by Dan Glover
She should have known if anyone could find her, it'd be him. The man had a mission. She'd caused him a lot of pain, and now? It was his turn. He had a black valise with him. She watched as he began removing surgical instruments from it and setting them upon a white cloth he laid on the bedside table.
"You're in for a treat, Sally. Oh, I'm sorry about the gag but we don’t want any unnecessary screaming, now do we? Might alert the neighbors and we couldn’t have that. Maybe if you go to that happy place you told Lorraine Plummer about what I'm about to do won't hurt as badly. Need a minute? Sure you do. Tell you what: I'm going to wash up so we don't introduce any nasty little germs into your exposed flesh. We wouldn’t want you dying prematurely of infection."
She remembered watching a YouTube video on how a person could escape from plastic ties... the same kind Cooper used on her. Something about them having a weak spot a person could manipulate by stressing them crossways instead of futilely trying to break them with sheer force. Wiggling her wrists into an unnatural position and pushing outward only brought pain. She pressed harder feeling the straps cut into her flesh. Better that than the scalpel that glittered so close by.
Hell, what was she thinking? Rolling over twice she managed to gain the table, grab the scalpel in a hand now slick with blood, and a second later her hands were free. She could hear the water running in the attached bathroom. Any moment she expected Cooper to emerge with murder in his heart. She considered rolling back over and pretending she was still tied up but there was blood everywhere, probably a dead giveaway.
Instead she cut the strap holding her ankles, climbed from bed, and waited at the outside of the bathroom door. Cooper was far more physically adept than she so her only chance lay in surprise. The water kept running. Jesus, the guy must be one of those obsessive compulsive personalities. How long was he planning on washing those soft faggot hands of his?
Chapter 95—Take Me
(I'm Yours)
They were in Colorado and a weird looking woman with big gray hair and wrinkles everywhere was staring at them through the glass as if unsure whether to slam the door in their faces and call the police or to step back and allow them entry. The reflection of misty mountains looming behind them on the horizon lent Liza both a sense of home and a fear of what awaited the unwary out there in the unknown.
I was waiting for the miracle to come, Lizzi. That's why I didn’t run.
Oh, Lissi... I'm so sorry.
Her twin had awakened her out of a coma-like sleep and told her to climb out the window and down the drainpipe and run next door. The house was on fire. She needed to call the fire department.
But Lissi never followed. Had it all been but a dream? The coroner said how her twin sister died in her sleep... smoke inhalation from the flames downstairs started by the rags father had piled in a corner spontaneously combusting.
Their dad was the handyman type, forever fixing up the ancient Victorian where they lived. He'd spent all weekend sanding the old wood floors and then finishing them with a fresh coat of epoxy. Hadn't anyone ever told him that cloth coated in flammables could erupt into flames if piled on top of one another?
A thousand kisses deep, Lissi.
"Are you related to Sally Lupo, Ms. McNairy? Is that why you're here?"
"No ma'am. We're private detectives hired by her husband. She disappeared and naturally he's worried something happened to her. Have you heard from her at all?"
"No... it's rare for any of my girls to keep in touch. But I dare say... you're the second person this week to stop by here looking for the woman. She must be popular."
"Oh? Was it a man or a woman?"
"A young man... went by the name of Randy or something like that. Soft hands. Like a girl... I gathered he didn’t work much. Inquisitive sort. Made me nervous. I was glad when he left."
"Could the name have been Reilly?"
"Yes, of course that's it. Reilly. Do you know him?"
"We do. Did you share any information with him?"
"Why, yes. Like I said, the man made me uneasy. I told him that Sally Lupo once fantasized about living in Hawaii... just to get him to leave."
"Is that right, Ms. Plummer? Did you tell him the truth?"
"I didn’t see the harm. In fact, I got the impression he'd know if I was lying to him. I didn’t want to go there, Ms. McNairy. Despite his manners Reilly has a look about him... you know the sort... no one to be trifled with. I hope I didn’t put Sally in harm's way."
