The Heart of the Jungle

by Jeremy Pack

  "Chris and I are investigating the disappearance of his daughter and Michael Blake."

  Cross sobered and nodded thoughtfully. "You mentioned something like that on the phone. Although I'm not sure how you think I can help." His blond eyebrows pinched together. "I can tell you I wasn't sorry to see that son of a bitch gone---sorry, Chris. You know he tried to crucify me in the courtroom." Cross flicked his eyes in Chris's direction sheepishly. "He may have had his redeeming qualities, but he spent none of them on me, I can assure you."

  Chris nodded in understanding and sipped his drink. Jason watched the interchange with satisfaction and steeled himself to deliver the next blow. He took a deep breath, leveled his gaze at Cross, and said, "I have evidence that Brunner was involved in his disappearance."

  Cross's entire demeanor changed instantly. The mention of the hated name was enough to send him into a blind rage. "Brunner," he sputtered. "That conniving, ruthless piece of shit." He pushed himself away from the table, looking as though filth had been thrown at him.

  Jason suppressed a small smile of victory. He had been counting on the fact that Cross still nursed a grudge, and his hunch had just panned out better than he'd expected.

  "Seems like the kind of thing that sicko would do," Cross said, his anger mellowing to a slow rolling boil. "I don't know where he is, if that's what you think. Believe me, if I did, I'd serve his head to you on a silver platter."

  Jason fixed his eyes firmly on Cross's. "What do you know about the Heart of the Jungle?" he asked.

  "Which jungle?" Cross asked.

  "I'm not sure. Michael and Brunner mentioned something about getting to the Heart of the Jungle, and I thought you might have some idea what they meant."

  Cross considered for a few minutes and then shrugged. "Lots of jungles in South America where Brunner had some drug contacts," he offered. "Maybe they were talking about that."

  Jason shook his head. "No, they were very specific. They said they needed Chris's daughter to get to the Heart of the Jungle."

  Cross looked over at Chris with sympathy in his eyes. He shook his head. "If it's some kind of code, it isn't one I've ever heard of. I'm sorry."

  Jason searched his expression for some sign he was holding back, but could find none. Apparently, he was telling the truth. It was time to switch tactics. Time for manipulation.

  He traced his finger along the tabletop, keeping his eyes on Cross.

  This next part was the delicate bit. To get Cross to give up the kind of information they were looking for, they were going to have to get him to confess to dealing with some unsavory people and that he'd perjured himself in the courtroom.

  Jason looked over at Chris, and his eyes filled with sorrow. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child. Neither one of us can guess at the kind of hell Chris must have been through. Not knowing."

  Cross followed Jason's speech, and he too turned sympathetic eyes on Chris. Jason knew exactly which buttons to push, and he wielded that skill now as he played Cross like a well-tuned instrument.

  "You have two young daughters, don't you?" Jason asked, setting the hook firmly.

  Cross gasped. Jason could almost follow the direction of his thoughts as he watched the expressions play across Cross's face. Chris had shared with him that Jacqueline and Miranda, Cross's two daughters, were the center of his universe. He loved them more than life itself. It only took a small nudge for him to imagine losing them and knowing that Brunner had something to do with it. Even as Jason watched, he could see the hatred intensify.

  Seizing the ripeness of the moment, Jason ceased his tabletop tracery and fixed Cross with an iron gaze. "I believe you when you say you don't know where Brunner is, but that's not what I'm here for. I know how much you hate him, and I can't say I blame you."

  Cross seemed to realize what kind of snare Jason had set for him, and he fidgeted restlessly. He knew an unspoken question was being asked, and he was caught between the lies he'd already told and the realization that he might finally have the ability to stick it to Brunner.

  There were long minutes of tense, expectant silence as Cross grappled with indecision. He finally surrendered. He cleared his throat and signaled to the waiter for another drink. "Better make it a scotch, double and straight up, Danny."

  After Danny delivered the drink, Cross downed it in one great gulp.

