by Dakan
There'd been talk of getting a condo up in South Beach and splitting their time between the two cities, but the truth was, they didn't have the capital or manpower to expand. The four of them were running themselves ragged just to keep up with expenses here. Those fucking cameras of Bee's cost a fortune, even when they were stolen. Maybe this plan of Isaiah's would open things up for them. She sure hoped so. She needed something. 206 Geek Mafia: Mile Zero
It was more like fifteen minutes before Cassie showed up. Chloe didn't hear her untie the boat. All of a sudden it was moving and Cassie was laughing and they were out in the water. The engine roared to life and the race was on.
"Hey!" shouted Cassie over the engine. "Did I wake you?"
"No," Chloe said, laughing. "Good call on the race. Thanks for covering for me like that."
"I can tell a hawk from a handsaw," Cassie replied.
"Really? I'm not sure I can," Chloe responded from her prone position. "So where are they?"
"Coming around the island now. Keep your head down. Your friend is looking right at us." Cassie gave the other boat a big wave with her whole arm. "READY? SET! GO!!!!" she shouted.
But instead of pouring on the acceleration, Cassie just eased the engine a bit, and they puttered along. "The other guys aren't really racing," she reported. "Or maybe they are. Porky's boat has a really small motor."
The other boat must've been slow, because it took them five times as long to get back to shore as the outbound trip. "They're not going into the marina," Cassie said in a low voice between shouts at the other boat in which she urged them to go even slower. "They're headed for Simonton Beach."
"Crap," said Sandee. "Are you sure?"
"I think so. We're almost there."
Simonton Beach was a tiny public piece of beachfront property sandwiched between two hotels, one of which was unfortunately Eddie's place, the Hyatt. It made sense as a landing place if the killer was going to check in with his bosses. But there was just a single cement pier there, and it would impossible for Chloe to disembark without being noticed.
"Hey, does your phone work?" Chloe asked.
"I don't have a phone," Cassie replied, her tone implying that Chloe had just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable.
"I gave you a phone. You called me on it."
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"That's your phone," Cassie pointed out.
"Ok, but does it work?"
"Sure!"
"Can I have it?" Chloe asked.
"Sure!" said Cassie, but she wasn't making any move to hand it over.
"Can I have it now?"
"I hid it on the land. I didn't want it to get wet."
"Good thinking," Chloe said with a sigh. "Ok, well, give up this slow boat race crap and speed me around to Mallory Square. I'll jump off and then run over before they make land. I'll pick up his trail there."
"Ok!" The engine roared to life and Cassie cackled as they made a sudden swerve to starboard and sped through the channel. Less than two minutes later, Cassie repeated her fast break maneuver, again stalling out the engine and slamming into the seawall by Mallory Square to boot. Ground level was a good five feet above the water-logged floor of the boat, but Cassie gave her ass a push and Chloe managed to clamber onto shore with only a few scrapes on her knees. She blew her crazy friend a kiss and then sprinted across the wide plaza, dodging tourists on her way to Front Street. She had a killer to catch.
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Chapter 27
PAUL met up with Sandee outside the Crawford place, where the party continued from the night before. Still in girl form, Sandee had changed out of his Morgana costume and into a miniskirt and tube-top combo with knee-high stiletto boots and fishnets. Both Chloe and Paul had argued that it wasn't exactly the most efficient killer-hunting outfit when he'd left the house, but there was no changing Sandee's mind when it came to fashion. Besides, Paul had seen him fight in stilettos before, and it was a mighty impressive sight.
"How's the party going?" Paul asked, as he put the scooter in gear and turned back the way he'd come, Sandee clinging to his back.
"I hardly got a chance to tell," he pouted. "But Quinn seems to have things under control. Bernie and Erica say hi."
"That's great," said Paul, "But Bee's been tracking Jeanie for like half an hour now and she's gone into a dead zone."
"You mean that new restaurant on Fleming?"