"No, I don’t think so, Ms. Plummer. Thank you for sharing that information with us too."
"Well, lover man... unless you grow a set of wings, I don't see how we're getting to the Big Island. Maybe I can feed you some knockout drops before the flight and carry you aboard the plane in my luggage."
"There's no reason for us to go to Hawaii, Sister Sue. Reilly is already there. Whatever is going to happen already has."
"Is she in trouble, Danners?"
"Maybe... I'm guessing Reilly will relieve her of her ill gotten gains, but that might well be the least of her worries. She did put the man into intensive care for more than a week."
"What would you do if you had just a shit load of money, Danners?"
"Why, I'd lure you to Las Vegas, get you terribly drunk, and talk you into marrying me, Liza."
"You wouldn’t have to lure me anywhere, Danners. Just take me. I'm yours, you know."
Chapter 96—War
(Or Something Like It)
1
He'd been a soldier and he'd been a detective and he'd been shot at a dozen times before. This was different, though. Instead of tracking an enemy combatant or arresting a perp, he was hunting one of his own. A dirty cop, sure, but so was he. They were both Sicilian... their families went back to at least the 15th century. Their fathers had forged alliances, their grandfathers, and even farther back in time.
Hank felt like a traitor to his own kind but what choice did the Captain give him? Kill or be killed... that's how the vendettas had worked from time immemorial. Nothing changed. Even three generations removed from that sick fuck of an island they were still savages at best.
When Danners Forthright called, Hank thought it was a joke. Liza McNairy, kidnapped? And by none other than Roy Presti? No fucking way. Turned out Forthright wasn’t kidding around at all. What's more, he didn’t want to involve the authorities anymore than Hank.
"There isn’t time, Hank. We need to go after them now. Liza'll be dead if we don't."
That was good enough for Hank Lupo. So that's why the Captain had been acting so squirrelly lately... wondering about McNairy and Forthright and how much they knew. He suspected they'd cracked the case wide open and that Roy Presti was the next man standing to go down.
And then there was the message from Elsa the prostitute... how Presti had plans on keeping it all for himself. Like hell. It was time to step up to the plate ready to swing away. He'd be damned if he was going to strike out looking.
"I dropped Liza off at Presti's office, Hank. But she never came out. When I went in after her, the place was deserted. I tracked Liza's phone... she was moving to the north northeast, fast. Like someone was in a hurry. She'd never go on her own... not without first telling me. That asshole kidnapped her."
"How much do you know about Roy Presti, Danners?"
"Not much... why?"
"Let's just say he's a dangerous man when cornered, and from the sound of it you and Liza painted him into one. You're lucky he didn’t snatch you too."
"He knows I'll come after Liza."
"Yeah, but he won't be expecting me... will he?"
The Captain was smart. Even though he told Danners to hunker down and tried feigning nonchalance the man must have read Hank's mind when he drove up to the hacienda outside of Trona. Presti pulled an AK-47 out of the front seat of the Jeep Comanche 4x4 parked in front of the house and unloaded on the truck. He was lucky. One shot grazed his forehead and flying glass cut up his cheek pretty good but otherwise he was
unscathed. The engine of his Dodge Ram absorbed the brunt of the attack and a second later the Captain was off hightailing it across the desert trailing a cloud of sand behind him. But where was Liza?
Danners Forthright surprised the hell out of him. While he was cowering under dash of the Ram, the little queer crawled out the passenger side of truck with the shotgun Hank kept behind the seat and opened fire on the Captain. Scatterguns weren’t much use from a distance but they sure played havoc on machinery. Danners had pumped at least six shots into the Captain's vehicle and Hank reckoned it wouldn’t go far before overheating in the hundred and ten degree desert. The Ram wouldn’t last long either but fuck it. If he didn’t take the Captain down now it'd never happen.
The man had an army at his disposal... crooked cops and mercenaries who made a living off such affairs. Despite their shared heritage they'd kill without hesitation. Presti was doubtlessly calling or texting even now for backup. Lupo figured he had an hour to finish things... maybe less. Once that posse showed up they'd show no quarter.
