The Man snapped to attention, breaking out in a sweat, refusing to remember.
It wasn't right the things she'd done to him that night. It wasn't proper. And yet he hadn't fled. He'd allowed her to do whatever she'd wanted. And she'd wanted it all.
He spotted car headlights coming up the hill. He'd stationed himself not too far from the entrance to the Sanderson mansion, but not close enough so that anyone in the guard house could spot him.
Jordanna was approaching. Her white Porsche unmistakable in the moonlight.
Another rich bitch! His for the taking.
It had not been easy finding out where she lived, but he'd done it, and now here she was. His excitement began to build for he knew that soon he would have her in his power.
He started his engine. As soon as she was near enough he hit the accelerator, swerving his car out of the shadows, smashing into the side of her Porsche, taking her completely by surprise.
Jordanna Levitt would soon be with Cheryl, exactly where she belonged.
And then he would be King. And eternal power would be his.
Chapter Forty-Five
Sitting in his study in front of the television Mac watched as Rosa Alvarez made a big deal out of the task force formed to track down the LA Strangler. Listening to her you'd think her network was personally responsible for getting it together.
He waited impatiently for her to name Zane Marion Ricca, but she didn't, and he couldn't understand why. He picked up the phone and called Quincy. 'What's happening?' he asked tersely. 'I thought you said they'd name him today?'
'It'll probably hit the news tomorrow,' Quincy informed him. 'They've put out an APB, but sometimes they ask the press to hold back on naming the suspect.'
'Jesus!' Mac complained. 'What about the girls? Have the cops warned them?'
'I'm sure they have.'
'So they're safe?'
'I spoke to Detective Carlyle this afternoon, he assured me it was taken care of.'
'OK, OK,' Mac said, still feeling uneasy. He wanted Zane to be caught, arrested and thrown back into jail. Only then would he feel secure.
He could barely admit it to himself, but the horrible truth was that Zane was his cousin, they shared a blood-line, and it sickened him.
Feeling edgy, he wondered if he should call Luca. It might be a good idea to get his take on what was happening, for Luca would surely know if Zane had been picked up yet, unless of course he'd handled it in his own way...
Mac had always thought of himself as a true liberal, but now he found himself hoping that Luca had handled it. He wanted Luca to have found the prick and buried him six feet under.
Jesus! He truly was Luca Carlotti's son.
It was a frightening thought.
'So like we're followin' Bambi in the limo,' Bosco explained. 'An' suddenly she pulls her car over to the side of the road and this guy stops behind her - it looks to me like he was followin' her, too. So he gets out an' goes over to her car...'
Luca frowned. 'What guy?'
'Dunno. They must've bin together, 'cause then she gets outta her car, leaves it there, an' gets in his car. Then they drive off cozy as two fuckin' peas.'
'What was you doin' all this time?'
'We was parked down the street watchin' the action.'
'So then what happens?'
We trail the car with her an' the guy in. He takes off fast, hits Sunset, turns on Laurel Canyon, an' takes a side road up into the hills. We're behind him as close as we can without them suspectin' they're bein' followed.'
'Did you find out where she went?'
'Yeah, some deserted house way up there.'
'Was he her boyfriend?'
Bosco shrugged. 'How would I know?'
'Did they look loving together?'
'You're askin' the wrong person.'
'OK, OK,' Luca said impatiently. 'You get an address?'
'Not exactly.'
'That's OK, you'll go back tomorrow an' check it out.'
* * *
On the plane heading back to LA Michael felt as if he were going home and it was a good feeling. The relief of getting out of Sal's house was overwhelming.
They'd finally let him see Bella and the sad thing was she'd barely recognized him. She wasn't his child any more, they'd done a good job of brainwashing her.
Pandi had brought her in. 'This is your Uncle Mikey,' she'd said. 'Uncle Mikey.'
'Hello, Uncle Mikey,' Bella had said, clutching a stuffed teddy bear, gazing up at him with big blue eyes. Rita's eyes.
'Do you remember me, sweetheart?' he'd asked, bending down to talk to her.
'Dunno,' she'd said shyly.
'We lived in the same apartment in New York - when you were real little.'
'Dunno,' she'd repeated, swinging her teddy bear in circles.
'I'm going to tell you something,' he'd said, squeezing her hand tightly. 'And I want you to listen carefully. If there's anything you ever need, you can always come to me. Can you remember that?'
'Okey-doke,' she'd said, unconcernedly popping bubble gum. 'Okey-doke, Uncle Mikey.' Then she'd reached up, put her little arms around his neck and kissed him.
It killed him. But what could he do? If he wanted to fight this legally, he wouldn't stand a chance.
He'd spent a few more minutes with Bella, hugged her close and walked out of the house without looking back. Now he had to go forward, make a new life for himself in California.
He'd taken a cab to the airport and phoned Quincy when he'd gotten there. 'What's happening?'
'Jesus Christ!' Quincy had sounded really annoyed. 'You call me and you ask me what's happening. What's going on with you? Did you find her? Is she safe?'
'You know what, Q - it's a long story, I'll tell you when I get there.'
'Are you bringing her back? Amber will get a bed ready.'
