Searching for Harpies

by Charlie Vogel

  As the limo engine hummed to life, Ted grabbed my neck and bent me forward. Bruno stretched across him to push my hands behind my back. Once again handy-dandy duct tape held me in place. When I was about to sit up, a dark hood slid over my head.

  Feeling the car in motion, I tried to concentrate on sounds, but the damn padded interior was as silent as a tomb. So, I focused on picturing our turns and how long we moved straight ahead. The darkness of the hood disoriented me. My artist’s eye was used to cataloguing details. And Harpies almost took that sight away from me. “Bide your time,” Harry whispered. No one spoke. Through the hood I breathed in Godfrey’s Scat d’phern perfume. I wanted to stick a knife in her pride by telling her how cheap that scent was compared to what I bought Lori.

  Finally, the car stopped. Warm air mixed with the limo’s air-conditioning. I could tell the seating arrangement was changing.

  Godfrey called out, “Come on, Mom, get in the goddamn car.”

  A familiar voice answered, “No, you-you will hurt me.”

  “Come on, damn it. We don’t have all day. You have to come with me. I paid for tickets on a private jet. It takes off in two hours.”

  A sour-to-acrid odor mixed with cigarette smoke drifted through the hood.

  “I want to go home,” the voice whined. “I have to feed my babies.”

  “Your damn cats can find their own food.” Aha, Harriet Pierce! “Now, get in this car or one of these boys will beat the shit out of you and I’ll cheer them on.”

  As the doors thudded shut, I shifted my weight to ease my aching arms. As the doors thudded shut,

  “Put the air-conditioner on high, Bill. Fuck! When was the last time you bathed, Mom?”

  I said, “Hello, Harriet.”

  “What? Who said that?”

  “The guy in the black hood in the corner.”

  “I can’t see him. Has he been bad, too? I—I . . . Do I know you, mister?”

  “Mom, shut up. Mr. Norris, I had no idea you knew my mother.”

  “We’re old friends. Of course, her syphilis makes it hard for her to remember, doesn’t it?”

  “Okay, I got it. I prefer you not talk to her.”

  We stopped, probably for a traffic light.

  Believing the mic could still be working, I decided to push Godfrey. “So, you’re planning a trip?”

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re being rude to the man, Prissy. I taught you to be nice to men.”

  “Shut up, Mom!”

  Harriet must have flounced because the aroma of cats, cigarettes and unwashed female filled the air. I swallowed to keep from gagging then cleared my throat for another shot. “Since you’re kidnapping me, I think it is my business. Could you and your mother be leaving the country?”

  “Not leaving the country. I’m taking her to a hospital in New York. I’ll be returning in a few days. By that time, you and your brother should have the shipment delivered and Harpies will be happy enough to leave me alone.”

  “A hospital? A little late to treat tertiary syphilis. I mean, at this point there’s no cure for it. You know that don’t you?”

  “Yes, but at least they’ll bathe her, won’t they?”

  “Baths are bad for cats. My babies taught me that a long time ago. Didn’t I used to try to bathe them with you, Prissy?”

  Godfrey groaned. “Ted, add one of those little pills to that vodka for her.”

  “Oh, thank you, young man. You know bartenders make goddamn good money. I know somewhere you could apply. And the dancers will fuck you for free, won’t they Prissy?”

  “Mom, drink up and shut up.”

  I let the silence settle for a couple of heart beats. “So you’re not Harpies.”

  Harriet cackled. “Prissy? Harpies? Who told you that? Prissy’s a good girl who only hits me when I deserve it. Harpies will sooner kill ya, than—”

  “Mom? What did I say? You want me to take the drink away?”

  “Can I call you Pricilla?”

  “I don’t care, just not Prissy.”

  “You got yourself educated and worked into a respectable position. That took a lot of courage and counts for something. People respect that.”

