Lethal Measures

by Leonard Goldberg

  That will take time, Eva was thinking, and by then you’ll be dead.

  “Alice never used her maiden name on anything. You know that.”

  “But they’re going to check on everybody fifty ways from Sunday.”

  “Let them,” Eva said, sounding unconcerned.

  “You’re squeaky clean and you’ll stay that way. And after the big bang all the evidence will say your colleague did it, and he won’t be here to defend himself.”

  “But there won’t be any solid proof he did it.”

  “Sure there will. Particularly when they find the C-four we planted in his garage at home.”

  “Jesus! You did that?”

  “Of course. Do you think we’d leave you uncovered?”

  “Never. Never for a moment,” he said appreciatively.

  Eva could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. Just a few more days, she thought.

  Just hold those idiots together for six more days.

  “So everything is in place, right?”

  “Yes,” the contact said.

  “But I think we have another problem. A big one.”

  “What?”

  “Joanna Blalock.”

  Eva heard a loud roaring over the phone that gradually faded.

  “What was that?”

  “A jet taking off. This pay phone is near the Santa Monica Airport.”

  “You were talking about Joanna Blalock. What’s the problem?”

  “She knows too much, and she’s going to lead the cops right to us.” The contact swallowed audibly.

  “She and the big detective are doing all the questioning, but it’s Blalock who is showing him the way. I can feel her closing in on us.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like asking me questions about Ramon Gonzalez and his prosthesis and how it was made and who fitted him for it.”

  “So?” “She focused in on the prosthesis and the machinery that made it,” the contact went on.

  “She spent twenty minutes in that machine room, talking with me and the others. If she would have had one of those dogs that can sniff out explosives with her, the dog would have gone crazy. And that would have been the end of our plan.”

  “But she didn’t have a dog.”

  “But the Secret Service will. And Joanna Blalock is scheduled to meet with them tomorrow afternoon.” The contact paused as another plane roared overhead.

  “I’m telling you, one more good clue and Joanna Blalock will put everything together.”

  “Sprinkle cayenne pepper around the room,” Eva said, thinking quickly.

  “You don’t need a lot. A few grains here and there will do it.”

  “Will that cover the smell?”

  “For a while.” Eva knew that the pepper would distract the dogs and throw them off, but the well-trained ones would eventually sniff out the C-4. “What time is the meeting between Blalock and the Secret Service agents?”

  “Sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Sprinkle the pepper around the machinery tonight. And remember, use very small amounts.”

  “What about Joanna Blalock?”

  “If necessary, I can see to it that she doesn’t ask you or anyone else any more questions.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” the contact told her.

  “Somebody took a shot at her yesterday as she was leaving Ramon Gonzalez’s apartment. Now there’s a cop by her side wherever she goes.”

  “You know this for a fact?”

  “Me and everybody else at Memorial.” The contact took a deep breath.

  “It wasn’t you, huh?”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Anyhow, you’ll have a tough time getting close.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve got a picture of you.”

  “What!” Eva’s heart stopped for a moment, then began racing.

  “Wh-what kind of picture?”

  “A sketch done by a police artist,” the contact said.

  “Luckily, you were wearing a wig. Otherwise the sketch would have

  really been close.” “Could you still recognize me?”

  “I could,” the contact said.

  “But I’m not sure others would. At least not on first glance. They’ve got your cheekbones too high and your mouth a little too wide.”

  “So it’s just a semblance?”

  “Yeah. But somewhere, somebody saw you.”

  Who? Eva asked herself, her mind racing for an answer. She always wore disguises and different wigs when she went to a new place, and that should have been good enough to Eva pressed the phone to her ear.

  “What kind of wig was I wearing in the sketch?”

  “Your hair was pulled back in a bun.”

  Eva’s eyes narrowed as she thought back. She had worn that wig twice, and both times were at Memorial Hospital. Once when she scouted out the Pathology Department and once when she blew it up. She now remembered passing Joanna Blalock in the corridor while checking out the forensics area.

  “Did Joanna Blalock have anything to do with the sketch?”

  “I don’t know,” the contact said.

  “All I was told was that the person in the sketch was believed to be the individual responsible for the Memorial bombing.”

  It had to be Joanna Blalock, Eva thought. No one else had looked me straight in the face. But how could she have known what I was planning? Maybe Blalock had compared notes with others, like the cop in the lobby or the technician who had stuck her head out into the corridor. But it was Joanna Blalock who had gotten the best look, and it was Joanna Blalock who could pick Eva out of a lineup.

  “Joanna Blalock,” Eva said sourly to herself.

  “You think she’s at the bottom of this too?”

  “I think she’s at the bottom of everything.”

  “She could screw everything up.”

  “If we let her.”

  “And there’s one more thing that may or may not be a problem.”

  “What?” Eva asked irritably.

  “I heard a rumor that the dedication of the new institute may take place on the steps,” the contact said.

  “That’s where they may present the medals as well.”

