Merv gasped. ‘Well, shit, woman. That man didn’t never stop protecting your sorry ass, even when you split. Beat me good, just for saying so. You all kinds of ungrateful.’
I glanced at the floor counter. The display changed to Basement. I didn’t have long. The signal could cut out any moment. ‘Tell me.’
A brief hesitation, a louder wheeze that might have been a sigh, then he spoke, ‘Boyd. No family name. Just Boyd.’
‘Merv, I need a number, a location. Give me—’
The cell phone cut out. I checked the screen: no signal. Son-of-a-bitch.
The elevator stopped. The display showed Lower Basement. The doors opened. Shoving my cell into my pocket, I stepped out into the passageway. It seemed quiet, empty. I jumped as the elevator doors slid shut behind me. Heard the elevator start to rise. Shit. Things might be quiet now, but security would be heading this way. I had to keep ahead of them. Get back to the Mustang. Figure out who the hell Boyd was, and where he was holding my daughter.
The only weapon I had was the small canister of pepper spray. It was false comfort though, only good for a couple of sprays.
I sprinted down the passageway to the main tunnel. Merv’s words still echoed in my mind: Ungrateful bitch, self-righteous bullshit. He was righter than he knew. If the mob had learnt the truth about Tommy, they’d be after me, not JT.
The guilt made it harder to focus.
I reached the intersection where the passageway connected with the main tunnel. Directly ahead, the narrowest tunnel was empty. Couldn’t bet on the main tunnel being the same. I had to be real close to where the shots had been fired. Could be Emerson’s men were lying in wait for me.
I stopped, pressed my back against the smooth concrete of the wall and edged closer to the corner. Peered into the main tunnel. To my left it was clear, just yards of white walls and strip lights. I checked the right. Inhaled sharply. Twenty yards away stood an abandoned cart. Black tyre-tracks burnt into the concrete showed the path the cart had taken as it swerved across the tunnel and stopped, its front end crushed against the wall.
I ran to it.
Three yards out, I stopped. Stared at the number on the bonnet: nineteen. The cart JT and I had taken earlier. No sign of the other two.
The black rubber marks showed the driver had been braking at the time it’d crashed. I imagined the two security carts bearing down on JT, him trying to outmanoeuvre them, zigzagging across the tunnel, trying to block them from overtaking. I guessed the guns had changed an even match into a dogfight. They’d shot at JT, forced him to pull over. Taken him prisoner.
Stepping closer to the cart, I peered inside. My breath caught in my throat. A smear of crimson stained the white plastic seat. I spotted more, in the footwell, a pool of it, red-brown and congealing. Blood.
Behind me, I heard voices and footsteps, getting louder. I turned, and saw a bunch of security guards from The Ice Palace round the corner into the main tunnel.
‘Stay right there,’ a squat guy with a shaved head yelled.
Yeah, like there’d ever be a rat’s ass chance of that.
I leapt into the cart, coaxed the engine awake and, pushing it to the limit, fled through the tunnel, following the signs to the parking lots.
I tried not to think on the blood, on what it could mean. Gripping the steering wheel, I wrestled to keep the cart straight, its battered front end pulling hard to the right, druthering like a fresh-broke mustang. The friction jarred through my hands, up my arms to my shoulders. I fought the urge to cry.
The electric motor screamed. A shrill, constant screeching that set my teeth on edge. The same two words repeated over and over in my mind: Your fault, your fault.
I reached the park boundary, beyond that point the only access was to the parking lots. I kept the accelerator pressed to the floor. Passed the elevator for Lot One. Hoped the battered cart would function long enough to get me to nine.
But as I rounded the next bend at top speed, I found the tunnel blocked. Two carts were parked across my path, three of Emerson’s men behind them guns drawn. All pointed at me.
I skidded the cart to a halt. I was trapped. The security guys from The Ice Palace weren’t far off. Forward or back, whichever way I went now, I was done.
One guy stepped out from behind the carts. He gestured with his gun for me to move. ‘Get out. Hands high, where we can see them.’
I recognised him as the SUV guy from Thelma’s. I stared back, didn’t move, tried to figure a way out.
He stepped closer. Kept the gun pointed at my chest, nodded upwards. ‘I got your little girl.’
‘You bastard, what have you—?’