"No, I mean a place with no cameras," Paul said. "Over near the library. But we've got all the streets coming and going from there, so we think she might have gone to ground on that block. Or, just as likely, she's meeting someone, maybe even in that park by the library there."
"And we're going to check it out?" said Sandee.
"That's the plan," said Paul.
"I'm not really dressed for it," he pointed out.
"You'll have to make due. We did warn you..."
"Fine, fine. Hey? Where's Winston? Did he go ahead?"
"He actually left to do whatever it is he does when we're not around. Got a call from Lily and had some sort of emergency. I suspect maybe Isaiah wanted to talk to him about something, but who knows."
Paul pulled the scooter up onto the sidewalk near Mangia, Mangia, his favorite Italian place on the island, which was only a few blocks from the library. "We walk from here," he said, dismounting after Sandee. He undid the bungee cords holding his backpack to the scooter's rear and slung it over his shoulder.
"What's the plan?"
"We play tourists out for a late evening walk and see if we can find any sign of her," he said, pulling a New York Yankees cap from the bag and putting it on. Sandee looked at him, adjusted the hat to sit lower over his eyes and nodded.
"And hope she doesn't recognize us?" Sandee said.
"That's the idea," Paul said. "I've got two more cameras in the bag if we need them."
"You know, I never watched reality TV before I met you three, and let me tell you, it's even more boring than I thought it would be."
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"Glad to help," said Paul, offering his arm to Sandee. "Care for a stroll?"
They walked down the street, arms linked, keeping up a happy, fake patter about imaginary friends doing scandalous things back in New York. They had fun one-upping each other, which made the laughs they shared genuine and thus provided a stronger false impression for anyone watching them. Paul chose the side of the street opposite the library, not wanting to pass too close if Jeanie or anyone else was indeed lurking in the garden area beside the old building.
"And then Misty St. Clair showed up wearing a Dolce Gabbana from two years ago, and I just had to laugh because I'd seen the same dress on a streetwalker..." Sandee was saying, when they came up across from the garden. There was someone in there. Someone moving on the other side of the low hedge wall that separated it from the street.
Paul stopped, swung Sandee into his arms and kissed him, then whispered, "Nuzzle my neck..."
Sandee did as he was told, rubbing his cheek against the side of Paul's neck as they held each other close. "Is she in there?" Sandee asked.
Paul peered into the darkness. The figure was a woman, about the right height. It had to be her. "I think so,"
he said. "Looks like she's alone."
"So now what?" Sandee purred, giving Paul's butt a playful squeeze. In spite of himself, Paul was getting kind of turned on.
"Good question," he said, returning the squeeze. He leaned back to expose his neck even more, giving him a chance to look around at the surroundings. Houses. Guesthouses. An antique store. No good place to set up a camera without being noticed. They'd have to play it dangerous.
Paul started walking again, his arm around Sandee's waist as he leaned close, kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "We'll go around the block and circle back. You find a hiding place at the far end of the street, and I'll go find some place back from where we came. We'll have an open cell line, and if any
one comes to meet her, we'll see him."
Sandee nodded, "So, no more kissing?" he joked.
"Not unless I get my girlfriend's permission," he replied with a smile.
Once they reached the end of the block and turned the corner, they split up. Sandee eyed a tree and, to Paul's amazement, managed to shimmy up into its branches, stiletto heels, miniskirt and all. Paul envied his mad monkey skills, but didn't see himself taking the two or three hours a day to do yoga and gung fu that Sandee always made time for. Still, he was in better shape than he'd been in a long time, and the jog around the block didn't even wind him. There were no handy trees to hide in however, nor was there even a shadowed doorway.
The street was well lit, the local shops closed.