  “What medals?”

  Eva listened carefully to the details of how the Medals of Freedom

  would be presented by the President to Joanna Blalock and her colleagues.

  “Are you saying the President may not actually go into the new building?”

  “That’s the rumor I heard.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Eva said. All of their plans to assassinate the President depended on him entering and touring the new institute.

  “So the medal presentation will be a part of the dedication ceremony, right?”

  “That’s how it seems. Apparently the Secret Service is antsy about the President’s visit to Los Angeles. They want to combine everything into one and get him in and out as fast as possible.”

  Eva tried to think through the problem. The presentation was the key. If the medals were presented on the steps, the President wouldn’t be going inside.

  “Can you find out for sure where the medals are being presented?”

  “I tried, but nobody has a clue. I don’t think anybody knows.”

  “Well, I know one person who should know.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll call you back when I have the information.”

  Eva hung up and hurried out of the shopping mall. Damn! Damn! she cursed under her breath as she turned onto the street where her house was located. Her problems were mounting. If the President didn’t enter the building, it would really complicate matters. They could probably still blow him up, but it would be messy, and there was a real chance they would miss. No, she thought, we need the President inside the building for a sure kill. Damn! Damn! And to make matters even worse, now there was a sketch of her being circul
ated to every cop within a fifty-mile radius. And they would no doubt show it on the television news programs too. The short-term consequences of the picture concerned her the most. She would have to be very, very careful with her disguises from now on.

  And only go out when she absolutely had to. The long-term consequences didn’t bother her. After the assassination she had already planned to fly to Costa Rica and have plastic surgery done. She would have a whole new identity and all the money she would ever need. Her father, the leader of the Ten Righteous, would see | to that.

  Eva walked up the steps to the house and went through the door Rudy had opened for her.

  “Close it,” she snapped.

  “What’s wrong?” Rudy asked. “Plenty.” Eva stomped back to the kitchen, thinking how best to deal with Rudy. The idiot! The stupid idiot! She leaned over the sink and splashed water on her face, then dried her cheeks with a hand towel. Slowly Eva turned to Rudy, her temper now under control.

  “Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

  Rudy was instantly on guard.

  “I had to pick up some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, cigarettes and razor blades. That sort of thing.”

  “That took a couple of hours, huh?”

  “I drove around for a while too.”

  Eva threw the hand towel aside.

  “Did you take a shot at Joanna Blalock yesterday?”

  “Not me,” Rudy said at once and vigorously shook his head.

  “Hell, no! Why would I do that?”

  Eva could tell by his body language he was lying. The brainless idiot! He could have gotten caught, and if that had happened he would have talked his head off to save his skin.

  “I need to know the truth.”

  “Not me,” he said again, stronger this time.

  “Well, whoever did it, it’s too bad they missed,” she said, trying a different ploy.

  “A dead Joanna Blalock would have been fine with me.”

  Rudy shrugged, thinking about confessing then deciding not to. He didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize the $500,000 he was receiving for the job. A hundred thousand was already deposited in a Mexican bank. The other $400,000 would be deposited once the President was dead. He would be on easy street forever.

  “That neighborhood is filled with Mexican gangs. Maybe it was some gang member.”

  “Maybe,” Eva said.

  “I could check it out.”

  She shook her head.

  “What’s done is done.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Rudy went over to the counter and opened a can of soda, now wondering where Maria Gonzalez had hidden the rest of the money. They had found $2,000 tucked away behind the portrait of Jesus. There was another $3,000 somewhere, but they couldn’t find it. That was why Rudy had gone back the next day to search for the remaining cash. But the place was crawling with cops, so he went to a nearby rooftop and watched. He still wasn’t sure why he’d opened fire on the cop and the woman doctor.

  It was like an irresistible urge, a voice inside his head telling him what to do. And it felt so good while he was doing it.

  Rudy turned and saw Eva still staring at him through narrowed eyes. She knows, he thought, she knows I’m lying. A streak of fear shot through him. It wasn’t just the $500,000 that was at risk. It was his life. Eva’s people didn’t screw around. They killed anyone that got in their way.

  “Is is something wrong?”

  Eva saw the fear in his eyes and instantly knew that her expression had given away what she was feeling. She smiled at Rudy, distrusting him even more. But she needed him. For now. She sighed loudly.

  “I was trying to decide how we should deal with Joanna Blalock.”

  “We should kill her,” Rudy said at once.

  “Nice and slow.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Eva said and walked out of the kitchen.

  Tuesday, April 13, 9=40 p.m.

  Jake checked the windows in Joanna’s condominium, making certain they were all locked. In the living room he cracked the drapes and looked out at the dimly lit courtyard. A steady rain was falling, the sky dark and moonless.

  He closed the drapes tightly and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

  “Let me hear from you.”

  “Everything is fine outside,” said the detective in a car parked near the entrance to the condo.

