chooses to play with the big boys, one is subject to get hurt. Seriously!
He even learned a lot about Adam Senior. For instance, he was on his fourth wife; Adam Jr’s third stepmother in ten years. He was known to abuse her on a regular basis, and to threaten her life if she attempted to leave or divorce him. He kept her confined to their mansion in Tulsa while he played ‘the man about town’ and had affairs as if it were his right. He had even been known to dip below the legal age limit from time to time, then pay off the parents to keep them and the crime quiet.
He was bi-sexual and had no qualms about using underage boys. The younger the better, as far as he was concerned, he just paid off when necessary. Money, he claimed, was his passport to freedom; freedom to do whatever he wanted to, whenever he chose to do it. He didn’t care who he hurt in the process, as long as he got what he wanted.
Adam Jr. claimed that Adam Sr. was responsible for the deaths of several children under the age of twelve. He was reputedly well-endowed in more ways than money.
All in all, according to Adam Jr., Adam Sr. was a menace to society, but had too much money to be stopped, short of being terminated for the good of humanity.
“What if he didn’t have all that money?” Tommy queried innocently.
“He would commit suicide!” Adam laughed seriously. “But, there is no chance of him going broke in this millennium! He’s invested in too many major corporations around the world.”
“If I knew a way to do it, what would you say?” Tommy asked.
“Go for it! I lost any feeling for him years ago when he began molesting me and my sister. When she died, he just laughed and blamed it on inferior genes, on his mother’s side. The fact that she died of syphilis was silenced with his money.”
“Are you saying he killed her with this disease?” Tommy asked.
“She was one of the several that died before the age of twelve that I mentioned. Luckily, when the blotching appeared in my palms, a doctor I was seeing noticed it and treated me. Otherwise I would be dead, too.”
“So your father molested you, too?”
“For years. Since I was eight years old. Still does when I’m home. That’s why I don’t go home anymore.”
“Where do you live, then?”
“I live with Marty and his wife when I’m in town. Dad sends me money, as a bribe, trying to entice me to come home. I take the money, but I don’
t go home. I have a trust fund worth several hundred millions. So, I do what I want. Mostly I ignore dad and stay away from him. He’s evil!”
“Would you like to see him ruined financially, then?”
“I’d surrender my millions to see it happen!” Adam smiled.
“You maybe wouldn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t believe it can be done, anyway.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Tommy smiled. “You may be surprised.”
“Okay,” Adam replied, and then his eyes became enormous. “Ho-ly shit!” he gasped in disbelief. “You’re that Tommy LeSade! You did all those software programs for Gates, right?”
“I did a few, yes.”
“You got rich!” he stated. “What are you doing this type of thing for? You could get killed.”
“A friend asked me to come and get you two. So I did,” Tommy smiled. “And yes, I made a little money with the programs.”
He remembered the many long, lonely hours he had spent writing and rewriting the programs until they were flawless; even before the Mistri Virus was conceived and developed into reality. His mind automatically went back to why it was conceived and developed in the first place. His resolve once again became iron clad. He would use it to the very end for the betterment of mankind.
He had written a program, as a youth, that had set the world on its ear. In fact it had nearly caused a nuclear attack of a foreign government. The poor kid that had accidentally typed in the trigger code was still in treatment and under government observation as far as Tommy knew. He only knew that the kid had disappeared never to be seen or heard from again.
Following that episode, Tommy had developed several more programs for the ‘Corporation’ after his ejection from the military. He still held the copyright on them. They paid him royalties on each and every copy like clockwork. They had wanted more and more that would do more and more. He had suggested one program that would do it all and thereby save time, space and work. They had agreed and paid him a multi-million dollar advance against future royalties. He didn’t know it at the time but they had also placed him on their payroll. He had spent nearly two years writing and perfecting the program before delivering it to them. They said they would be in touch in a week or so. They lied. So, after a month he contacted them. They didn’t know what he was talking about and dismissed the whole thing as a disgruntled ex-employee, when in fact they were using and selling his program.
It had been a clear cut case of the big guy screwing the little guy, then laughing in his face because he cried foul! The courts had sided with the big guy, and campaign contributions. He learned that his copyright was invalid because he had been an employee of the ‘Corporation’ at the time, therefore, the copyright was owned by the ‘Corporation’ and had in fact, been filed six months earlier than Tommy’s. Trouble was, as he had proven in court, why weren’t they using the perfected program prior to his filing for a copyright? They had claimed it had still been in the testing phase and they had not converted their entire system to accept the new program, yet. Plus, he had been an employee of the ‘Corporation’; therefore anything he developed was legally theirs anyway. Then they had shown forged payroll records, and that was when Tommy LeSade’s dark half came out into the light.
The jury ruled in their favor and he had had to bite the bullet. But, he had also vowed to himself that he was not going to let them get by with it, either. Thus, the Mistri Virus was conceived, developed and perfected, and the first victim to fall was, you guessed it, the Corporation, to the tune of sixty-five-billion dollars! Bankrupt over night. Their accounts drained to a zero balance and every corporate officer ran for cover like cockroaches from the light.
Indictments were issued, trials were held, convictions handed down, sentences issued, wrists cuffed, tears shed, appeals affirmed, prison doors slammed and now long prison sentences being served by those who had been kings.
After a little more refinement, the Mistri Virus was launched into the World Wide Web. The Corporation’s debt to Tommy LeSade was paid in full. Now it was time for the government to give him a belated kiss. It had raped him and taken away his purpose in life when it decided he was no longer fit for military duty. So be it.
