The Everglades - Chapter Six

6

December 14, 1947. Marty Markham considered himself elite. He strolled arrogantly about Miami; floating on a cloud fabricated upon Ivy-League-based self importance. Participating in secret societies while in college introduced the man to those possessing tyrannically-based, arrogant views of humanity. Not until compromising himself, participating in acts deserving swift retribution in mid-century Miami, did he flourish financially. There was a dark underbelly thriving in Miami’s society.

The arrival of Hochstühl and Von Unterscheisse supported the spread of psychoses.

Markham was the manager of Burdine’s flagship location in downtown Miami. It was a good position within the community; but never fulfilled overinflated ego. The man’s soul had been relegated so deeply within his being, conscience was incapable of voicing reason. Actions meant to satiate perceived dominion over weaker beings proceeded unchecked. He’d successfully muted his inner-voice; that which was meant to reflect God’s love for all creation.

Rugged men and women of the day ensured immediate responses to pernicious encounters with children. Those possessing nubile flesh offered tactilely explosive pleasures without threat of questioned abilities.

Experienced women were at least instructional; at worst critical.

Children hadn’t the words to describe experiences with the man; much less the discernment to question actions. Those physically incapable of overcoming unwanted perversions of purity provided most-desired experiences.

There was but a single classification for men who spurned God's love; fallen angels. Arrogantly omnipotent, these men viewed destruction as creation. Paedophilia was the only manner in which they were afforded complete control; sans retribution.

God's universe embraced growth and creativity.

Men like Markham struck at God's most pure manifestation; children.

The department store manager was in his mid-thirties; a confirmed bachelor. Most in town considered him homosexual. Suppositions based in lifestyle provided a natural energetic halo few breached. Isolation protected the man from discovery of paedophilic ways. Only those seeking advancement within society, of which Markham possessed sway, sought the man outside of retail obligations.

Harold Niall Northrup was just such a man.

Harry’s family immigrated from England when he was four years old. He’d lost whatever accent instilled as a toddler; but speech remained refined. It was a quality that induced deference from those encountered daily.

Generations of fishing families occupied an area still considered wilderness in 1947. Expertise providing for the community did not extend to diction. Vocabularies were only adequate for completing daily tasks.

Men like Markham and Northrup applied refinement dogmatically.

The immigrant’s mother was domineering. She’d passed intense narcissism to her son; both genetically and through learned behavior. Harry was allowed to think himself elite; hailing from a country that celebrated landed-gentry. The Northrups were cut from the same cloth as British families who’d invaded America; building massive slave-plantations.

Northrup possessed the psychosis of arrogance.

Being male offered Harry not the opportunity to express omniscience among those with whom he associated. Kept in check by alpha-males naturally caused a drift toward weaker men; those possessing similar unconventional creeds.

Hidden from society, the boy left Miami for the University of Florida. It was there young men gathered for the sole purpose of becoming educated.

1920s Gainesville was a town containing nothing more than the university itself. An all male student body left those possessing youthful and burgeoning sexual desires without adequate outlet. A large portion of the student-body found comfort among brethren. Young men without conscience regularly satisfied one another’s most basic desires. That which was viewed as harmless, instilled perversions brushed aside as nothing more than dalliances.

Repressed memories of his time at university muted actions; yet still possessed the potential for intergenerational destruction of his own family. The narcissist viewed children not as independent gifts from God; but mere extensions of a conceit-fully conceived reality; supporting psychosis of grandeur.

Harry strolled the length of Biscayne Bay Yacht Club’s main dock. The pier extended three hundred feet into the bay.

Holding her father’s hand was his seven-year-old daughter, Victoria. The little girl was the third of Harry’s children and had been named for the nineteenth century English queen.

The little girl skipped happily across wooden planks comprising the deck’s surface. She grazed her hand across every piling that extended above the pier.

Curiously, she glanced toward open boat-decks.

Vessels undulated rhythmically with tidal influences.

Occasionally, the little girl encountered a fisherman cleaning his day’s catch. Heads severed from bodies created mixtures of scraped scales, mucus, and blood. Contemplating deaths of innocent animals affected Victoria’s senses.

Enthusiasm for a day on their friend's boat became muted.

Marty Markham’s vessel was a 1947 Consolidated Motor Yacht; forty-five feet in length. Its sleek white hull gave way to a beautiful teak cabin that extended above deck.

The first thing Victoria noticed was the boat’s white ring flotation device. Familiarity captured her attention. Gracing the upper arch of the life-saver was her name, VICTORIA. It made her smile. She then spied the lower ring, NORTHRUP.

Pride swelled within the little girl’s psyche. The seven-year-old realized something so substantial, so beautiful, possessed her name.