With no other choice, Paul moved back up the street toward the library, this time staying on the same side of the street as his target. He'd noticed a row of bushes along the library's façade, near the doorway. If he could sneak in there without being detected, it'd be a great hiding place. Sticking close to the building's wall, he made his way toward the spot, and in the darkness he nearly tripped over the man sleeping there. "Shit," he thought. The man stirred and turned over, but didn't wake up. He stank of course, like sweat and alcohol. Paul weighed his options and decided he was better off staying put. As long as he was quiet, the man would probably sleep right through his surveillance. And there really wasn't anywhere else to hide.
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He squatted down in the damp earth, his back against the library's exterior wall. He couldn't quite see the street from there, and so began picking away at the bush's branches, clearing a line of sight through the foliage. When, ten minutes later, someone did walk by, he could only see enough to confirm that, yes indeed, someone had walked by. After they'd passed, he risked poking his head out to take a look. An older man in jeans and a T-shirt with dark hair. He walked right past the library garden without so much as a glance inside.
Not their guy. Nor were the next three men and two women who walked by, one of whom happened to glance over her shoulder and catch Paul sticking his head out. She just gave him a quizzical look and smiled. This really was not the best hiding place.
Five more minutes passed in discomfort. Paul's back was killing him. He wanted to talk to Sandee, see how he was doing, but there was no sense making unnecessary noise just because he was bored. As it turned out, it was Sandee who eventually broke the silence.
"There's someone coming," Sandee reported over the cell phone. "I think it's that guy."
"Which guy?" Paul asked in a whisper. "Raff ?"
"No," Sandee hissed. "The guy. The killer guy."
"Shit," Paul said. "Ok, let's see what happens."
Paul waited, holding his breath and trying not to move a muscle. After a minute, the man still hadn't passed by his location, even though he'd had more than enough time. "He hasn't come by here, yet." Paul told Sandee.
"I can't see him either," Sandee replied.
"Ok, I'm going to get a closer look." Paul pulled out his digital camera from his backpack and set it to night vision. Then stepping back over the sleeping man, he inched out from behind the bushes as fast as he could without making too much noise.
Paul heard voices coming from the garden, a male and a female. It had to be the killer and Jeanie talking. Paul climbed over the library steps and, crouching low, moved to the side of the garden, a plant-covered fence blocking their view of him from inside. The voices grew just a bit louder, but he still couldn't make out what they were saying.
He stuck his camera through the bars of the fence and looked through the viewfinder. It revealed the two of them, in shades of green, standing about ten feet away from Paul. They stood with a yard or so of space between them as they talked in low, serious tones. As Paul watched, the woman threw up her arms in annoyance and said, "Fine, let's go." In a voice loud enough to hear. The man motioned toward the gate.
It was indeed Jeanie who walked toward the garden's exit, her face serious, even angry. And the man behind her, although he'd shaved his beard, was the killer. Paul snapped pictures of them together in rapid succession.
He had them! He had her with the killer, Raff with her, and Eddie with Raff. The transitive property of being murderous bastards. Isaiah would have to move now.
Paul was about to consider just where he was going to hide when they exited the garden when he noticed the killer pulling something from behind his back. The object was dark on the green low-light display, a dark six-inch long screwdriver or maybe an awl. And ice pick possibly. Whatever it was, the killer's intentions were obvious to Paul. He was about to stab Jeanie in the back with it.
"Look out!" Paul screamed, without thinking. Jeanie looked his way and recoiled in surprise, but the killer never lost his focus, and drove the shiv up into Jeanie. He might have originally been going for a kidney, but Chapter 27
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Paul's warning had caused her to shift her stance just enough that it instead seemed to glance off her ribs. She spun away from him, her face wincing in pain.
Paul stopped looking at the camera and turn and ran, sprinting around the fence to the garden entrance just in time to see Jeanie come tumbling out backward onto the pavement in front him. The killer was right on top of her, coming through the entrance. It was a screwdriver he held, black with a black handle, only its tip shining silver in the streetlight. He fell upon Jeanie, his knees pinning her to the ground. She punched up at him, the blows glancing off his chest as he brought the screwdriver up and down toward her face. She manage to twist her head away just in time and the weapon slammed into the sidewalk.
