Session 07 – Marcus Black

Jimmy had parked the car, the faint sound of the engine could be heard only at the entrance of the house we were now occupying as it rumbled to a stop, it was our way of telling if it was too close to have the engine running to the property next door without being noticed.

Midnight had come upon us, Ron, Carter and myself all crouched under the hedges we had previously sighted as a good vantage point the days previous.

When all was quiet, Ron moved stealthily across the grounds, for his age, he moved silently and fluently, like he was born to do this sort of work.

Carter and I watched him move along the walls of the house, covering the rear closest wall before moving along the back entrance, past the kitchen and around the corner on the far side of the house.

As Ron vanished from view, some activity startled us from the coach house, a lone Mexican began moving to the rear kitchen entrance of the house.  The door opens to reveal numerous Mexicans inside, the man from the coach house entered, the door ajar as he began conversing with those within.

Ron appeared again beyond the door, making his way back to us, Carter didn’t miss a beat, clicking his flashlight twice to signal for Ron to hold.  He did so, withdrawing back around the corner of the house.

After a few minutes, the Mexican returned to the coach house, once inside, Ron revealed himself to us again and steadily made his way back to us.

Once back in our house of safety, Ron explained to us of the guards posted in the kitchen, it is never empty, the rest of the downstairs area was dark, no activity at all.  It was clear in Ron’s assessment that there was a system of rotation in place, something we would need to exploit in order to gain access.

After Ron’s explanation we settled for the night, tomorrow was going to be the day.

24^th November 1934,

Carter and I drove to our hotel, Carter informed me that we were going to meet a contact of his that he had established during our previous visit.  Trent Higgins, the original investigating officer of the farm crime scene in 1924.

Upon meeting Trent at about 5pm, I thought him a tired old man, he had retired from the police force, yet he had a strange drive in his eyes, like he was here to finish what he could not do some ten years ago.

We went over our plan with him, he seemed less than impressed with our lack of understanding of what actually goes on in the house.  His defining statement was that once we were inside, we should decide where to go.  Carter and I both had no better option, so we agreed quicker than I thought we would have based on an outsider’s opinion.

We headed back to our neighbouring house at about 11pm.  Trent was introduced to Ron and Jimmy, both of them nervous as they could both tell straight away that they were in the presence of a police officer.

Once everyone was settled, we began making preparations, Carter began dressing himself in what I can only describe as a suit identical to what he normally wore, only darker without a neck tie.  He tucked his revolver into his pants and donned a skull cap.  He loaded his shotgun and carried it on his shoulder, he was clearly happy to be armed based on his previous experiences in Los Angeles. Trent however was very different, he did not change or make any attempt to conceal himself, all he did was sling a shoulder across his back, a semi-automatic pistol hanging under each arm, stuffing extra magazines into his pockets wherever they would fit.  I began my usual preparations, I prayed for a few moments before dressing myself in my old surplus gear, a few updates to my shirt and shoes however.  I holstered my Webley under my arm, on my other side, I had affixed a leather strap to my cut down shotgun, slinging it under my arm and donning my surplus coat, nothing could be seen to anyone looking inquisitively.  Ron was dressed as he had been employed, all in black, a smudge of shadow against a dark back drop.  He carried with him two large duffle bags, as we knew we would be bringing things out of the house.

It was midnight, Trent, Ron, Frank, Carter and I made our way through the hedges to observe to house.  It was the same as ever, the rotating guards leaving us with a window of opportunity to move on the house, if all went to plan, the current sentry would be tired and ready for a shift change around 2am, that was when we move.

The plan was in order, 2am came to pass and we emerged onto the grounds of Samson Trammell’s property.  We all made haste to the observatory wall, Ron was on duty to pick the locks, within a few moments we were inside the large glass cage, Carter and I had our shotguns trained, ready to assault anything that stood before us, the sweat of our nerves visibly flowing down our faces.

The inner door, a large and heavy mahogany slab proved much harder, Ron got to work on it, however it was almost five minutes of painful waiting before we were able to make entry.  Once inside, we were consumed by pitch blackness.  Clicking on his flash light, Carter lit the room, we were in the Library.  I immediately set to work looking for the books that might contain the secrets of Echiavarria and Trammell.  Frank and Trent took position by another door, the entry to the main foyer.

Carter disappeared into a smaller study off the library as I continued my search.  Within moments he called to me, he had discovered a list of books from the Echiavarria estate and there they were, piled neatly.  Without a moment to lose we dumped them into the bags Ron had brought with him, I removed my coat and made a makeshift sack for the books also, once we had them all, Carter decided that Ron had done his job, he had gotten us in, we sent him back to Jimmy under the instructions to load the bags of books into the car as soon as he could.  Without a work Ron departed.

Scanning the room once more, we saw a large painting covering an entire wall, it was labelled “The Gazers Perspective”.

I looked at it only briefly before Frank and Trent took my attention, they had begun opening the inner door.