Feelings of grandeur exacerbated when the little girl and her father stood upon the pier; directly behind the moored boat. Emblazoned even larger across the stern was her name. In that moment, life once again became glorious; filled with outsized possibilities.

Harry reached down and pushed open the small section of stern that opened a doorway. The man held his daughter’s hand as they crossed the gap from quay to quest.

Embarkment was sanctioned by her father.

Control over the girl’s life was subjugated to Marty Markham.

The boat owner emerged from the salon when he saw guests arrive. Happily, gladly, he scurried toward the rear deck. Markham greeted the man he’d known for mere months. “You didn’t have any trouble finding the slip, did you?”

“Not at all.”

Victoria slumped, compressing her spine as she demurred her profile; hoping to go unnoticed. There was something in the man’s energy. He seemed overly eager to see a seven-year-old girl. Never had anyone so gregariously acknowledged her presence. Interactions with adults bordered upon dogmatic. Parents instilled rudimentary life-skills. Discipline was strictly enforced. All the girl knew was to obey.

Victoria was rendered incapable of emotional maturation beyond that day. She’d spend her life longing for the simplicity of an innocent seven-year-old.

Markham squatted in front of Victoria; seeking interaction at eye-level. “Have you ever been on a boat this big before?”

Victoria shook her head silently.

“You realize I named this boat after you.”

The girl was incapable of responding.

“It’s brand new. Just like our relationship.”

Victoria couldn’t bring herself to smile. Terror wracked her immature soul.

Marty stood, glanced at Harry, and then down again at Victoria. “We are going to have so much fun together on this boat.”

Scoldingly, the father jerked gently on his daughter’s hand and commanded, “you should thank Mr. Markham for being so kind to you.”

A barely audible whisper drifted from the girl’s mouth. “Thank you.”

Brashly, the father said, “I’m going to do some errands. I’ll be back in a few hours to pick you up, Victoria.” He jerked her hand again. “And God, please don’t embarrass me in front of Mr. Markham. He’s gone to a lot of trouble; and it’s all for you.”

Harry turned away from the two; stepped back through the gap in the transom; and onto the dock.

Victoria lunged toward the only safety she’d known; that provided by her father. 

The man pushed his daughter back onto the deck and closed the stern door.

Fear gripped the girl mightily. She was rendered incapable of uttering a sound. Tears streamed down both cheeks. She had no idea why she was there; or what was expected of her.

Harry Northrup quickened his pace; propelling himself from the scene; out of ear-shot of Victoria’s whimpers.

Speed wasn’t dictated by regret; he simply couldn’t be bothered by a crying child. He was too self-important.

The first hundred feet of the father’s journey dissipated resonant weakness.

Fathers were meant to protect offspring.

Suddenly, Harry noticed two men sitting in fishing chairs; both mounted to the boat’s deck. He glanced down at the vessel’s name; ADI.

All three exchanged smiles and nods.

When Harry moved beyond the craft containing the two men, he heard his name being called.

“Mr. Northrup.”

The father stopped, turned, and faced the men. He purposely held his head down. The vision of Markham’s boat wasn’t allowed to invade his periphery. “Yes?”

“Do you have a moment to speak with us?”

Harry stepped hesitantly toward the boat’s stern. “What about?”

The senior of the two smiled. “Life.”

“My father gave me the details,” the morally bankrupt father snarked.

“Yes, but Harold Niall Northrup, Senior didn’t instill in you all that can be achieved in life.” The man held out his hands openly. The stranger offered no malice toward the negligent father. “All I’d like, is to offer the opportunity for you to tap into those magnificent bloodlines…to achieve that which is rightfully yours.” The man knew the correct approach when plying a narcissist.

Sweeter words could not have been spoken to the extreme egoist. Harry stepped willingly from the dock, onto the top of the transom, and then down onto the deck.

The older of the two boaters extended his hand. “My name is Hochstühl.”

The father shook the man’s hand. “Harry Northrup. But you know that already.”

Ignoring the guest’s wit, the General held out his hand toward his mate. “This is my friend, Von Unterscheisse.”

The Colonel leaned toward the father without standing.

“Hello,” Harry responded as the two shook hands.

The underling dropped his head briefly in acknowledgement, pursed his lips, and responded, “hello.”

The General offered the father his seat in the fishing chair.

Harry politely refused. “I’ll sit back here,” he responded; moving toward the stern.

There he sat atop its edge.

The General re-took his seat.

All three men glanced between one other; maintaining pleasant yet skeptical countenances.

The General began. “Let me say that we’ve known Marty Markham for nearly two years now.”

Harry nodded.

“I mentioned your father earlier.” He paused briefly. “You see, we know of your father’s troubles in England that propelled your family to Montreal…and eventually to Miami.”