  “Really, Mr. Norris? What fantasy land have you been living in? Most really, really society rich people don’t like to even look at people like Mom, let alone let their consciences force them to hear about street life. They don’t like reminders. I just paid off my school loans and now I have to take care of my mother. I was paddling my boat pretty good until you turned Harpies on me”

  “You needed the drug money.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What will you do if my brother refuses to help?”

  “I’ll watch you die then help Harpies find another source for the shipment. I’m in too deep.”

  “So, how much do you make in the laundry business?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Laundry business is hard work, Prissy. You’ll make more fucking. Trust me.”

  * * *

  Although the drapes hid the view of the outdoors, I knew the luxurious apartment had to be in one of the renovated warehouses in the Old Market area. The rumble of tires on the brick street below was a dead give-away. Though the remodeling had cleaned up the basic structures, the mold and dusty warehouse smell had been driven deep within the old brick walls for decades. I stared at the flame of the aromatic hazel wood candle flickering from a faint draft and dancing light on the rustic brick that stretched up to the expensive tin ceiling.

  Priscilla stepped into the living room and stood under the round arch of the doorway. “Harpies will be here shortly. I have to clean up my mother to make the plane on time. If I don’t see you again, I’ll assume you refused to cooperate. Good-bye, Mr. Norris.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll see you again. You can take the guards with you. I’m not going anywhere with the opportunity to finally meet Harpies.”

  She shook her head. “Do you always joke under stress?”

  “Stress? Do I look worried? I’m so happy I can hardly stand myself.”

  For the first time, she cracked a smile. It changed her face to almost pretty. There was a face I wanted to sketch. She turned, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, as she said, “The doors will be locked and Harpies’ people will be close by. Don’t think about jumping out the window. They don’t open and the glass won’t break.”

  A door opened and shut. The stillness was only broken by the distant traffic sounds. I counted to ten then stepped to the window to peek between the curtains. Why would someone paint the glass blue? My index finger tapped Curly now resting in my front pocket. “Window painted over, but by the looks of the interior, I’m somewhere in the Old Market, maybe about the third floor. Either the paint is thick dimming the sunlight or it’s facing north.”

  Of course, I had no way of knowing if the transmitter worked. I had to believe the others would find me, especially if Harpies was really going to do a face-to-face. I found the remote for the TV and turned it on then cranked the volume up to keep the mic transmitting. To help as much as possible, I returned to the window and pulled back the curtains. I just stood there, waiting and trying not to crawl out of my skin.

  “You look disappointed,” a female voice said.

  I turned then just stared at the petite blonde. Her cold expression certainly aged her. “Now I am. I expected Harpies to be much older.”

  “So do a lot of people.” She scooped up the TV remote. “In to watching cartoons are you?”

  “Not if I can see them in real life. So, you’re really Harpies?”

  “How many times must you ask? Too many blows to the head?”

  “You like that idea, don’t you? But, I’m just a little stunned imagining you as a wicked witch.”

  “Always the smart mouth. I assume you want to know why I call myself Harpies. I majored in religion. Ancient mythology especially fascinated me. I thought the name would be appropriate
for my business.”

  “Murder and drug trafficking are a business?”

  “World-wide. At least I’m intelligent enough to keep my nose out of things that don’t concern me. You, on the other hand, don’t care what you poke into.”

  “You’re the last person I’d poke my nose or anything else into.”

  “Good come back, old man. I’m sure Lori appreciates your discrimination.”

  I sat at a small table and leaned my head into the palm of my hand. “You made your business my concern when you framed a friend of mine for murder.”

  She took the chair opposite me. “You only knew Tommy through Harry and Lori.”

  “Well, I made Fr. Manning a friend.”

  “Ah, playing the I-respect-the-priest card. I placed my dear brother in jail to keep him safe and out of my hair. He stumbled too close to one of my working girls. He’s soft-hearted, but a smart man. It would have been just a matter of time before he discovered my operation. One of my friends works in the D.A’s office. He’s got the paperwork started to have Tommy released in a day or two.”

  “I guess I never knew your last name, Shannon.”