“So, you can really make it happen?” Adam asked, bringing Tommy back to the present.
“I know someone who knows someone,” he answered, looking at the young man across from him. “If that is really what you want.”
“It is. I could die happy seeing the old man fall from his ivory tower,” he grinned fiendishly. “But, we’ll have to protect Lenore. She’ll be in extreme danger when he finds out he’s broke. He’ll kill her, then himself,” he added seriously.
“Can you handle that?” Tommy asked his eyes on Adam, then Marty.
“Yes. While he’s gone. We’ll let you know when she’s safe.”
“Fine. What do you want to do with the money?”
“Give it to charity. He hated charities. It’ll serve him right!” Adam said hatefully.
“Fine,” Tommy said, remembering the words of his father across the computer screen.
The Blackhawk sat down in Brownsville beside a shiny white corporate Lear jet with the initials (-JP-) between Pegasus wings written down the side. The side door was open and the steps down. Beside them stood a large, gray haired, distinguished looking man in his mid fifties or there about.
“Damn!” Adam Jr. cursed. “I might have known! The bastardo!” he added in Spanish.
“Must be dear ol’ dad?” Tommy asked, facetiously.
“That’s him,” Adam Jr. affirmed, as he got out and stood beside the Blackhawk and waited for Marty.
When Adam Jr. and Marty were ready, Tommy walked them to the steps of the Lear to meet the gremlin.
“Hello, boy. Good to see you again. You owe me big, now!” Adam Senior said smiling sourly at his son. “And you must be the Tommy LeSade that came so highly recommended, from on high. High everywhere and way. High politics. High priced and high praise. What about you isn’t high, LeSade?”
“My tolerance for disrespect from egotistical sons of bitches for starters,” Tommy answered.
“No disrespect intended, just stating indisputable facts. It isn’t every day I meet a Congressional Medal of Honor winner,” he smiled, extending his hand.
Tommy ignored the proffered hand. He didn’t like the idea of shaking hands with a dead man.
“So, you’ve been talking to the boy, have you? You must know by now that he is a pathetic pathological liar, if there ever was one. He doesn’t know the meaning of truth. Or how to tell it. Or when to tell it, for that matter. But, I put up with him because he’s my only son and child. And I love him despite his many faults and proclivities. This queer here, for one. They’re lovers, you know. Oh, I see. He didn’t tell you that? Humph, go figure! Well, no matter. We might as well get on home. He has a down payment to make on a hundred-and-one-million dollar debt. Ha! Ha!” he laughed, turning and walking up the steps and into the jet.
The interior of the Lear was cool, plush, baby blue. Tommy had to stop for a moment and think about that. Why not more masculine? Like tan, brown, or a combination of earth tones. This looked more feminine than masculine to him.
“Why baby blue?” Tommy asked directly.
“I find it comforting. Less stressful, if you know what I mean,” Jenkins answered with a smile.
“I suppose so,” Tommy replied, looking around the cabin, and then taking a seat on the sofa along one side of the craft.
To his right was the cockpit. Across from him was the door he had just entered. The pilot was in the process of closing and securing it. To the right of the door, Tommy’s left, was a Lazy Boy recliner, which Adam Sr. occupied. It swiveled to face the front or rear of the jet. Left of Adam Sr., about ten feet, was a long conference table with seven captain’s chairs around it. He noticed that Adam Sr.’s chair would slide forward and make the eighth. Adam Jr. and Marty occupied two of them, on opposite sid
es of the table.
At the end of the sofa Tommy sat on, to his left, was a short hallway. He assumed it led to a sleeping compartment and a bathroom.
“Bathroom’s down the hallway, on the right. If you need it,” Jenkins said, as if reading Tommy’s mind.
“Mister Jenkins, we are prepared to taxi, Sir,” a male voice said over the intercom.
“Very well, Captain. At your pleasure,” Jenkins said to the space in front of him, then looked over at Tommy. “There are speakers and microphones throughout the craft so I can communicate with the pilots at all times,” he said.
Tommy nodded his understanding, as the jet began to move across the apron and out toward the runways.
“You must donate a lot of money to charities and such,” Tommy suggested, as if to make conversation.
“Charity! Charity never gave me a damn thing. Well, with the exception of a case of the clap many years ago! I wouldn’t donate a cent to any one of the parasitic ‘good causes’! A waste of good hard cash! Let the suckers and bleeding hearts of the world take care of the needy. I have nothing for them, but this!” he said angrily, raising his middle finger and shoving it at the roof of the plane.
“Well, how about all the needy children of the world. They’re helpless. Don’t you think they may need and deserve a little help from the wealthy individuals who can afford it?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t help people out from time to time,” Jenkins defended. “Especially the children. I have a soft spot for children. I take care of several, as a matter of fact.”
‘Yeah, I’ll just bet you do,’ Tommy thought. ‘Just dig your grave a little deeper and I’ll personally put you in it myself.’
“How do you decide which ones to help and which ones to deny? It must be a hard decision,” he said.
“It is a ‘hard’ decision. Believe me,” he smiled. “But, if they strike my fancy, and are willing to do a little something for me that pleases me. I will enrich their lives beyond their wildest imaginings! Many times beyond their projected lifetime earning potential,” he added after a moment’s thought.
“What would such a ‘something’ be, for example? I ask only because I am faced with the same problem of who to help and who to deny from time to time. It’s only common sense we can’t help every single needy child of the world. So, how does one decide such an important matter?”