The Demon Pool (3 page)

The short drive down I-75, between Ft. Myers and
Naples, did not diminish the appearance of Jim’s uniform. He spent an entire
hour doing the whole spit-and-polish routine before leaving for tonight’s
special duty assignment. His Florida Highway Patrol black dress jacket added an
air of formality that reminded Jim of his Marine Corps Dress Blues.

It didn’t seem to matter what uniform he wore.
When Jim showed up in a dress uniform, heads turned. He kind of liked it,
although it sometimes left Linda pissed when the attention came from the wrong
women. The younger, pretty ones.

He pulled his Charger into the Colony House Hotel
and Country Club’s parking lot. Luxury vehicles and the odd limousine packed
the main parking area. He drove slow, guided by lot attendants in bright safety
vests holding flags. They guided the Charger past the backed up valet and main
parking area to a remote section, farthest from the main entrance, reserved for
state and local government vehicles. Even the remote lot looked packed.

As he drove, Jim watched Florida’s high-tech
glitterati arrive for their version of the Oscars. Every important state and
local politician and business leader would be here tonight. Jim had scored a
small share of the new prosperity, assigned to supplement the executive
security detail for the governor and his staff.

The Florida Department of Law Enforcement,
responsible for the governor’s security, had found themselves shorthanded
again. Many Florida cops, both local and state, pulled double duty as military
reservists, spending days, weeks, and sometimes months away. When you added
vacations and sick leave, things could get thin, even around the governor. With
his relationship with Linda unraveling, Jim welcomed the distraction of work
and the extra pay. As long as no one showed up to screw it up. As a model,
Linda sometimes ran with the high-end crowd.
Crap, I hope she’s not here
tonight.

He parked, grabbed his hat, and stepped out of
the Charger. His knee barked at him again. He locked the car and made his way
toward the front of the hotel, walking past the expensive automobiles of the
nouveau technorati. The evidence of Florida’s technology boom spread itself all
over the Colony House parking lot tonight, as well as on Florida’s highways
where the Acuras, Lexuses, and BMWs of young, high-tech executives were slowly
outnumbering the Cadillacs and Buicks of the retirees.

Ignoring the ache in his knee, Jim continued
toward the hotel’s main entrance, dodging incoming vehicles and weaving past
small throngs of well-heeled guests. He did not envy the men in three-piece
suits and tuxedos this evening. Just the walk through the parking lot had him
sweating, threatening to melt his uniform’s sharp creases. Wearing the black
dress jacket was the price he’d paid for tonight’s overtime.

Jim paused and pulled a handkerchief from his
back pocket. He blotted the sweat from his face. He stood still for a moment,
looking at the Colony House’s new tower. It loomed behind the original
building. He admired the modern structure’s gleaming, retro design. It looked
old and new at the same time. His mind wondered for a moment as he made a
mental comparison between the Colony House and the tiny house outside of Ft.
Myers he and Linda had bought together.
No comparison really.

“We should have a house of our own,” she had
said. So he made a leap of faith.
So much for faith
.

He put the handkerchief back in his pocket and
stepped up the pace, wanting to get inside before his uniform wilted completely
and left him looking like Joe Shit, the Rag Man. The FHP uniform was not Marine
Corps Dress Blues, but it looked damn good anyway.

He had almost reached the portico when he saw a
silver Corvette pull up. He recognized the car. Apparently, so did many others.
In just seconds, the crowd around the entrance doubled in size. Jefferson
Briggs had arrived.
Let the party begin
.

***

Briggs pulled his Corvette into the portico of The
Colony House Hotel and Country Club in Naples. The Colony House had a storied
reputation as one of Southwest Florida’s most exclusive properties. Briggs knew
that it had been the temporary home of Thomas Edison while he built his winter
residence in Ft. Myers. It seemed appropriate that he would receive his
Technology Entrepreneur of the Year award in the same room in which Edison used
to dine.

Briggs had had an amazing run of success, and he
intended to enjoy it. Part of that enjoyment sat next to him in the Corvette.
Her name was Kimberly. A classic, auburn-haired beauty with legs that never
seemed to end. Briggs had met her in Miami after he had judged the Miss Hot
Florida Sun contest. She was not as smart as the other contestants, but so
what? Kimberly was arm candy deluxe.