‘You come nice, you’ll get to see her. Don’t and, well…’ He shrugged.
My playbook was empty. I was outnumbered and outgunned, and the son-of-a-bitch knew it. Didn’t have no kind of choice.
I climbed slowly out of the cart. Kept my hands held high, and waited for him to come get me.
43
We rode to the surface in the elevator for Parking Lot Two. It was the same kind as the one to the hotel, only smaller: a metal box, little bigger than a vertical coffin. As we travelled upwards, I hoped to hell that wasn’t an omen.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
SUV guy pushed me forward. ‘Walk.’
I felt the gun barrel press against my ribs, and was reminded that this time I didn’t have JT at my back. This time I was alone. I stepped out into a kind of fake log cabin, with walls of wood-effect plastic, and those neat New England-style shutters folded back at the sides of the windows. From the land-train operator instructions and timetables pinned around the walls, I figured it was the crew booth for the Parking Lot Two pick-up spot. Through the window I could see new arrivals to the park waiting in line for the land-train: kids laughing and playing, parents chatting. None aware that there were armed men just a few yards away.
I turned to SUV guy. ‘Kind of public isn’t it?’
He ignored me. Had his gaze fixed on the outer door and the two guys entering through it. One was the muscle – a heavy guy with vacant-looking eyes and a deep tan. The second was a whole other deal: dark jeans, sport coat, gold watch, nice shades. Real expensive looking, like he worked on Wall Street. I guessed that he was top dog. He nodded to SUV guy and drew a suppressed Glock 17 from a concealed holster. The way he held it, sure looked like he knew how it worked.
Top Dog took a couple of steps towards me. He moved easy. Athletic, like he hadn’t a goddamn care. The gun was pointed at the ground, not me. That told me he was real sure of himself and the speed of his draw.
‘I’d like you to come outside and get into my jeep.’ His tone was conversational, friendly even. Was this Emerson? I’d always pictured him as older; Top Dog looked nearer my age.
I frowned. ‘And if I refuse?’
He took off his shades and squinted at me, like he was considering the question real hard. Shook his head. ‘Yeah. See, I don’t think that’s going to happen.’
‘How so?’
‘I got your kid and your man. Y’all want to get reunited, you do as I say.’
Son-of-a-bitch. ‘They’re here?’
‘Outside.’
I felt dizzy, the breath spiky in my chest. My baby was here. ‘Okay.’
Vacant Eyes strode over to the crew lockers on the far side of the booth. He opened the end one and pulled out three sets of crew tabards and ball-caps. Putting his on, he handed the others to Top Dog, then walked to the outer door.
Top Dog handed me a tabard and cap. ‘Wear these. Look happy.’
I did as he said. And quickly. Anything to get me to Dakota.
As we moved to the door, Top Dog stayed close. He’d holstered his gun, but with him at my side and SUV guy and his chum right behind me, they weren’t taking any risks on my getting lose. They directed me out of the booth.
A little ways to our right, one of the parking-lot crew – a young, blonde cheerleader-type – was tryi
ng to get the crowd gathered around a white-and-silver jeep to move back. The vehicle had been outfitted to look like a snowmobile: faux sled-skis over the wheels, a plastic snow plough on the front, and big old spotlights rigged on the roof-rack.
The cheerleader kept jabbering away. ‘Keep back folks. Winston Walrus and Polly Penguin aren’t stopping here, but you’ll get to catch up with them soon enough. Over in the park there’s a whole bunch of characters just bursting to meet you.’
Top Dog leant a little closer to me. ‘Neat idea, you wearing the character costumes as a disguise. Thought we’d borrow it to get y’all out the park.’
I felt adrenaline surge through my limbs. Rushed towards the jeep. On the back seat sat two characters, a small penguin and a large walrus. Dakota and JT.
I jumped on to the back seat. Blinking back tears, I reached out to the small penguin, took its flippers in my hands. ‘Dakota? Oh thank God…’
She didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Confused, I turned to JT. Registered the dark stain and matted fur stretched across the thigh of the walrus costume, saw that the sleeves were loose and the chest oddly puffed out: they’d bound JT’s wrists inside the suit. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘JT, shit. Is it bad?’
He didn’t speak either.
