Preservation

by Charles Lemoine

  “Sure, thing,” Theresa said. “Hey, Mariska?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Mariska looked behind her at the store opening up for the day. “I will call you when I land.”

  “Safe, flight.” Theresa hung up the phone. No, doubt she was already getting things organized for Mariska. She was truly the best partner-in-crime anyone could ask for.

  Mariska got up and went into the store. She grabbed two Los Angeles sweatshirts, one pair of shorts, headphones, phone charger and international outlet adaptor, some much-needed toiletries, and the latest copy of her favorite author, Carlie Lemont’s book, Murder at a Discount. A hundred-dollar-bill covered the cost, and she went back to the gate. She sat, only to hear her flight called for boarding. Getting into line, she filed toward the front like cattle to slaughter.

  She handed the airline attendant her boarding pass when the computer beeped, and the light turned red. “Is something wrong?” Mariska asked.

  The attendant looked confused for a moment, taking the boarding pass with her to the computer. Butterflies formed in Mariska’s tummy. The attendant took long enough for a few passengers behind her to start grumbling. She took a couple deep, cleansing breaths, and tried to relax. The woman returned with a smile on her face.

  “Here you go, Doctor Stevenson.” She handed Mariska a new boarding pass. “You’ve been upgraded to first class.”

  Mariska took the slip of paper with her new assigned seat and said, “Really?” Sure enough. Seat 2A. Window and first-class, just what Mariska liked. “Thank you.”

  She headed down the ramp toward the airplane, when her phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Mariska didn’t recognize the number, but the message said: Enjoy your flight. Badger.

  How did he manage that? And that’s when it hit her. She had a contact number. This was the first time she’d been sent a text by him from a number other than Unavailable. Maybe, Badger knew something she didn’t, and she’d need his help? Mentally preparing for the long flight ahead and the unknown situation that awaits her, she took an antihistamine to help her sleep on the plane. She had a feeling she was going to need every ounce of strength and rest she was going to get.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mariska’s legs felt stiff and weak as she hurried through the airport. It never ceased to amaze her how sitting in a luxury-seat on an airplane for an extended flight could take more out of her than running a half marathon. She only stopped long enough to get a Starbucks coffee and power-shop through the Marc Jacobs store on the way out—she still had plenty of room on the credit card. She needed clothes that would be appropriate for meeting with some very important people at the university. A new stylish backpack, three shopping bags filled with clothes, her carry-on, purse, and iced coffee in hand, she exited the airport. The flight she took from the Los Angeles airport had been delayed, and by the time she landed in Denmark, it was the next morning. No wonder she was exhausted.

  The Copenhagen airport was a flurry of activity. Thousands of passengers rushing to the gates, standing in line at security, and even shopping at the shops that lined the long hallways of the terminals. Mariska was in a hurry but took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the airport itself. The Danish people clearly had an eye for art as the high glass walls, and multi-level styling reminded Mariska of a high-class American mall, rather than a busy transportation hub. Outside, the airport was equally as busy at this hour. People, taxis, buses, and carts overflowing with luggage swarmed in a chaotic mass of life and humanity. It wasn’t an ideal place to make a phone call. Mariska looked for a deserted corner where she could put her things down and contact, Theresa.

  “Dr. Stevenson?” a man’s voice behind her said. She froze for a moment. Who else knew she was here? She hadn’t expected to meet Theresa’s contact, Edgar until she made it to the University. “Dr. Stevenson?”

  Mariska turned and saw a tall, lanky man, with broad shoulders holding a sign with her name on it. The man’s tailored suit was expensive, and his shoes looked like Italian leather. This cabbie knew how to dress, not to mention the taxi business must be good in Denmark. He was looking right at her with a questioning look on his face. Before she could respond, he turned to the side, looking further into the crowd of people leaving the airport. He said, “Dr. Stevenson?”

  She hurried over to him. “I’m Dr. Stevenson. Did Theresa send you?”

  He bowed his head ever so slightly and motioned toward a car parked at the curb a few feet away. She saw it was a very nice, black Mercedes with dark tinted windows. There wasn’t a taxi sign on the window, but she wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore. Did the city of Copenhagen require their taxis to mark their vehicles somehow? There wasn’t time to research it. She took a second to look at the man once again. His eyes were averted as if he was unwilling to make direct eye contact. Sign of respect? He wasn’t of classic European descent. His dark skin and beard made her think he could be from the Middle East somewhere. But if Theresa sent him, he must be legit.

  He motioned for her to come with him. “Please, Dr. Stevenson, we must go.” His accent was thick, but from where, she couldn’t tell. Without further hesitation, she went against everything her mother had ever told her about survival in a strange city. Mariska could hear her mom’s voice inside her head, telling her it’s better to die at the scene than to be taken alive. She shrugged her shoulders and threw all of her bags into the backseat and got in—closing the door behind her. Sealing her fate one way or the other.

  The man got into the front seat and started the car.

  “Can you please take me directly to the Hilton? I have some important business at the University but need to check in to my room and get freshened up; it was a long flight.” Mariska smiled as she spoke.