  “Nice and quiet here.” The second reply came from a vacant condominium directly across the way. The detectives stationed there had night-vision binoculars trained on Joanna’s front door and the path leading up to it.

  “Stay alert,” Jake said.

  Jake heard the shower in the bathroom turn off. He quickly scanned the room again, searching for anything he might have overlooked. The door, the drapes, the heating and air-conditioning ducts, the light fixture above. All checked and secured. His gaze went to the blazing log in the fireplace and locked in on it.

  Hurriedly, he spoke into the walkie-talkie.

  “What about the chimney?”

  There was no response other than a burst of static.

  “What about the chimney?” Jake repeated.

  “Hurley took care of it this afternoon,” the detective across the courtyard answered.

  “He put a wire-mesh screen across it with an alarm attached. If even a bird lands on it, all hell breaks loose.”

  Jake thought for a moment.

  “Can you punch a hole through the screen?”

  “No way. It’s made of titanium.”

  “Good,” Jake said and put the walkie-talkie down. Joanna was standing by the hallway entrance, drying her hair with a thick towel.

  “Jesus! It sounds like an armed camp in here.”

  “That’s because it is,” Jake said.

  “Do you really think they’ll shoot at us again?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “They’re crummy shooters. Otherwise we’d be dead.” He thought back to the person on the rooftop who had fired at them. The slugs they found had come from a semiautomatic pistol. Had the shooter used a rifle with a telescopic sight, he could have easily killed them both and had time to spare.

  “Naw. They won’t shoot at us again.”

  “Then how will they try to get to us?”

  “With a bomb.”

  Joanna abruptly stopped drying her hair and stared at Jake.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said without hesitation.

  “C-four is what they know best. And it would be easy to do. Just break a back window and throw in a bomb. They wouldn’t find enough of us to bury.”

  “That’s a pleasant thought to go to sleep with,” Joanna said.

  “I just wanted you to know what we’re up against.”

  She nodded, sighing deeply.

  “There’s no way you can stop a determined bomber, is there?”

  “Not really,” Jake said.

  “The best you can do is make it tough as hell for them to get close.”

  “And most of the time you can’t even do that.” Joanna went back to drying her hair.

  “Like you just said, they could break out my bathroom window before the detectives outside could begin to react. And that’s a fact.”

  “It would be except that your bathroom window is now crisscrossed with barbed wire,” Jake told her.

  “There are also two canine units patrolling the outer perimeter of the building. And each of them has a big-ass rottweiler that’s not afraid of C-four.”

  “Now it feels like we’re in a prisoner-of-war camp,” Joanna said.

  “In some ways we are.”

  “Who would ever think this could happen in America?”

  “Welcome to the new world,” Jake said sourly.

  Joanna took a large comb from her terry-cloth robe pocket and ran it through her hair. She watched Jake adjust the gun in the holster under his arm. He never wore that damn thing when he was in her pl
ace. Never. But tonight was different.

  He would probably sleep with it on. She gazed around the still living room. It was so quiet with Kate and Jean-Claude no longer here. She kept expecting Jean-Claude to come galloping in on his trusty broom. But she knew he wouldn’t. He was cooped up with his mother in a motel far from Memorial Hospital. And he was wondering why he couldn’t be with his aunt Joanna. Joanna sighed again. How do you explain terrorists to a two-year-old?

  There was a sudden thump from above.

  Jake reached for his weapon, instantly on guard.

  Joanna looked up and slowly backed away. Then she heard the sound of soft footsteps.

  “It’s the woman in the unit upstairs. She’s always dropping things.”

  Jake bolstered his weapon and quickly picked up the walkie-talkie. He spoke to the team inside the condominium across the courtyard.

  “Did you see anything?”

  There was a brief burst of static before the response came.

  “The woman who lives upstairs just walked in.”

  “Describe her,” Jake said at once.

  “Short and plump with a small dog.”

  Jake looked over at Joanna inquiringly. She nodded back.

  “Call me whenever someone comes or goes in the courtyard,” Jake said into the walkie-talkie.

  “Will do,” the detective replied.

  “But we were sure on this one. We saw her being checked out by the canine unit at the front entrance.”

  “I still want to be notified.”

  “You got it.”

  Jake put the walkie-talkie down and exhaled loudly. He gently rotated his head and relaxed the taut muscles in his neck.

  “You want a beer?”

  “I could really use one,” Joanna said.

  Jake went over to the wet bar and came back with two frosted bottles of imported beer. He took the caps off and handed a bottle to Joanna.

  “To happ’er days,” he toasted.

  “And a lot of them,” she added.

  Joanna sat on the sofa and watched Jake pacing the floor. Even he was unnerved by these bastards and their bombs, she thought. And rightly so. They were cold-blooded murderers who would have no reservations about blowing up the entire condominium complex, just to rid themselves of an obstacle to their great plan. But what great plan? What

  building will they blow up? What institution will they go after? How many people will die in the explosion? And will I still be around when it happens?