I leant across him to Dakota, tried to pull her to me in a hug. Felt the joy, and the fear, pulsing through my body. Thought I heard muffled noises from inside the cartoon head, like she was trying to speak. I held her tighter, never wanted to let her go. ‘Dakota? Sweetie, I’m here now. It’s going to be—’
‘Quiet,’ Top Dog said from his seat in the front. He smiled, forced and false. The look in his eyes told me he’d make good on every one of his threats. ‘Sit down, smile, and don’t try anything.’
Like hell was that going to happen. My baby was right there, how could I just sit still and smile? Heart thumping in my mouth, I clawed at the fastenings on the side of the grinning penguin’s head. ‘It’s okay, baby. Momma’s here now. I’m going to get you—’
Vacant Eyes yanked me from my baby. I felt the hard outline of a gun barrel press against my ribs. I turned to look at him. Beneath his dead-looking eyes, his faked smile was chilling.
Top Dog leant close, whispering, ‘She’s still wearing that special vest. Any trouble now, and you’re only going to make things a whole lot uglier later. Are we clear?’
I glared at him. Nodded.
Vacant Eyes released me. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the jeep’s engine and eased the vehicle past the crowd and along the land-train path.
Top Dog looked at Dakota. ‘Wave, kid, like I told you. Wave to the people, or I’ll have to press that button.’
The penguin nodded. She lifted her flipper and waved at the gathered crowd. The little kids waved back, smiling, laughing and calling hello to Polly Penguin.
Beneath the oversized penguin head, I could hear my daughter crying.
They drove along the land-train route to Parking Lot Nine. Each lot we passed, numbers three through eight, were busy with new arrivals. Top Dog made Dakota wave every time. I heard her cry again. Made me defy Top Dog’s instructions and speak to my baby, tell her it’d be okay, that I was with her now, that I’d make things right. She didn’t answer. JT stayed real silent too.
Up ahead, a model of Chester Chipmunk pointed to Parking Lot Nine. Vacant Eyes took the turn, swinging the jeep through the entrance and into the lot. The whole place looked deserted. Lane upon lane of vehicles, their paintwork glinting in the sun, but not a human in sight. He steered the jeep along the rows until we reached C14 and pulled up in front of the Mustang.
Top Dog smiled. ‘Now, don’t think about calling for help. We’ve directed arrivals away from this area, and delayed the return land-train until we’re done.’
Dakota’s crying grew louder. The sound damn near shredded my heart.
I tried not to think on what she’d seen, what they could have already done to her. Had to focus. Needed to get us through this. After – that would be the time to think. Right now, I had to act.
Vacant Eyes climbed down from the driver’s seat. Looked at Dakota, then JT. ‘Get out and take off those costumes.’
Dakota did as he said. Standing on the blacktop beside the jeep, she unzipped the penguin suit, and lifted off the head.
I gasped, jumped out of the jeep and rushed to her. ‘Baby, oh no, sweetie, I—’
Top Dog stepped into my path. Gun raised, pointed right at my chest. ‘That’s far enough.’
I stopped. Stared past him towards my daughter, my poor baby. Her eyes red-rimmed, face dirty, duct tape across her mouth. The life preserver, with explosives instead of floats, was bound around her body and covered by a blue plastic rain jacket. I fought back tears, couldn’t show this bastard any weakness. Knew I had to play this real cute. Live or die, what happened next was down to me.
Vacant Eyes pulled JT from the jeep. As JT held on to the bonnet for balance, Vacant Eyes unclipped the walrus head from his shoulders, and yanked it off. JT’s mouth was taped shut, just like Dakota’s. Still, his eyes burnt with a fury that told me he was far from done.
Top Dog nodded at the Mustang. ‘Get in the car. You’re driving.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re going to see the boss.’
Emerson? I couldn’t let that happen. Somehow I needed to get us out of here, away from these people. I stayed right where I was.
Top Dog sighed. Glanced at Vacant Eyes. ‘Persuade her.’
Like an obedient hound, Vacant Eyes lumbered towards me. I moved fast. Planted a jab to his nose. He bobbed, ducked back. My fist barely connected. I moved with him, stepped in closer, and slammed the heel of my fist into his throat. He didn’t seem to feel a thing.