The AK was a fine weapon
2
But it lacked range. Things were hit or miss after a hundred yards. Of course Presti might have other firepower along with him... Hank did. As they bounced along the rutted road he watched as Danners traded the fully automatic shotgun for the Springfield Armory Scout hanging behind the seat. The man should've started out with it.... the self-reloading rifle was as serious a firepower as existed in the United States military, or so he thought.
"Have you got Liza on your phone, Danners?"
"She's just ahead of us, Hank. She must be in the back of Presti's Jeep. You better slow down. He's liable to do something stupid if he thinks we're catching up to him."
He hated to admit it but Danners was right. Dammit. He couldn’t get Liza McNairy killed... not like this. On the other hand, Presti wasn’t going to give up until either he was dead or they were... the three of them. This was bad business. He should've warned McNairy about the Captain. But hell, he should've warned lots of folks.
Presti had abandoned his vehicle in the middle of what served as a road. The terrain reminded Hank of pictures beamed back from the surface of Mars and the heat... how long could anyone survive out here without water? A day? Maybe two? He had a one liter bottle on the seat beside him. The odds were Presti came more prepared. But hopefully they'd end this skirmish as quickly as it started. The man wasn't leaving here, not alive.
Judging from the copious amount of antifreeze pooled beneath it the Jeep had overheated and died. Scanning the interior showed no sign of Liza or the AK. The Captain had to have them both with him yet. That didn’t mean he lacked other armaments but Hank would rather come up against one man with an AK instead of a dozen of them. Saturation mode... that was the key to killing with that weapon.
"Let me see that rifle for a minute, Danners."
Resting it on the hood of the Jeep and sighting through the scope on the Springfield Hank spotted movement about a thousand yards off leading into the north country. The pinnacles. Too far for a clean shot but at least he knew what direction to go. The Ram was surprisingly resilient. Even full of bullet holes it still kept going though deep down Hank thought he could hear an ominous knock beginning. Probably lack of oil. That motherfucker killed his truck. One more reason to put the bastard down.
"I heard you were a Ranger in the military, Danners. Is that right?"
"Yes it is. Military sniper."
"Here's the rifle back. If you get a shot at Presti, take it."
Presti seemed to be making his way toward four small hills that reminded Hank of the knuckles on a clenched fist. He could see a second figure lagging behind, as if tethered to him. He'd heard of the pinnacles and now it looked like he was about to get personal with them. The spires sprouted up out of the desert floor like some weird alien structures built a million years ago by extraterrestrials. Presti and Liza were heading towards a conglomeration of towers some one hundred feet high. If they made it to the top Presti could see anyone coming for miles. But Hank doubted Presti had the sack to try and climb those crazy towers... no, he'd hide out at the base and wait.
Chapter 97—Poor Man
(Rich Man)
Despite his yen for revenge he couldn’t do it... not to an unarmed woman, even if she did poison him. Taking all that money was sweet, though. Hell, there had to be millions. Four suitcases stuffed with hundreds, fifties, and twenties. Now he had to make sure to find a quiet place without cell service where he could hide out until they all sickened of looking for him. McNairy and Danners would get involved. That's what they did. Hell, he couldn’t blame them. He would too. How often did anyone have the chance to make a score like that?
He could bury it. Not all together, but in different spots. Get some big iron pirate chests that were waterproof and impervious to weather. No sense though in taking chances that someone might see him digging and come back later. No. He had to find a place to lay up, count it, and make a decision based on logical thought rather than playing buccaneer.
Was the cash marked? It'd be his luck it was. And what if someone had the foresight to stash a locator beacon inside one or more of the suitcases? That wouldn’t do. They'd come on him in the middle of the night, and with his luck, it wouldn’t be McNairy and Forthright. Instead, it'd be Lupo.