  He slammed the tumbler onto the table, took a deep breath, and dabbed perspiration from his brow before speaking. "You realize I'm about to stick my neck out?"

  Jason nodded. "I understand why you would feel that way." He paused, thinking of a way to ease the man's mind. "But Chris and me... we're not the cops. Whatever you tell us stays with us."

  Chris stared at Jeff Cross intently, his body rigid, every fiber tuned into what was about to be said. Jason couldn't begin to decipher how he was feeling, but he could read uneasiness on his features. He winked reassuringly as if to say don't worry, everything is going to be fine.

  Cross swiped again at the perspiration he couldn't seem to control, and as Jason watched, he worked his index finger under the collar of his shirt and pulled it away from his neck. He cleared his throat, stared at the empty scotch glass, and finally, sensing that there was no escape, focused on Jason. "You think Brunner kidnapped the girl? Maybe needed to offload her?"

  Jason didn't respond. He was doing his best to hold Cross's gaze, but he was torn between watching the man for duplicity and keeping an eye on Chris's reaction.

  "I'd be willing to bet," Cross continued, toying with his glass, "you're looking for a woman named Hopkins." His face turned a deeper shade of red. "She runs an escort service in Vegas. Even though prostitution isn't completely illicit there, Hopkins has good reasons for not wanting anyone peeking under her skirts. She specializes in the hard-to-please cases---powerful men who get off on stuff that isn't exactly pretty."

  Jason asked, "What does that mean?"

  "Power, domination, danger. These men have everything money can buy, and they like to hurt, control... sometimes worse."

  Jason was starting to get the picture. He'd heard of such a trade, and the thought sickened him. "She lets these girls die?"

  "Not that she'd admit to. Wouldn't be easy to find merchandise if word got out, now would it? But she does have a tendency to... overlook it when her clients get carried away."

  Jason could see the revulsion and horror on Chris's face. Living his quiet, law-abiding lifestyle, Chris apparently wasn't aware of some of the more contemptible acts of which men were capable. Jason had been hardened to it from his time in the FBI, but he could remember what it was like to be mortified to discover all the varieties of evil that existed outside of cheap horror flicks.

  Having admitted to something he kept carefully concealed, Cross seemed to be feeling the pressure. Jason knew he would give up some secrets, but he had a limit. He could sense Cross was toeing the line in the shifty roaming of his eyes. He was holding something back, though, something that was causing him a great deal of discomfort. Jason had seen this evasive expression a hundred times or more. "There's something you're not telling me," he accused.

  Cross nodded and took a deep breath. "I don't want to alarm you, but if Hopkins is involved, there's another possibility you should prepare yourself for. She's brokered baby deals before, but she's done other things too... worse things. Not all of her clients get their kicks from slapping some poor hooker around. Some of them---"

  Jason sucked in his breath and held up his hand, imploring Cross to be silent. He hadn't considered the possibility that Hopkins had kept Brianna for herself as a plaything for her sick clientele. "I think I've heard enough."

  Cross's mouth clamped shut, and the glass tumbler rattled against the table in time with his trembling hand. "I pray to God that's not what happened," he said in a weak voice. "Not even eternal damnation is good enough punishment for that."

  "What's he talking about?" Chris asked.

  Jason shook his head in reply. It was best
not to give voice to what Cross was insinuating. Better if they didn't even consider it. It would most certainly be too much for Chris to take.

  "I think Chris and I have taken enough of your time," Jason said, coming to his feet, anxious to get away. "Hopkins, you said her name was?"

  "She has a penthouse on Paradise over her nightclub. I don't know how the hell you plan on getting close to her, but her bookie is named Gunther, and he's usually hanging around the bar. He's got a jagged scar on his face, on the left side."

  Chris broke in. "Somebody had better explain this to me. I'm not a complete idiot. There's something you're not telling me."

  Cross stood and fixed Chris with a soft, compassionate stare. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you. I really hope your daughter is okay."

  Chris glared. "You know this woman. What's your opinion?"