  “Since Tommy called me by my first name, that’s what I used at Bison, working for Harry. Friends sometimes called me Peg, from my middle name, Margaret.”

  “Did Harry know Tommy was your brother?’

  “Of course. Tommy gave him a sob story about me needing work and asked him to hire me. Harry was so easy to manipulate because he always wanted to believe the best of people.”

  “You rotten little bitch. Why did you have him killed?”

  “Oh, you figured out he was the target and not you? Clever. I wanted him out of the way. I was beginning to do more of my business from his office. Sooner or later, he would have connected the dots.” She slapped her hands on the table. “Bob, we’ve got the rest of the day to catch up on old times. Right now, I want you to call your brother and set up a business appointment. Tell him to meet me in the VIP lounge of the Chicago O’Hare airport. Eight p.m.”

  Though I didn’t feel like it, I chuckled just to annoy her. “Donald and I are not joining your army. We don’t need the money.”

  “I know, but you do need to keep breathing.” She shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you and Donald, of course. You’re all learning too much about me.”

  “I almost think you get your kicks from ending people’s lives.”

  “Oh, it’s a high for a second or two, without the long-term effects of drugs. I leave those to the ignorant people of the world. Now, sex lasts a little longer than the thrill-of-the-kill. I bet you’d be a good lay.”

  I choked and couldn’t control my horror. “Me? With you?”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m out of the mood now. My brain has to think of another way to get coke into the country. I’m open to suggestions. Give me a good one and I may not kill you.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. What a narcissistic, arrogant little bitch! “I have to wrap my mind around this. In exchange for my life, I have to come up with an idea to move your drugs . . . so you can continue to destroy other people’s lives? Before I even try, tell me how you plan to kill me and not have it connected to any of this. ”

  She slowly closed then opened her eyes, almost as if trying to seduce me. “Well, let’s see . . . I like this game. I think it would be fun if you told me how you wanted to die.”

  “I never thought about it. I assume you won’t want to kill me here.”

  “Of course not. Not in my home. Too messy. I might send you to Kansas City like you did my special friend, Fuzzy.”

  “It was Lori’s martial arts that killed him. You know any Karate? Oh, wait. You’d just want to watch and have one of your hired men do it.”

  “See? I knew you could fill in the details.”

  “Well, Harpies, I don’t think your game matters. I don’t have to play, because you just pulled the Go-directly-to-Jail card.”

  “I don’t think so. I have enough on people in the county attorney and district’s offices to keep me miles from any judge. Since you won’t cooperate . . .It’s time!” she called out.

  Two of large body builder types she favored opened the door to the kitchen and joined us in the living room. One motioned for me to stand up. I looked at Shannon “Harpies” Manning. “Are you joining us?”

  She opened her purse and took out a small caliber handgun then slid the chamber back and expertly loaded a round. “Before the finale. Right now, your girlfriend, Lori, is snooping around my front door. I’ll get the immediate pleasure of killing her myself. Double tap to the head should do it.”

  Yes, Curly worked! Please be listening, Lori.

  My escorts each took an arm so I had no other choice but to move with them. I thought to try to buy time for everyone to get in position, so leaned into a stop. “In this area of downtown, there’s a lot of streetwalkers. How do you know it’s Lori downstairs?”

  “You’re not the only one who can buy security cameras.” She palmed open the kitchen door and pointed to the monitors above a pantry. “Hm, she’s going back across the street. Guess I’ll have to go hunting.”

  I was jerked into motion back to the apartment’s front door and out into the deserted hallway. Since they didn’t bother to tie or blindfold me, I assumed they would try to kill me somewhere inside the building. At the far end of the passageway, the double doors to the elevator remained closed.

  Reaching the elevator, I saw the door to the fire extinguisher ajar. I ducked and spun toward it. As the two guards reacted, I grabbed the cylinder, pulled the pin and flipped up the short hose as I squeezed the operating lever. The soda-acid foam sprayed into the broad faces of both charging animals. Their hands flew up to protect their eyes but their stumbling and cursing told me I had scored. I gripped the extinguisher handle and swung the hefty cylinder at their legs taking them down. Before they could grab at me or regain their footing on the slippery, foam-covered floor, I ran to the marked stairs exit.