Tonight she wore a black and silver sequined
dress, cut above mid-thigh on one side and off the shoulder on the other, with
a pair of strappy high heels. Briggs was almost jealous that nearly everyone
would be looking at Kimberly. At least until his speech. Well, it was a small
price to pay to be the “most admired man in Florida.” That was what the
Wall
Street Journal
had called him, and he intended to live up to that
appellation.

He let the Corvette creep up to the entrance of
The Colony House. As soon as he put the car in park and unlocked the doors,
attendants opened them. Even in the shade of the portico, it was still hot.
Briggs stepped out and took a valet ticket from the attendant. Kimberly exited
the car and waited near the hotel’s entrance. A detachment of journalists
swarmed past her and surrounded Briggs, cameras flashing.

“Mr. Briggs, is it true that the governor has
asked you to chair the Florida Technology Council?”

“How do you feel about the conservative backlash
on embryonic stem cell research?”

“Is it true that you plan to take Advanced
Genetic Technologies public?”

Briggs held up one hand and moved to squeeze past
the group. The pack had pinned him against his car and he did not like it. A
familiar voice boomed over the noise of the crowd. “Let’s go, people. That’s
enough. Let Mr. Briggs through.

***

Jim had watched as Briggs struggled to get past the
human fur-ball of reporters and lookie-loos that surrounded the Corvette.
Where
the hell is his big bucks security
?

Jim forced his way through the mass of onlookers
and reporters, using both his body and his voice. Reaching Briggs, Jim turned
toward the reporters. His voice boomed again.

“Please move away from the vehicle, people.”

Jim used his body as a shield against the human
wall, forcing it back until Briggs had room to squeeze past and escape into the
hotel. Jim followed him through the entrance. Two thick-chested men in hotel
blazers rushed past him and out to the portico.
About time, boys.

Jim looked around the hotel lobby as Briggs
walked away, his hand on the middle of a woman’s back, guiding her past gawking
onlookers.

The lobby itself, despite its grand size,
displayed an Old World charm that must have impressed visitors from the North
over a hundred years ago. It impressed Jim today. The cream of Florida’s
business and political communities packed the reception area. Jim glanced at
his watch. He needed to get checked in to avoid being late.

The entrance to the hotel’s security office sat
next to the main reception desk. Jim made his way past the regular guests, some
still in beachwear, and past the beautiful people in their tuxedos and gowns. A
small table stood beside the security office, manned by a plainclothes officer.
A computer generated sign taped to the wall said “Security Check in.” The “i”
in “in” was lowercased and the hyphen missing between the words “Check in.” It
looked cheesy. Jim gave his name. The officer flipped through pages on a
clipboard and stopped on the third page.

“Ok, Trooper Demore. You’re assigned to the
Edison Ballroom. Go past the main desk and follow the hallway around to the
left.”

“Thanks,” Jim replied. He looked at the sign
again and wondered how often such small errors led to big consequences.
Probably
more often than we know
.

He walked past the hotel’s main registration desk
where a well-dressed, very lovely, front desk agent caught his eye. She smiled
at him. The kind of innocent, flirty smile that drove Linda mad when it
happened in front of her. Since he and Linda were no longer an item, he pushed
the little tinge of guilt aside and smiled back. The woman, still beaming,
quickly went back to whatever she had been doing. Jim never asked for that kind
of attention, especially when he was with Linda.

“Like she can’t see you’re with me,” Linda would
say.

Usually, the incidents never went any further,
but occasionally, what Jim called her “crazy eyes” came out. Jim looked down at
the floor, shook his head and smiled a sad smile. The crazy eyes always meant
trouble.

A small crowd gathered outside the Edison
Ballroom. Jefferson Briggs stood next to the redhead. They formed a small
circle with the governor and his wife. Jim tried to slip by, looking for the
special agent in charge of the ballroom’s security, when Briggs called out to
him.

“Trooper Demore.”

Trapped. Crap.

“Hey, thanks for your help back there,” Briggs
said.