  "I never said I know that monster," Cross protested. "I know of her, that's all."

  Jason reached his hand across the table and touched Chris reassuringly. "Cross only deals in information, Chris. He just keeps facts. He's not guilty."

  "Fine. But you don't just let this kind of stuff go. If this woman is as evil as you say she is and you didn't do anything to try to stop her, in my book that's guilty enough."

  Time to go. Jason stood abruptly. Chris was losing his cool.

  Jeffrey Cross's mouth gaped open. His eyes widened, and his face paled visibly.

  Jason drug Chris out of his seat and herded him toward the door.

  They'd gotten what they had come for, and things were heading rapidly south. Chris's last comment had been spoken loudly enough that the few patrons scattered about their vicinity started to cast curious glances in their direction.

  "I want to know what you think she did with my daughter," Chris said, jerking himself out of Jason's steel grip.

  "Come on," Jason said, reestablishing his hold on Chris's arm.

  "And you"---Chris jerked away and glared---"stop grabbing me.

  This is my child we're talking about here. I want answers, goddamn it."

  "Now is not the time."

  Chris broke away and marched up to Cross. He poked a finger sharply into the man's chest. "What the hell do you think she did with my daughter?" He was riding the edge of hysteria. He was trembling, his face awash in the sanguine tones of unrestrained rage.

  Michael wasn't there, Brunner wasn't there, the Hopkins woman wasn't there, but Jason and Cross were. They served as proxies for the real players, living people he could shower with blame and recrimination.

  Jason knew he viewed this as his moment of reckoning. Someone was going to pay. Recognizing the danger, he moved to intervene.

  "Listen to me," Jason shouted, grabbing Chris's arm again and pulling him around. He stared directly into his eyes. "Nobody knows. We don't even know she was involved. Pull it together."

  Cross was smiling apologetically to his patrons, anxious to get Chris and Jason out the door. He had the frantic look of a gazelle that had been tagged for dinner by a pride of savannah lions.

  Chris stared daggers at Cross around the blocking bulk of Jason's body. "If this woman has harmed my daughter in any way, I'll hold you to account. You knew all about the horrible things she's done, and you did nothing. You could have stopped her." Jason pulled him forcefully toward the exit as the tirade continued. "Think about my daughter when you close your eyes at night, damn you. Think about her!"

  Chris was still shouting as the door closed behind them, and they came to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. When Jason was sure Chris had regained enough composure not to rush back in and continue the harassment, he loosened his grip. "That could have had a happier ending," he scolded.

  Chris wrenched fully out of Jason's grasp and glared.

  "It's a shitty thing that's happened to you, but you have to realize that blaming Cross isn't going to accomplish anything. Save it for Brunner, and for Michael."

  Chris took several deep breaths. Now that his passion had cooled, he had the good grace to blush in shame. "You're right." He shook his head as though trying to clear it after a hard blow. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost it like that."

  Jason smiled softly in understanding. "Cross is a jerk. He's probably got it coming." He motioned toward the end of the pier.

  "C'mon, let's get out of here."

  With one last glance toward the restaurant, Chris followed.

  "WATSON here," the giant, swarthy man said into his cell phone.

  "We've got a problem."

  He stood in the afternoon shadow of the restaurant, leaning casually against an oiled post, watching as Chris and Jason walked away.

  "Elaborate" was the reply.

  "I've been following your birdie, and he's just flown out of Lafferty's on the pier."

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Continue." The tone was carefully neutral. He'd never met his employer face to face, and he really didn't care to. The money kept coming, and that was good enough for him.

  "I didn't hear that much of the conversation, but Cross must have spilled something. He may have pointed a finger in your direction."

  Once more, there was silence. "This is unfortunate. Opinion?"

  "Cross knows too much. Best if we shut him up."

  "Agreed."

  "And your birdie?"

  "Needs another nudge---we've waited long enough."

  The man's eyes tracked toward his retreating quarry. "His new friend, maybe?"