“What troubles?”

The former German officers glanced at one another and smiled.

Hochstühl continued. “Well, the least of which was his conviction for defrauding Lloyd’s Bank in January, 1901. He was sentenced to twelve months of hard labor. Your father had two co-conspirators, and they received ten months. You see, your father was the leader…had leadership skills.” The General sat back in his chair and steepled the tips of his fingers together. “You see, we hope that you’ll display those same leadership skills.”

“So what? One crime doesn’t define a man…or his son.”

“Ah, but it is so much more than one crime; or the types of crime. That singular theft wasn’t enough to propel him away from his homeland. Being a raging paedophile was why he left; just ahead of pitchforks and a public hanging. You sir, are obviously cut from the same cloth.”

“I’ve never harmed my daughter.”

“But you just delivered her to a man who is harming her as we speak.” The General held his palms out, flatly toward Harry. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The father became angry. “No. He’s just sitting with her while I attend to some business.”

Hochstühl communicated a greater knowledge of circumstances with an oversized and condescending grin. “Mr. Markham approached you with his request for your daughter on our instruction. You see, we control most of Miami. There is nothing that happens here we aren’t aware of; especially for those who possess a criminal bent.”

The father remained silent.

“We know your family history, as well as that of your wife.” “Which is?”

“As we’ve discussed your father's felonious ways; your wife’s family extracts from others employing overtly sexual persuasions. There are several paedophiles that make up her family tree, as well. All of the lives in your family are rooted in most basic tenant of human existence. She’s the progeny of a Mayflower family, sent over by royals to spread paedophilic ways throughout the colonies. They began in Maryland and moved into Virginia; bracketing the DC area. Our nation’s capital boasts the greatest number of sexual deviants on the planet. And they finally moved into Florida; which is why we’re here also.” He paused; offering Harry a moment to respond. When he didn’t, the General continued. “It was your wife who gave you permission to bring little Victoria here today; wasn’t it?”

The father and husband nodded.

“You see, the two of you work in concert; perfect mates. You’re thirty-eight years old now. I realize that memories fade reality. But just think back to when you and your wife met.”

Harry nodded.

“Your first child was born when your wife was fourteen years old. She’s been controlling you ever since.” He added more details. It was important to communicate just how intimately the General knew the father’s family. “Victoria’s your third of four children. Your oldest son, although only fifteen years old, has shown some great promise as it relates to our kind. He was accused of raping a girl in the school bathroom last year. And you were able to suppress it via financial manipulation. That’s exactly how we operate. We can take your natural abilities and lift them to a level you alone are incapable of achieving.”

“But how?”

“Through politics. You see, it’s impossible for the Colonel or myself to get involved politically. Let’s say our pasts are a little too fresh…and horrific, by some standards. You however, have the background to succeed not only locally, but within the state of Florida, or even nationally. But…you must play the game well; and to our objective.”

Victoria’s father became uncomfortable having family secrets known by perfect strangers. He attempted to deflect reality through a lie. He shook his head. “None of that is true about my family.”

“Look, Mr. Northrup. Let’s cut to the quick. We know most every indiscretion your father committed, as well as that of yourself.”

“But how?”

“Churches, mostly. Those institutions are more about gathering information on all parishioners than they are about offering sanctuary. That’s merely the sales pitch.” The General motioned between him and Harry. “There’re so few of us; deservedly so. It’s imperative we protect our small numbers, and violently so; when necessary. All institutions were constructed to control humanity.”

The Colonel took the opportunity to add an especially heinous act from Northrup’s childhood as additional proof what General Hochstühl purported was fact. “We know of your canoe trip as a young Boy Scout into the Everglades. The one that ended in your friend’s death.”

“That was an accident.”

The Colonel smiled and offered a muted burst of derisive laughter. “The official story…the one you told…was that the boy handed you his gun, by its barrel, to shoot at an alligator. You grabbed its trigger by accident and shot the boy dead.”

“That’s exactly what happened.”

The Colonel shook his head. “No it’s not. In the isolation of wilderness you made homosexual advances toward him. He not only refused, but laughed at you; hysterically. You became angry, picked up his gun, and shot him dead.” He paused. “You see, lies are how we advance our narrative, but the truth is always out there. It can never be quashed; only hidden. You have exactly the psychology of the kind of men we need to advance our agenda.” The underling grinned impishly. “Priestly confessions possess Earthly value.”

“Why me?”

“Due to your family history, and the fact that we are also aware of your taste for the flesh of children. You are one of us.”

Harry protested with a muted shake of his head.