  The man behind the wheel looked at her through the rearview mirror. His eyes were kind but mysterious. He didn’t seem like the usual cab driver she’d become used to in Los Angeles. “Absolutely, Dr. Stevenson. I will take you to the Hilton right away.”

  As he pulled away from the curb, he raised the glass divider between the front and back seats. She sat back in the comfortable leather seat and took a long, cleansing breath. Mariska was finally getting somewhere on this investigation. All she needed to do was meet with the University, have the tooth DNA analyzed, and make it back to the United States in one piece. The La Brea Woman was within reach—she could feel it. She closed her eyes and thought back to the last time she’d seen her. The ancient woman, lying in a wood and glass storage container. It was made to exact specifications to preserve her remains. Preservation was the key to learning and understanding. The more intact DNA and trace evidence that could be recovered from her body the more they could learn about her and the time period in which she lived. What had the weather been like the day she died? Had she ever been a mother? How had she lived? The answer to these questions and the thousands of others that Mariska had thought about during the years of research she’d already done could be answered…if only, she had her remains to examine.

  The car lurched and pulled her out of her thoughts. Traffic must have been heavy. Not surprising considering how close they were to the airport.

  What was she going to wear? She put one of the bags in her lap and started mentally putting together an outfit when she realized, she hadn’t reached Theresa yet. Would she be awake? Mariska pulled out her cell phone and connected the call. It rang a few times before going to voicemail.

  You’ve reached, Theresa. I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

  “Hey, Theresa. Sorry to call you so late. I just wanted to let you know I made it safe and sound to Copenhagen, and the driver is taking me to the Hilton. Can you call me or message me regarding where and when I’m to meet up, Edgar at the University?”

  Mariska hung up the phone and sighed. If Theresa was already asleep, how was she going
to get everything she needs within the next couple of hours? She would try and call again, once she got to the hotel. “Stop stressing, Mariska,” she reminded herself.

  The tires squealed a bit as they turned the corner. She looked up and the driver’s eyes locked with hers. A sinking feeling pushed deeper into her belly, and she felt for a seatbelt. There wasn’t any. She looked for any signage or stickers in the windows to indicate which company this cab represented. Nothing on the side windows, so she turned and looked at the back window.

  No stickers. No placards.

  She put the address of the hotel into her phone to see how much farther it was to get there. The little blue pin indicating her destination blinked and then the route to get there highlighted in red. She was only a couple kilometers away now. At the next right, she should be able to see the tall building from the street.

  Suddenly, without warning, the car tires screeched, and they made a left turn.

  They were going the wrong way.

  “Driver, we were supposed to turn right.”

  Without saying a word, the driver made another left turn, nearly sideswiping a car parked on the corner.

  “Hey.” Mariska knocked on the window divider. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  The man said nothing but looked at her in the rearview mirror. His eyes no longer looked kind. Her heart began to race as the man’s speed increased. The next corner sent her sidelong into the door. The bags sitting on the seat next to her softened the collision, but not by much.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Mariska pulled herself back up into sitting and began banging hard onto the window with a clenched fist. “Stop the car. Let me out.” She kept banging on the window.

  Another hard turn and she slid into the door again, this time sending a searing hot pain into her hand. She scrambled back onto the seat and saw two of her knuckles had split on impact with door. Blood started to well up into the gash, but there wasn’t time to worry about such superficial wounds. This madman was going to kill her. Throwing herself across the back seat, she slid to the other side of the car and pulled on the door handle.

  It was locked. The door didn’t budge no matter how hard she pulled on the handle or slammed her shoulder into the door. Before she’d come up with what to do next, the car screeched to a halt. She looked up, out of the back window and saw she was in front of the Hilton hotel. The car rocked, ever so slightly, as the driver got out of the front seat. She watched as he circled the car and opened the door for her. She recoiled deeper into the car. He looked in and offered his hand.

  “Dr. Stevenson, you must hurry.”

  “Get away from me.” She backed all the way up against the door of the backseat. No matter how far she went, it wouldn’t seem far enough.

  Who the hell was this guy?

  “You must come with me. You must hurry.”

  There were people walking the streets, riding bicycles in all directions, but no one seemed to see this madman as he tried to grab her out of the backseat. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He squatted low. “I’m sorry if I’ve scared you.”

  “Well, too late for apologies, asshole.” Mariska grabbed her things and held onto them like a security blanket.

  The driver looked around him and stood for a second. Leaning down again he said, “You have to come with me now. There is little time for this nonsense.” He grabbed his cell phone.

  It was ringing.

  “Yes,” he said. “She is here.” The driver looked at her and shrugged before disconnecting the call and putting his phone back into his pocket. “We have been followed.”

  Followed?

  She looked at her current position, crammed into the backseat of a stranger’s car that doesn’t unlock from the inside. Mariska was being stupid, and she knew it. The man offered his hand, and she accepted it. He pulled her across the seat, grabbing her belongings as he closed the car door behind her. He ushered her away from the car toward the front of the hotel where a large cement planter containing well-manicured and sculpted bushes and flowers, obscured the view from the street.