'No, she's not coming back. She's with my family.'
'You took her there?'
'I'll explain everything when I'm home.'
Sitting on the plane, it suddenly occurred to him that he'd blown a date with Kennedy. Marjory had also been expecting him at her house, and knowing Marjory she'd be furious, considering he'd borrowed ten thousand dollars that very morning.
First priority - find a way to pay it back, and fast.
He called Kennedy, using the phone on the plane. He got her machine and left a message.
Next he phoned Marjory. The butler informed him she'd retired for the evening.
After that he fell asleep, dozing fitfully, dreaming about Bella, Rita, his mother and Sal.
He was proud of the fact that he hadn't smashed his brother's face in. It was quite an achievement to know he could control his sometimes violent temper, because in his drinking days he would have beaten him to a pulp.
Those days were over now, he was wiser, more responsible.
Finally he was his own person.
* * *
'You stupid maniac!' Jordanna shouted, leaping out of her car, practically jumping up and down with fury. 'Look what you've done! You've smashed up my car! I can't believe it! What's wrong with you?'
Angrily she began inspecting the damage.
Zane acted swiftly, getting out of his car he ran over as if he were as concerned as she was.
'What are you - drunk?' she yelled, glaring at him. 'I'm calling the police.'
'I... I'm sorry,' he mumbled, playing dumb.
She bent over to pick up a piece of bent chrome.
Swiftly he moved up behind her.
'This is shit-' she began to say, holding a broken mirror aloft.
He took her by surprise, grabbing her in a choke-hold from behind, placing the chloroform-soaked pad he'd prepared over her nose and mouth.
She reacted violently, kicking back with an unexpected strength.
-=O=---=O=-
Fast reaction. Not as easy as the other one. It was all he could do to keep the pad in place. She was fighting like a wild animal, but be was strong, stronger
, and her struggles were in vain, because after a few moments she slumped helplessly to the ground, unconscious.
The Man half carried, half dragged her to his car. Then he opened the trunk and unceremoniously bundled her inside, shutting it fast.
He looked around, the street was dark and deserted. Producing a flashlight he inspected the front of his rental car - it was only slightly damaged, while one side of the Porsche was totally wrecked. Good. He'd enjoyed slamming the bitch. Getting behind the wheel of his car he took off fast.
Driving along Sunset to Laurel Canyon, he made sure he kept within the speed limit, looking neither left nor right. At one stop light a police car pulled up alongside him. He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead, his expression betraying nothing.
By the time he reached the house and opened the trunk, Jordanna was in a semi-conscious state, mumbling unintelligibly. The bitch couldn't even stay unconscious for long.
He lifted her up, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her inside.
With one hand he unlocked the door to the cellar and staggered downstairs.
He shone his flashlight at Cheryl. She lay exactly where he'd left her - shackled to the pipe, still in a heavily drugged sleep.
The cellar was small, approximately eight feet by eight, damp and very dark.
He threw Jordanna down on the ground and handcuffed her to the same pipe as Cheryl. Then he bound her ankles tightly.
When he was satisfied they were both secured, he left them down there and went upstairs.
* * *
Jordanna began to groan. 'What's... what's going on?' she mumbled. 'Where's Bobby? Bobby...' Opening her eyes she realized she couldn't see a thing.
For a moment she thought she was in hospital. Somebody had smashed into her Porsche and now she was in the goddamn hospital!
She tried to sit up, suddenly realizing her wrists were shackled to the wall.
Oh, God! In a blinding flash it came to her - she'd been kidnapped!
A feeling of dread enveloped her. This was her worst nightmare coming true. Rich Hollywood kid, father would pay a big ransom. Oh, Jesus!
She could smell chloroform all over her face. Sneezing vigorously she shook her head and tried to make herself alert.
She could hear shallow breathing nearby, and realized she was not alone. But it was too dark to make out who was down there with her.
'Who's there?' she called out, controlling any sign of panic. 'Who the fuck is there?'
Nobody answered.
Pushing her back up against the wall, she desperately tried to acclimatize her eyes to the dark. Although her ankles were bound together, she was able to move her legs, and she did so, pushing against a body in the corner.
Oh, God! Somebody was down there with her.
Shoving the person with her feet, she muttered an urgent, 'Wake up, wake the hell up!'
Whoever it was didn't move.
She was in the dark - ever since she was a little girl being alone in the pitch-black had always scared her.
Gotta start thinking straight, she told herself sternly. Gotta start thinking real straight if I'm to get out of this one.
She reviewed the situation. She'd been snatched off the street, put in a cellar, handcuffed and tied up. But she was determined not to be frightened. She'd get out of this, and she'd get out of it alive.
With that thought foremost in mind, she drew her knees up against her chest, rested her head on them, and settled down for a long cold night.
* * *
Halfway through the evening Kennedy knew she'd made a mistake, a little of Charlie Dollar went a long way. He was his usual stoned charming self, but she'd had enough. Just because she was angry Michael hadn't called, she should not have headed for the nearest man. It wasn't working out. And the sad thing was that Charlie thought he had a chance.
'You know what, Charlie?' she said. 'I've got a really bad headache. Do you mind if I skip coffee and go home?'
