The Demise of a Texas King

Next to the victim was her blouse with an identification badge still attached. Printed on the badge were the words “Clear water Realty”, accompanied by her name, “Jessica.” Her agonizing death was evident from the embedded expression on Jessica’s face. This was not a typical murder, and probably not a rape or robbery. Jessica had just been taught a lesson, an unimaginable one given by one of the devil’s own. As the first helicopter landed, several men appeared from the ship’s shadows and approached it. The doors of the aircraft opened to reveal three men; all appeared to be financially affluent. As the three entered the ship, the darkness that just enveloped them was left behind for a room similar to one on the strip in Las Vegas. Each man would soon enjoy a night of gambling, drinking and women-all one could expect for a mere twenty-thousand dollar investment. The three visitors were rapidly indoctrinated into the ways of this floating Sodom and Gomorrah. Gene King was a believer and practitioner of mind manipulation. Most individuals take only three-to-four weeks to reach the point of conditioning where Gene wants them. Once there, his disposition changes. This suave and debonair man evolves into a narcissistic, manipulating and violent demon. No man or woman was an exception of Gene King’s displays of violence. Out of fear or respect, no personal dared to challenge his authority or madness. Gene King owned them all. To Detective Robert James, Mr. Henry resembled nothing of a man who purportedly tortured and killed over eighty-five people. Compared to Detective James, Mr. Henry looked somewhat meek. There was no physical intimidation, not even a word spoken, but a certain aura filled the air. Three feet from the glass, Detective James stopped. Initially, no words were spoken. The first interaction was from Mr. Henry, which consisted of a slight smile, but his eyes did most of the speaking. Without a mistake, he was the monster, the notorious serial killer, “Luke Henry.” Serial killer Luke Henry seemed bewildered and amused over what he witnessed from Detective Robert James, which was a brazen violation of the rules, again! Luke was beginning to enjoy the game in which they were now engaged. Detective James knew that he and Luke Henry had just entered into an area where good and bad or black and white, meet and blend without either party having to cross completely over the line. A professional mutual respect, one might have it. Prior interrogation techniques used by other officers on Mr. Henry had failed, but things were about to change. “Want to chat, detective?” Without a word, Detective James pulled up a chair, and a long and interesting evening was about to begin. Although, now in a completely different scenario, Detective James again encountered a fire victim. Robert heard the same pleas, but in a different tone this time. Several years ago, there was nothing he could do to help the young child, but with his two recent homicide victims, he could vindicate their deaths. The demon responsible for this had to be brought to justice. Revenge was simple and quick. With a 45 caliber pistol in hand, Gene burst into the room and killed all five of the men. Before leaving the scene, he noticed his victims had gathered to divide a large bale of marijuana. Gene made his decision. He quickly slid the pistol into his belt and carried the marijuana from the bloody, body-littered room. “Over the past years, Gene King has built an empire. Any vice, all over the world, Gene’s got it covered. “Now, how about the truth; is it too embarrassing to tell another cop that the FBI has been unsuccessfully chasing a ghost for the past eight years?” The SWAT officer later described the situation as if he were running through a burning hell after the charges exploded. With pieces of cinder and burning ceiling tile still filling the air, Officer Burns carried the two young hostages to safety through a section of the missing back wall. As they were running from the store, an eruption of gunfire ensued. The sub-machine guns once again began to sing their song of death. The investigator’s face turned pale, as Carol pushed down on the razor and forced it into her arm, making a four-inch long cut. Her arm began to bleed profusely. She had to quickly wipe blood away before it covered the interior of the wound. “Found you!” Carol rejoiced as she slid the syringe into a vein exposed by the open wound. Her face changed instantly; Carol was in her place of pleasure. “The Devil’s Pit, they call it,” Lori said as she led Robert down the stairs. Upon descending, the sixth sense that many law enforcement officers possess began to signal Investigator Robert James that something was abnormal. A dark stale air seemed to loom, and the people dancing in the Devil’s Pit were different from the ones upstairs. Pale, hollow and seemingly un-attentive to any of their surroundings, they all seemed to move just enough to signal the others that they were still alive. It did not take a dope cop to assume that all were stoned on their drug of choice. I am a chemist, not a petty street level drug pusher, Bradley thought as he handed the pills to the excited women-without a doubt, his latest batch of Formula-X was another success. The thrilled women left in a rush, hardly saying goodbye to Bradley. Little did the girls know they had just been in the presence of the mastermind of Formula-X. Now, the JDLST was faced with more than an organized crime case. Standing by and adding up the body count was something that no law enforcement agency would accept, no matter how large of a case they were working. Robert knew time on his case against Gene King was going to be limited. With multiple murders on their books and with Gene King a prime suspect, SA Michaels would demand a timetable in which to conclude the case. With a nodding of the head, the woman slowly removed her clothing and lay down on the cold, steel bed next to her. A few muffled whimpers of agony could be heard in the cool, dark building as Dr. Perez began the procedure. “And one last thing, Investigator James; no life is sacred to Gene. He will stop at nothing. I never thought I would say this to a cop, but good luck and please send that bastard back to his daddy in hell!” Robert paused a few moments before making his next move. His finger soon found the play button. Now talk to me Bradley Dean. For the next thirty minutes, Investigator Robert James sat mesmerized, while the dead spoke. As the tape began, the corpse that Robert had seen at Lake Travis came to life. Lori, my dear, Lori. Tonight will definitely be a night for you to remember. But a short memory it will be for you, my little traitor bitch! Gene closed the door as he re-entered his home. Only two hours before his dinner date. There was little time left to prepare for Lori’s last supper. While Gene verbally and physically abused the recipient, the more they begged for mercy, the more intensive the punishment became. Like a predator in the wild, begging only empowered him, therefore, resulting in an elevation of punishment. For self-preservation, Lori continued her stance of silence “We are United States Federal Agents. Stop your boat or we will use deadly force against you!” the order was once again given. The boat continued south, refusing to heed to their verbal warnings. What the voice commands could not accomplish the task, two shots from the helicopter’s sixty-two millimeter guns did. Robert and the other men then entered the room. Initially, one would have thought they were in the medical bay of a naval ship. This room had the appearance of a hospital operating room. Clean floors, surgical equipment and bright lights. What Robert saw next would make anyone stop in his or her tracks!