“Relax. These feelings are quite natural for those of us meant to rule. You see, there are so few of us.” He paused. “We don’t wish to threaten you. We want to celebrate you; to lift you into society’s consciousness. As we do that, we few…we elite…will take our rightful place as controllers of Earth.”

“You want to elevate me to some false idol status?”

“More like true idolatry.”

“How am I supposed to accomplish that?”

“We want you to build an ecumenical church. You will be celebrated for your accomplishment, and it will become the foundation from which your greater existence will launch.”

“But won’t that defeat your purpose by bringing more souls to God?”

Hochstühl and Von Unterscheisse shared a giggle.

The Colonel interjected. “What you need to understand is that all institutions will come under our control, and they will be all about control. You have the opportunity to get in on the ground floor.”

The General continued; focusing on Northrup’s singular identity. “This church will not resemble those of the Renaissance. It will not be ethereally inspiring. It will speak to nothing but a physical existence. It will have an altar, but it won’t be the God who leaves his children to fend for themselves on this planet that will be worshiped.” Hochstühl pointed toward Harry. “In that little section of the world, it will be you who is being worshiped. There are many of like-mind all over the world. Once we gain control, and coalesce, that’s when our true destiny will be on display for all to bow-down.”

Harry Northrup’s psychopathy resonated more intensely than he’d ever experienced. He knew he was deserving of everything offered; and more. Conscience was absent the narcissist who considered nothing beyond inflated self-image.

Victoria had long been pushed from the father’s awareness. Never once did he think of what was happening to his daughter a hundred feet away. Actualization of potentially lofty societal stature brought into balance the conceit with which he approached life. Celestial grandeur coupled with personal wealth, offered by the Germans, spawned divinity within Harry’s self-conception. He instantly became a religion unto himself; a deity possessing dominion over all he encountered. For the first time in his life, communicated objectives assuaged seemingly outsized and unattainable desires. Nothing resembled an impossibility any longer.

Harry Northrup left the dock after agreeing to the German’s terms; without considering Victoria a single time.

He sat in his office during that time, considering not business, but of whom he knew who possessed similar psychologies of malevolence.

Just as Hochstühl and Von Unterscheisse recruited him, so must he recruit others. It was a burgeoning apparatus requiring new flesh and blood for growth. Their agenda must be sustained across generations.

Hours passed.

As if a menial task, the father hurried back to the Biscayne Bay Marina to pick up his daughter from her afternoon with Marty Markham.

Harry Northrup sat in a chair on the deck, waiting for his business associate to deliver his daughter from the salon.

He spied Markham through the glass.

The men exchanged satisfied smiles.

Victoria was too small to be clearly seen below the window’s frame.

When the little girl emerged through the opened salon door, the father smiled at her.

There was no response.

Vitality for life ended that day for Victoria Northrup.

In her seven short years, there had only been one comfort; being held by her father.

As the two walked the length of the pier, Victoria stopped and held up her arms; wishing the comfort of her father’s embrace to make life better.

When the man cradled his daughter, she fell limp. Victoria no longer felt warmth in the man’s embrace. She didn’t wrap her arms around his neck as she always had. All four girl-limbs dangled below the man’s forearms; appearing as a dead body; lifeless and without animation.

The man leaned forward and whispered into his daughter's ear. “You’re going to have to rise above it, dear.” He finished with one final admonition. “Remember, there are things that must be kept within the bosom of the family.”

Words were spoken to the girl that affected her; and would her children. Psychoses resonated across generations. The Germans understood this. Equally violent retribution was the only manner in which to put a halt to destructive dominion.

Talking beyond abuse was meant to absolve the worthless father of accountability. Negative effects possessed the energy to resonate eternally. Passiveness decreed acceptance of evil’s predilections. 

Harry Northrup’s outsized self-conception offered certainty he’d be able to make Victoria better. Sexual encounters were considered nothing more than ephemeral experiences for his third child. After all, her afternoon with Markham had been approved by him; as should insistence she react as if nothing happened.

Victoria’s soul separated from flesh that day. Never again would she conceive of life as given by God; an experience whereby souls strengthened for the sake of furtherance. She became incapable of participating in a beautiful and growing universe. Refusal to acknowledge such a vile experience meant lies, simple utterances of convenience, concealed truths within weak veneers.

Inversions of reality stayed with the girl as she matured. Lies became truth. Darkness offered light. Abundance offered value.

These men were weak; but rose quickly toward societal control. There were many like them stationed across the globe; replicating tactical measures meant to ensure strategic success.

Seeds of societal destruction had been planted.

Victoria never experienced love as intense as the abuse she suffered that day. The Godly emotion had been taken by her father and Marty Markham. She’d never be able to pass along devotion's joy to children or grandchildren. Its effects possessed the potential to destroy eternally.