'You're the designated driver,' he reminded her, raising an eyebrow. 'And I'm your date.'
'So I'll do the right thing,' she said, making light of the situation. 'I'll take you home first, then you won't have any complaints.'
'I thought we were dropping by Homebase tonight,' he said.
'You go. I'm not in the mood. The thing is I'm still working on the LA Strangler story, and I have researchers in New York bringing me facts even as we speak. There'll be stuff waiting for me on my computer. You know what it's like when you're on a movie - I bet you get obsessed. Well, that's how I am when I'm working a story.'
Charlie pulled a face. 'Yeah, yeah, your message is coming across loud and painfully clear. This is called movie star turndown - something I do not see much of.'
'I'm sure you don't,' she said, hoping he'd take the hint and get up.
He made no attempt to move. 'So, you don't want to tell me who the guy is, huh? Maybe I can give you valuable advice, my vast wealth of experience is legendary.'
'It's not a guy.'
'C'mon, green eyes, put it on the table.'
She sighed. 'OK, I met someone. We had a drink together, and tonight we were supposed to have dinner. He didn't call, end of story.'
What's he got that I don't have more of?'
'I don't know. And quite frankly, I don't care. He's out of the loop.'
Charlie rolled his eyes. 'Women!'
'Excuse me?'
'Sweetheart, surely you know we never call when we say we will - it's a male thing.'
She was in no mood to listen to Charlie's take on male-female relationships, but he was on a roll. There were many ladies, who, before I was a movie star, would not give me the time of day. I know it's hard for you to imagine, my dear, but it's true.'
'Is that why you became an actor?' she asked, signalling a waiter for the cheque.
'It was unintentional. Rock stars claim they became musicians because of a love for music. This is not true. They became musicians to get laid. The same with actors. Why do you think every horny young guy in high school joins the acting class? To get laid of course.'
'So you're telling me that's why Sir Laurence Olivier decided to be an actor?' she said, with more than a hint of irony.
'Nah... the English are different. They're so busy getting whipped by their nannies and boarding-school matrons they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground.'
'Very eloquent, Charlie.'
'I say it the way I see it.'
The waiter brought the check and she handed him her credit card. Charlie seemed to have no problem with her paying.
'So that's why you became an actor, to get laid?' she asked.
He grinned wolfishly. 'I did a lot of other things first.'
'And you weren't successful?'
'Being a movie star means scoring with ninety-nine per cent of the women out there. Very few say no. You're one of the few.'
'Am I supposed to be flattered?'
'Don't be - you're missing out.'
'I'd sooner be your friend than your lover,' she said, signing the receipt.
'You can be both.'
She stood up from the table. 'Thanks for the offer, but I don't think so.'
She drove them home. He wasn't giving up. He invited her in for a nightcap or a joint. She turned both offers down.
'OK, green eyes, but I'm gonna get you one of these days,' he promised, wagging a warning finger at her.
'Keep waiting, Charlie.'
That wolfish grin again. 'Oh, I will.'
He stood on the steps of his house watching her drive off.
She wondered if Dahlia was keeping his bed warm.
* * *
The first thing Kennedy did when she got home was contact Rosa to find out the latest developments.
'They're probably naming Zane Ricca tomorrow,' Rosa said. 'They've matched a perfect fingerprint, there's no doubt it's him.'
'Do they have any idea where to find him?'
'No details. Maybe tomorrow they'll release h
is picture. If so, it won't be long before somebody turns him in. When they do, our producer wants you to do a story on air. You know, show his photo, ask people if they've seen him. Do a re-enactment of one of the murders with actors playing the roles. Those kind of shows are real ratings grabbers.'
'No, Rosa, I don't want to do tabloid TV.'
'Not if it helps track him down?'
'It's not my thing.'
'OK, OK,' Rosa said testily. 'Maybe I'll do it.'
Kennedy played her answering machine, and was pleased to find a message from Michael calling from a plane. So that's why she hadn't heard from him. Of course, he could have phoned earlier, but still, it was nice to know she hadn't been stood up after all.
Switching on her computer she checked to see what information her researchers had come up with. Tapping in to review the new facts she noted they'd done a thorough job.
ZANE MARION RICCA
Born 10 January 1958
New York Hospital
Father - Bruno Ricca (currently serving a twenty-year prison sentence for armed robbery) Mother - Phyllis Ricca (sister of Luca Carlotti)
Now that was interesting.
She scanned the rest of it quickly - schools, jobs, medical history, nothing of much note.
The name of Luca Carlotti fired her interest. Luca Carlotti was a reputed mob kingpin out of New York, a man to be reckoned with. And now it turned out that Zane Marion Ricca was his nephew - what a connection!
No wonder Zane had been represented by the highest paid lawyers in town - Uncle Luca must have paid.
Kennedy sensed her story getting bigger and better. She sat down and started work.
Chapter Forty-Six
Hubert Potter had toiled as a private security guard on the Sanderson estate for almost eight years. It was a cushy job, nothing much happened except a few threatening letters every now and then, tourists driving up to the gate asking dumb questions, big dinner parties twice a year - and that was about it.
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