  Descending two stairs at a time, I reached the second floor before I heard the angry pursuit. I continued to the lower level marked Garage and slapped open the door. The door closed on the pounding footsteps just behind me. I shifted into high gear, my legs pumping by parked cars. Shots erupted. Bullets whizzed and thudded or ricocheted around me. I rolled over a car hood and lay flat on the pavement between two sets of tires. I rolled to my side to shout at Curly’s mic, “I’m in the underground garage. They’re shooting at me.”

  While I crawled towards the low concrete wall along the ramp, sounds of scuffling feet echoed. With my knees bent, I wedged myself between the rear bumper of a Toyota and the wall.

  Chains rattled and rollers squealed in a metal track as an overhead door opened. Don’t be an innocent bystander. Maybe a witness will stop them. I remained motionless. Tires screamed. More gunfire. Men yelled, a lot of men. Flashing red lights reflected off the low cement ceiling.

  Roy’s voice echoed, “Bob Norris, where are you at?”

  “Here!” I shouted upward to carry above the Toyota. “Give me a second. I’m trying to move, but I’m crammed behind a car. There were two chasing me. Where are they?”

  “Standing here in handcuffs, covered in sticky foam and looking really pissed.”

  I squirmed to the side then walked my hands up the wall to get to my feet. With my relief, the adrenalin rush took a nose-dive. My legs wobbled. I steadied myself on the Toyota to reach the garage aisle. Roy stood a few yards away facing a police cruiser, its red and blue lights reflecting off the sweat on his face. Four uniformed officers held my unhappy pursuers against the cruiser.

  Roy strolled toward me, smiling and shaking his head, “You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

  Just as he reached me, my knees went to jelly. The smile faded as he supported me until I could lean against the far side of the cruiser. His eyes searched me head-to toe.

  “You hit?”

  “Just shaky. Where’s Lori?
”

  “She’s looking for Shannon.”

  I pushed away to stand on my own. “We’ve got to help her. Shannon has security cameras—”

  “Not anymore,” he interrupted me. “One of the cops cut the electricity to the building. Lori’s still wired. She just told me she’s in the hallway of the third floor. She wants to know which door belongs to Harpies.”

  “About the second one from the missing fire extinguisher.” I saw the elevator nearby and started jogging. Over my shoulder I shouted, “Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Nothing happened when I pounded the Up button.

  “No electricity, Fr. Dumb Ass. Stairs!” Roy called as he passed me and yanked the door open.

  The dim emergency lights lit the stairwell as we panted our way up.

  Roy made my anxiety worse by pointing out, “Lori’s in the dark . . . in that fucking hallway.”

  “So’s Harpies.”

  “My money . . . is on Lori.”

  “Yep.”

  When the knob of the third floor door wouldn’t move, Roy slammed an angry fist against it then shoved me back. “I’ll see if my Desert Eagle can damage something.”

  “You mean shoot the lock?’

  “It’s done in the movies. I’ve seen John Wayne do it and my gun’s bigger.”

  Three booms later, a big hole replaced the doorknob and my ears rang like church bells on Christmas Eve. Crouching, we moved into the dark corridor. I motioned with my hand to the left. Roy raised his cannon by my face and moved ahead first.

  I had only gone a few steps when I heard Roy talking with Lori.

  A hand touched my chest. I grabbed it and Lori whispered, “Which goddamn apartment is she in?”

  “Hey, you sons a’ bitches!”

  A broad hand at my back pushed me hard. I tripped and fell over Lori as she screamed, “Fuck!” I held her down, covered by my body. She resisted. I didn’t care.

  Down the hall in front of us, a rat-tat-tat sounded with short bursts of white flashes. A boom and n orange flame burst above us. In the illumination I glimpsed Shannon holding an automatic rifle.