  The driver pulled her by the elbow and a few more feet away from the street before he stopped and faced her. “You must be careful.”

  “What’s going on? Why were you driving like a maniac if you weren’t here to kill me?”

  He shook his head, his eyes taking on a fatherly softness. “I’m not here to kill you, doctor. Much the opposite. Heed my warning. Be careful, we were followed.”

  “By who?”

  He looked behind him, and she heard the sound of screeching tires. He turned back to her. “Go around and enter through the back. It will be safer. Less obvious.” He nodded and looked away. “I leave you now.”

  With no real answers and a renewed feeling of paranoia, she wanted to pepper him with questions. But she knew she wasn’t going to get any more answers. He took a few steps away from her and turned back, but kept his gaze averted. “You are here. You are safe. Badger has been repaid.” He walked away, disappearing behind the large cement planter as he went to the street.

  She waited a few seconds before she saw him pull away. His car sped down the street and out of sight. He had been sent by Badger, not Theresa? If she was going to survive long enough to see this adventure to the end, she was going to need to pull her shit together. Heeding the advice of the stranger, she grabbed her things and hurried around the side of the hotel and exited through the back—ever diligent to keep herself hidden along the way.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Blood-tinged water circled the drain. Steam from the hot water felt good on Mariska’s face, despite fogging up the mirror and obscuring the view of her reflection. Her knuckles were missing a layer of skin from being thrown about in the back seat of the cab, but they didn’t hurt too badly. Except for when she tried to move her fingers, or let her hand hang down by her side, or even wash out the cuts in the hot water. Then they hurt—bad enough to make her angry.

  She turned off the water and wiped the moisture from the mirror and caught a glimpse of her reflection. Not too bad, considering she hadn’t had much sleep in three days, and she kept getting assaulted. After brushing her hair, teeth, and applying enough makeup to hide her fatigue, she padded out of the bathroom and into the bedroom of the hotel suite. It wasn’t much of a room by Los Angeles standards. The stark white walls and minimalist furnishings were more for functionality than they were for aesthetics. There was a small table and chair across from a small screen television. She would be able to set up her laptop and do some work later.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rummaged through her things making sure she had the right clothes to wear for today’s meeting at the University. She selected a nice pair of pants, blouse, and sensible shoes. Not normally one to wear sneakers unless she was working in the field or exercising, she decided it made the most sense. She wasn’t familiar with the University, or how long of a walk she’d need to do. The three-inch heels wouldn’t feel that great after a few minutes of pounding the pavement not to mention how difficult it would be to don shoe covers if she was allowed inside the clean-lab where the DNA analysis took place. As soon as she’d finished getting dressed, her phone rang.

  It was Theresa. “Hey there,” Mariska said.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”

  “No, worries. Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Not that I mind you helping me out.” Mariska stood and tossed her dirty clothes into the corner next to her carry-on bag.

  “Nah, I had to get up super early today anyway.”

  Mariska debated telling her about the cab ride but then figured, full disclosure was the best policy. “I took a cab to the hotel, and things got crazy.”

  There was a moment of silence, but then Theresa said, “Oh really? How, so?”

  “This tall Middle Eastern man had a sign with my name on it, and he was calling out my name. Next thing I know, I’m in his cab, and he’s driving like a mania
c down the streets. I’m was tossed around the backseat like a bag of groceries when he screeched to a stop at the hotel.”

  “Sounds like he was trying to get you the best fare. You know how cabbies drive,” Theresa’s concerned voice didn’t match her dismissive words. “You didn’t die, right?”

  “I would normally agree with you, but then he told me that I was in danger.”

  “Well, yeah. You were in danger of getting into an accident.” Theresa’s joke fell flat, and they both grew silent. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to lighten the mood. You’re not in Los Angeles anymore. I figured you’d be safer away from the thug who’s been stalking you around town.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too. But I’m starting to think the cab-driver was right. He suggested I use the back entrance of the hotel and so I did. I kept a low profile while I checked in, but I felt like I was being watched.”

  “Did you see anyone…suspicious looking?”

  Mariska thought for a second. There had been a couple guys in business suits sitting in the lobby, but they never once looked in her direction. Come to think of it, no one really looked in her direction—except the front desk clerk. “I guess not, but it was Badger who sent the driver was sent to pick me up.”

  “Badger? How did he know you were in Copenhagen? You didn’t tell anyone else you were going there, did you?”

  “I told Detective Wulf, but other than him, no. And, get this, Badger upgraded my seats on the plane to first class. When I made reservations, there hadn’t even been any first-class seats available. I have a feeling this guy has a lot more power than we ever thought. Or…” Mariska’s voice trailed off.

  “Or, what?”

  “Or…a lot of people owe him favors.”

  “Favors? What do you mean?” Theresa asked.

  Mariska remembered how the cab driver’s expression was mysterious but kind. And then how when they were being chased, his eyes grew hard, and he’d driven like a professional…a guy who’d done that before—alluding pursuers. But when he mentioned Badger sending him, his expression had changed into a fatherly, concerned man. Almost like he was remembering a time when he’d been helped. Like he was paying it forward.”