He pushed his hand toward Jim. Jim forced a smile
and shook hands with Briggs.

“No problem, sir. Looked like hotel security
dropped the ball. I thought you had your own guys?”

“Didn’t expect to need them tonight. I knew the
gov’s people would be here,” Briggs replied. Jim saw the governor wince at
being called “the gov.”

Briggs continued. “One of the advantages of
working for me, though, is you get to spend most of your evenings home with
your family.”

Jim glanced away from Briggs and noticed the
redhead staring at them.

Briggs continued, “The hotel crew is about a
half-step above rent-a-cops. I’ll talk to their boss later. I want you to meet
someone.”

“Mr. Briggs, I really need to get checked in
first,” Jim said.

“You’ve got all night for that. Come on.” Briggs
turned toward his little group. Jim, with less enthusiasm, stayed with him.

“Governor, this is the trooper I told you about.
Wrote me two tickets, refused to cut me any slack, and tonight saved me from a
pack of press vultures.”

The governor extended his hand. Jim was not
intimidated, but his face warmed a bit and he shifted uncomfortably as he shook
the governor’s hand.

“Trooper Jim Demore, sir.”

“Glad to meet you, Trooper Demore. This is my
wife, Anne.”

The governor’s wife extended her hand. She looked
to be in her mid- to late forties and holding up rather well. Jim shook her
hand.

“Ma’am.”

Jim’s smile was genuine. After a second, Kimberly
cleared her throat. All eyes, including Jim’s, went to the redhead.

“Hi, I’m Kimberly.”

As their eyes met, an unexpected jolt of
excitement, like an electrical shock, went through Jim.
Damn
.

Even when he’d met Linda, he hadn’t felt that
kind of spark. He found himself captivated by Kimberly’s smile and her soft,
grey eyes. He’d never felt this much instant attraction before. For a moment,
it was as if the room had emptied of everyone but him and Kimberly.

He became aware that Kimberly had extended her
hand. For a second, he stood there like an idiot. When he finally took it, he
found a feminine, yet surprisingly strong grip. Velvet flesh pressed against
the skin of Jim’s hand. Her grey eyes sparkled and teased, and maybe even
promised?

Jim heard Briggs speaking to him. He dropped
Kimberly’s hand and managed another one-word greeting.

“Evening.” He barely recognized his own voice.

“Well, Trooper Demore. Have you given any more
thought to my offer?” Briggs asked. “Anything I can add to it?”

Jim looked at Briggs. “No, sir,” he said. “I’m
happy where I’m at.”

“Maybe I should have Kimberly try to convince
you?” Briggs taunted him.

Jim wondered. Had Briggs noticed the spark?

“Jeff,” the governor chimed in, “I’m sure
Kimberly can be very persuasive, but the State of Florida spends a lot of money
recruiting and training these boys. If you need more security, put an ad in
Soldier
of Fortune
. Let’s go find our seats and let Trooper Demore get back to his
duties.”

Jim sighed and nodded slightly at the governor.
The governor extended his hand to Jim.

“Nice to meet you Trooper Demore.”

They shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Jim nodded toward the
governor’s wife and Kimberly. “Ladies.”

The governor’s wife smiled. Jim looked at
Kimberly and found himself recaptured by her entrancing, grey eyes. Her voice
was soft and naturally sensual.

“Nice to meet you, Jim.”

The governor’s wife took Kimberly’s arm and
steered her into the Edison ballroom. The governor walked with them, stopping
here and there to greet someone. Jim watched the two women walk away until he
felt a hand on his arm. Briggs stood next to him.

“You know, Demore, the public doesn’t give a
rat’s ass that you’re out there protecting them.”

Jim watched technology’s upper-crust make their way
into the ballroom. They talked and laughed among themselves. A few bothered to
glance in his direction. To most of them, he was probably invisible, at least
until he chased them down the freeway. But Jim knew people would be alive
tomorrow because of cops like himself.

“I didn’t consult an opinion poll before I took
this job, Mr. Briggs.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t. It’s just a damn shame
to see you waste your time working for people who would throw you under a bus
if it meant saving a hundred bucks on a speeding ticket. Think about it
Demore.”