Too close to punch, I hooked my right leg around his left, and pulled hard to bring him down. He was too quick. One solid punch to my ribs pushed the breath right out of me. I gasped, doubled over, gulping for air. I clawed at my pocket for the pepper spray. Got a hold of it and pulled it out. The can felt cold, slippery. I couldn’t grip it. Heard it hit the ground. Failed.
He hit me again.
I staggered sideways, black spots dancing across my vision. I fought the urge to vomit. Dropped to my knees.
Dakota squealed. Ran to me.
I opened my arms, pulled her close, kissed her matted hair. Never wanted to let go. Whispered, ‘It’s okay, baby. Momma’s here, it’ll be all right. I’ll make everything all right. Promise.’
I could feel her trembling. Felt the fury inside me rising. ‘Baby, it’s okay, he won’t—’
‘Shut it, bitch.’ Vacant Eyes dragged me to my feet, turned me to face Top Dog. I kept hold of Dakota’s hand, pulling her close.
Top Dog had his Glock trained on JT. ‘You should stop. The first bullet will kill him. The second is for your daughter.’
Bastard. I looked at JT. His face was flushed, the muscles in his neck taut and strained. The walrus suit was off. As I’d guessed, his hands were bound with duct tape. The left thigh of his jeans was stained dark red. Fresh, crimson blood oozed through a tear in the denim. ‘JT? Stay strong, okay.’
Top Dog raised his voice, ‘You hear me?’
I heard him all right, and I did not doubt the man’s word. I held Dakota tighter. ‘Yeah.’
‘Good.’ Top Dog glanced at his watch, frowned. ‘We need to go. The boss is waiting.’
I had to stall. Had to figure us a way out. ‘So is that what you are, Emerson’s bitch?’
Top Dog shook his head. ‘Who I am doesn’t matter. Play nice, or I shoot.’
I looked at JT. The stain had spread wider across his jeans, his breathing was laboured, his eyes half closed. ‘He needs help.’
Top Dog shook his head. ‘Not gonna happen. We’re on a schedule and you’ve already made us late.’ He looked at the Mustang. ‘Nice ride. Fast, I’m guessing.’
Schedule or not, I had to stop JT losing more blood. I looked into the jee
p. Spotted a roll of duct tape in the passenger footwell. ‘You want him alive for your boss, don’t you? So let me stem the bleeding.’
Top Dog shrugged.
Grabbing the roll and keeping Dakota at my side, I hurried to JT. I wound the tape tight around his thigh, layering it twice, three times, keeping the tension strong to form a makeshift tourniquet. I hoped it would work.
‘That’s good enough,’ Top Dog said. ‘Now put him in the trunk.’
I looked at Dakota. ‘I’m going to help JT, okay, honey? I’ll be back real quick.’
She stared back at me, her eyes wide, unblinking. Gave me a tight smile.
I turned to JT. The duct tape tourniquet seemed to be holding. He met my gaze. Despite the pain, he still didn’t look defeated. I wanted to tell him I’d copied the data, that his diversion had worked. That I felt so grateful he’d taken the blame for what I did all those years ago. I wanted to say that I was sorry. Instead I touched the duct tape covering his mouth, ran my fingers along the stubble on his jaw, and said, ‘Lean on me, okay.’
He nodded. Gripping my shoulder, he took a step towards the Mustang. The pain showed on his face. His body went rigid. I put my arm around his waist, supported his weight as best I could.
‘Come on, bitch.’ Vacant Eyes glared at me. He grabbed JT’s free arm, and dragged him to the car, where he popped the trunk and nodded to JT. ‘In.’
It wasn’t a large space; no way big enough for a guy like JT to be comfortable. I turned to Top Dog. ‘You can’t make him travel in there. He’ll suffocate.’
‘He’ll be fine. And so long as you do as I say,’ Top Dog pointed his gun at Dakota, ‘so will your kid.’
JT gripped my wrist, squeezed it. I looked into his eyes. Felt sick. Couldn’t figure out a way to stop this. Couldn’t choose between Dakota and JT. Had to save them both, but I didn’t know how.
JT nodded. I let go.
He rolled backwards into the trunk. The heel of his boot caught one of the taillights, cracking the glass. Vacant Eyes didn’t seem to notice; he grabbed JT’s injured leg and forced him to bend it. JT groaned, but as he did, his sharp blue eyes held my gaze.
Deep Down Dead Page 27