The foyer was large, marble and vast, large open spaces and tall glass windows proved massive shadows that spanned the room.  Frank was the first to enter, his pistol trained on the only light source, the kitchen, some low voiced could be heard from within.  Frank moved to a small door close to us, opening it he found it to be a closet, another door beneath the massive staircase going up, a bathroom, it was there that Frank held his position, partially concealed within, his pistol never leaving the kitchen.  Carter, Trent and I made our way across the marble floor to the far side of the domed centre of the room, another door identical to the one Frank had taken position in revealed steps going down.  Carter and I both heard the faint sounds life emanating from within, we called Frank over to us, he explained that he would hold position in the dining room to cover us from the guards in the kitchen should their action be called upon.

Trent, Carter and I all began our decent, the glow of yellow faint lights lined the stone wall the spiralled down below the house.  At the bottom of the stairs, the floor turned to freshly laid tiles, everything was white, bathed in brighter light.  A small record player was the sound we could hear from upstairs, the enigmatic music sending shivers up the spines of the three of us, it echoed in our heads with horrid imagery of the perverse nature of what we could only imagine was the reason that all of the high society people had been flocking to this house.

A door to our right was our next position, entering first, my shotgun raised, the room was littered with clothing, coats, suits, dresses, shoes, under garments.  Yet there was no one to be seen.  At the far end of the room, another door, Carter and Trent moved in file behind me as I slowly advance towards it.  Opening it slightly, it was completely dark, Carter moved in first, his flashlight the only thing giving us any perspective of what we were walking into.  A narrow room, completely bare, on the far side, a single door, a glow of orange coming through the seams around its frame, the sounds of people also seeping into the room.

Carter advanced, he opened the door only to find it stop a few inches open.  It was obstructed by something soft.  Taking a glimpse inside, all I could see was flesh, I withdrew my gaze momentarily, Carter also saw it.  At that he threw his shoulder into the door, the obstruction, a pair of people engaged in some form of perverse sexual act.

The door flung open to reveal a sea of debauchery.  There must have been fifty of more people all writhing together in horrid acts of an unspeakable nature.  Carter and I stepped in, Trent refused and remained partially inside the small room that we had traversed.  Within a few footsteps, various limbs and faces began assaulting our bodies in a lustful fashion, kicking the people from our path Carter and I both froze as we turned to see Samson Trammell.

He stood against a wall, at least it used to be a wall, naked and proud, numerous women and men performing sexual acts upon him, his backdrop, the wall, a massive and gaping mouth of teeth and what I can only describe as tentacles.  Carter’s eyes grey wide, as did mine.

The sight, hidden from Trent, yet to us, it was as real as the air we breathe.  As if on impulse, Carter raised his shotgun, letting loose a mighty blast that struck Trammell in the chest, sending him backwards and falling into the mouth that resided behind him.  At the disturbance, the mob of naked people panicked, all moving sharply, the tentacles became aware of us, rising from their concealed positions under the masses.

I grabbed Carter by the shoulder, his eyes still fixed on the mouth, I shoved him back towards the door Trent was occupying.  Trent grabbed him as I yelled at them to run, I spun on my heal, my shotgun held firmly in my left hand, I raised it at the oncoming tentacle and pulled the trigger.  I do not know if I hit my target, I was already in pursuit of Carter and Trent who were already to the stairs.

At the base of the stairs, more gunfire could be heard from upstairs, Carter was still breathing heavily as he came to terms with what he had just witnessed.  I mentioned Frank’s name as the gunfire upstairs raged.  Carter regained his poise as best he could as Trent had already begun moving fast up the stairs.  I followed with Carter in tow, gripping his shoulder again.  Trent burst through the door as he drew both his pistols and began firing madly at the Mexicans who had forced Frank to take cover.  I moved as fast as I could with Carter to the library, Trent’s fury of fire enough to buy us time to cross the foyer unscathed.

We traversed the gardens and I threw carter down in the hedges, spinning with my shotgun raised in case we were being pursued.

The gunfire from the house continued for a few moments before it all went quiet.  Frank and Trent emerged, both reloading their pistols as they moved to us.  Once reunited, satisfied that no one was injured, we madly ran to the car, throwing ourselves inside and instructing Jimmy to go straight to the plane.

The drive was a blur, Carter was obviously shaken, his mind racing and his body trembling.  Trent, unaware of the scene that we had witnessed demanded to know what had happened.  I informed him of Trammell’s death at the hands of Carter, this was enough to make him smile.

We said our fairwell and offered our gratitude to Trent, he refused to come with us to New York, I handed him a roll of money, I have no idea how much it was, I was just happy he was with us.  For an older gentleman, his grace under pressure reminded me of my days in France along the front lines.

Frank fired up the engine as we all entered, Carter, of course couldn’t wait to start drinking, not assisting us with the books that had been dumped in the trunk.  Once loaded, I entered the plane to find Carter, his head in his left hand, in the other, a half drunk bottle of whiskey, a bottle I know had been full last time I saw it.