As the killer brought it up again, Paul launched himself at the man in a head-first tackle, knocking him off Jeanie and sending them both to the ground in a heap of arms and legs. Paul was thankful to hear the screwdriver skitter off into the road. But the man was big and strong and skilled. With one arm he pushed Paul's chest, forcing enough room between them so that he could bring his other elbow smashing into the side of Paul's head. He blacked out for an instant, his eyes rolling up and then snapped back to reality as a second blow smashed into his forehead, knocking him to the ground.
The man tossed Paul aside and got his feet under him long enough to shoot across the distance between himself and Jeanie, who was trying to stand up. The killer hit her with a strong uppercut to the body, probably powerful enough to shock her liver. Jeanie collapsed from the knockout body blow. Paul, gasping for breath, wondered which of them he'd kill first.
A loud, two-note whistle screeched through the air, low then high, as if someone were calling their dog. Paul and the killer both turned to see Sandee there, a vision of loveliness in high-heeled boots. He stood in a defensive, classic wing-chun pose, left leg and right arm forward.
Sandee had his boy form and his girl form, and aside from the clothes and the voice, there wasn't much difference between them, personality-wise. But then there was the other Sandee. The black belt martial artist and yoga instructor Sandee who meditated daily and could punch a hole in a brick wall if he wanted to. Kung Fu Sandee didn't have time for double entendres or snappy comebacks. Kung Fu Sandee was here to kick your ass.
The killer stood up and turned to face the newcomer, his face still as stone. The two of them stood there for a moment, almost the same height, thanks to Sandee's boots. Paul crawled over toward Jeanie, although he wasn't sure what good he could do in his current state. Maybe he'd drag her out of the way or something. The killer heard him and turned and shot a quick glare Paul's way, which froze him in his tracks. Sandee chose that moment to strike.
Three quick steps forward and then his rear leg swung forward at the hip in a roundhouse arc, shin smacking into the inside of the killer's right knee. His right elbow followed through a split second later, smashing into the killer's jaw as it moved right to left and then catching him on the other side of the face as it swept back from left to right. Sandee's kicking leg recoiled back and his hip foll
owed, twisting his body. As he settled back onto his right leg, he launched a straight thrust kick with his left, catching the killer in the stomach and pushing him away from him. He fell back on his ass with an "Ooof."
Whatever the man had expected from the "woman" in heels, it couldn't have been that. Paul heard a cry from behind him and looked back to see two people, an older man and woman, who'd just rounded the corner. They must've seen Sandee attack the man. They retreated back the way they came, but Paul could see the woman reaching into her purse - the cops would be here soon.
The killer started to get to his feet, hand on the ground for support when Sandee slashed forward again, his knee connecting with the man's forehead. Just for good measure, he brought the stiletto tip of his boot heel Chapter 27
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down on the man's left hand in a vicious stomp. Even Paul winced in pain at the sight of it, and when he heard the loud snap, he closed his eyes and looked away.
"Shit," he heard Sandee say, and he opened them. He was limping now, pulling back away from the man. The snapping sound hadn't been the man's hand breaking (although surely it had). It was Sandee's stiletto heel breaking off at the base.
The killer managed to regain his feet as Sandee was trying to maintain balance on one foot. He was woozy, no doubt dazed by the knee to the head which had opened a nasty looking cut above his left eye. But the killer had the wherewithal to lunge forward at Sandee, shoving him with both hands. Although Sandee managed to deflect the attack, he couldn't do so and keep his balance. He went down, although in typical Sandee fashion he managed to turn it into a relatively graceful backwards roll and ended up crouched low on his toes.
But the killer was on the run now, racing down the middle of the road toward White Street with a loping, limping gait. Paul was still gasping for air and on the ground, in no position to give chase. Sandee started after him but immediately stumbled. It was impossible to run in just one heel. He sat down where he was and started to undo the boots, but Paul called to him. "Sandee, stop!"