That man gave him the shivers. Black eyes, like a shark. The kind of eyes without a trace of feeling in them. Reilly'd heard the rumors. Lupo was connected, as in mob. Of course that might just have been talk but somehow he doubted it. Nope. If Hank Lupo came after him, he had to be prepared to kill the man. If of course he was afforded the opportunity.
Maybe he ought to offer to share the money with McNairy and Forthright in exchange for their help. But were they up for killing a sheriff's detective... even if he was dirty? No, there was too much riding on this. It'd be better to buy a little place off the grid, sort of like Osama Bin Laden had done. Hell, that man would still be living the high life if he hadn’t fucked up and used the internet. Led them right to his silly ass. He couldn’t let that happen to him.
But what kind of life would that be? He liked the city lights and pretty boys. Hell, he'd always heard of hiding in plain sight. Maybe that was the key. Buy himself a penthouse in New York City, just as far from the west coast as possible without going nuts and leaving the country all together. They had co-ops out there that were anonymous, or so he heard. He could set up a blind trust so no one could trace his name, pay cash. Yeah, it was unorthodox but he'd let the money do the talking. People always listened when cash was involved.
Even though his whole life was on his phone it was easy enough to ditch it. He'd backed up all his information to a cloud server that not only could be accessed from anywhere but it had sophisticated end-to-end encryption that made it virtually impossible to hack into. If anyone had ideas of locating him using his own technology they'd be disappointed. On second thought, perhaps it'd be best to disable the locator app software he'd given out. Just to be sure.
His biggest problem was getting the cash back to the mainland. How did Sally Lupo manage to bypass airline security when she traveled to Hawaii? If any TSA agent found four suitcases loaded with cash it would have been confiscated and Sally'd probably end up in the can. Yet she made it here. She must have hired a private plane. Sure... that had to be the ticket. What did it matter if it cost a hundred thousand dollars? And he was sure he could find someone willing to fly him home for a tenth of that.
Chapter 98—The End
(With No New Beginnings)
1
The man was too quick. When he saw Hank Lupo drive up, Roy Presti knew why he was there. Rather than turning and fleeing, however, he waved and smiled at the man, motioning him over. When he got within striking range, Roy didn’t hesitate. In one motion he leaned into the Jeep, extracted the loaded AK-47, and opened fire.
Another man would have been caught out by the subterfuge but not Lupo. He probably expected just such
a greeting. After all, he'd never come to Trona before, even when Roy invited him to make a weekend of it. Lupo claimed a fear of snakes but that too was just a charade.
If not for the second man with Lupo, Roy figured he'd gotten the best of things. But Danners Forthright surprised him by emerging from the other side of the Ram and opening fire with a shotgun. No talk. No negotiations. Just a hail of buckshot. Hell, he didn’t seem to care who he hit. Maybe he thought McNairy was already dead.
Not only had they come for Liza McNairy they'd come for him. Alive or dead. To end it. Dammit. He should've known that the queer was waiting close by for McNairy when she showed up alone at the Sheriff's Department. It'd been a gamble and he'd lost. He could still salvage things, though. Once he got Hank and Forthright, there'd be time for a little fun with McNairy before he planted her.
Still, here he was, trapped in the mountains with no water and only a limited supply of ammunition. Dammit all. He should have cached weapons and survival gear out here. He'd planned on it but the need always seemed so remote that he never actually got around to doing it. Now, he realized he'd made a serious mistake... one that might well cost him his life.
The blood loss was negligible but the wounds made things even worse. Hell, even if he found water he was finished. Not only could Lupo and Forthright track them with ease using the blood trail, unless he could extract the pellets from that goddamned scatter gun, he'd develop an infection within days and die without proper treatment. He'd have to finish them all off quickly and get back to civilization. Otherwise he was done.
But Hank Lupo wasn’t some snot-nosed rookie just out of the academy. The man was seasoned. Hell, Roy would rather fight a pack of wildcats than to tangle with Lupo. If only he'd gotten the drop on him to start with it'd be over by now. Instead of scampering across rocks and dodging cacti he'd be digging another grave.