  "Perhaps." There was a pause. "Yes, that might be just the thing. Be creative. Surprise me. The more... spectacular, the more of an impression it will make."

  "Understood."

  He snapped the phone closed and pocketed it. He'd become accustomed to these brief, enigmatic conversations, but they still unnerved him. Nonetheless, he wasn't being paid to be chummy.

  From the same pocket where he'd deposited the phone, he withdrew a pack of Camel cigarettes, lit one, and drew on it deeply. So much for catching the ball game tonight. He had work to do.

  Chapter 7

  "I'M going with you." Chris's jaw was set as he stared at Jason across the counter in his kitchen.

  "Chris, for the tenth time, it's just not a good idea. What if Brunner is keeping an eye on your movements?"

  "So what?" He stood and paced in nervous agitation. "Let him know I'm coming for him, let him squirm."

  "That's exactly what we don't want."

  "Damn it." Chris slammed his fist onto the granite countertop.

  "Why not?"

  Jason sighed. "What if he has your daughter? Do you really want to make him nervous?"

  This drew Chris up short. He paused in his pacing and looked at Jason through wide eyes. "What do you think he'd do?"

  "A wild animal is much more dangerous when it's cornered."

  "You don't think he'd hurt her?"

  "It's possible. More likely, he'll run. Right now, as far as he knows, you are still in the dark. Best if we keep it that way for as long as possible. All of this will be much easier if Brunner doesn't get spooked."

  Chris leaned against the counter for support. His legs felt like water, and his stomach churned. What if Brunner already has a tail on me?

  What if our visit to Cross was noticed? What if he already knows we're onto him?

  As if Jason could read his mind, he said soothingly, "Wouldn't make sense to keep tabs on you 24/7. He's probably doing check-ins from time to time. Watching for an obit... if your theory is right."

  Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. How could he just sit here and do nothing? After ten agonizing months, the pieces might be starting to fall into place, and Jason expected him to just twiddle his thumbs and wait for the outcome? He couldn't do it.

  "Are we agreed?"

  He opened his eyes. "Do I have a choice?" He already knew the answer from the stubborn set to Jason's jaw. He looked at his hands on the countertop in frustration. "I just don't know if I can stand the w
aiting."

  Jason reached out and tilted his chin upward. "You've done nothing but wait for the past ten months. Isn't it just a little bit easier for you, knowing that this time you might actually get some answers?"

  A single tear traced a course down Chris's cheek. Jason's eyes filled with compassionate tenderness as he said, "I promise you, I will do everything I can to make this right for you."

  Chris mustered a wan, grateful smile. Without quite realizing what was happening, he found himself wrapped tightly in Jason's arms, pressed close to his lithe, powerful body. As they came together, the planes and angles of their forms aligned as if they had been made to fit one another.

  Though he was shocked by this wanton surrender, his body was responding to a much deeper need. Intimacy, the touch of another human being---these were comforts he'd not been afforded for a very long time.

  Strangely, this moment transcended any closeness he'd ever known.

  He knew he should rail against it and put down this raw emotion.

  He knew, but once ensnared, he could not find the will to break free.

  As Jason's presence gathered around him like a summer rain, Christian James gave in fully to the agony he'd endured not only since his world had fallen apart, but all the wrongs that had come before. He let go of all the unfulfilled needs he'd ever known and clung fiercely to the surcease of intimate touch.

  As much as he could take, Jason gave measure for measure. As tightly as he dared to cling, Jason held that much more tightly. The rapid staccatos of their hearts were the only sounds in the universe that mattered. They were separate and apart from the world they inhabited.

  They were caught up in a moment they both needed and they both feared.

  Time had no meaning, but Chris finally summoned the courage to move away. Though the emptiness between them drew at him like a singularity, he resisted the pull. He'd been far too careless. Jason could not be an anchor for him, nor he for Jason. Not with so much uncertainty ahead.

  A deeper part of him realized that he had been irrevocably changed.