The Prada Paradox

by Julie Kenner

  Blake parked Blue on the street, and this time I’d transferred the new phone to my back pocket and left my bag and laptop in Blake’s trunk. I’d already scratched it once; I didn’t intend to do that again. We’d backtracked down the street, then turned toward the ocean and walked down the paved roadway that leads to the entrance of the pier.

  Now we stand there, looking up at the arched sign at the entrance announcing that we’ve reached “Santa Monica. Yacht Harbor. Sport Fishing. Boating. Cafés.”

  Ya gotta love it.

  “Which way?” Andy asks.

  “That’s the carousel house,” I say, pointing to the yellowish building in which is a real, honest-to-gosh old-fashioned carousel. Someone told me it’s one of the few surviving all-wooden carousels in the world, and it dates back to the early 1900s. It’s romantic, a shadow of a past age, and I never come to the pier without visiting it.

  Fortunately, it’s not very far out on the pier, either. The whole place bustles, but the amusement park part is near the beginning, before the pier turns into what you’d traditionally think of as a pier—wood planks extending over the water. Down at that end is a restaurant, sightseers, and fishermen. The vendors are mostly down with us, where we’re still over sand and parking lot.

  The place is a crush, and as we move, I’m jostled from all sides. Blake takes my arm, and we ease through the crowd, aiming for the horses. I’m searching the crowd, looking for anyone who seems suspicious, but there are just too many faces. I’m about to tell Blake to hurry when I overhear a kid talking.

  “No way that’s a real gun.”

  “Dude! Hit the deck.”

  I spin around, terrified. And through the crowd I see a face I haven’t seen for years—Janus.

  I can’t help it. I freeze. And then I scream.

  Chapter 40

  “Dammit, Blake, you’re running out of time. Go.”

  We’re racing through the pedestrians, both men beside me like bookends. Andy pulled me into a throng of tourists even as my scream hung in the air, and now the place is chaos.

  “Devi!” Blake yells.

  “Go!” I screech, even as we start shoving our way through the crowd. Janus is behind us, so we head down the pier, hoping to lose him in the crowd. “Just go. I’ll be fine.”

  I’m not actually so sure that I will, but if Blake doesn’t get that antidote, I know he won’t. And Janus isn’t going to follow him to the carousel. That man is all about killing me.

  The thought puts an extra little zip in my step.

  “Do what she says,” Andy yells, keeping a tight grip on my arm. “I’ve got her.”

  Even as Andy speaks, he’s pushing through the crowd, roughly shoving pedestrians into our wake, and trying to trip up the kids on Rollerblades and skateboards. People are screaming and cursing, but there’s no stopping us.

  I chance a look back over my shoulder, terrified, but hoping that we’ve lost Janus.

  No such luck, and I can see him raising a pistol, heedless of the innocent bystanders between us and him.

  Screams erupt, and the crowd mostly drops to the ground.

  We can’t, though. We have to run.

  And we do, racing pell-mell down the pier, zigzagging in the hope that Janus won’t be able to get a clean shot.

  All around us, tourists are either on the ground or scurrying out of our way. Street performers are backed up against the edge of the pier. In the distance, I hear the welcome scream of a police siren.

  Welcome, but not nearly close enough.

  To our right, a mime with a trunk full of balls and other props looks like he’s seen better days. Andy grabs my wrist and pulls me that way, then dumps the trunk over, sending a dozen or so small balls rolling over the wooden planks of the pier.

  Doesn’t even slow the son of a bitch down, and I cry out as a bullet screams past my ear to lodge in the wooden barrier lining the edge of the pier.

  “Jump!” Andy yells.

  We’ve zigged to the other side, moving as far away from that bullet as possible, and although I want to keep moving, I can’t help but stop and gape at him. “What?”

  He indicates the side, and the water below. We’re almost to the restaurant at the end of the pier, so we’re pretty far out, and in my gut I know the water must be deep. Still…

  “Dammit, Devi, now!”

  I swing my legs over, take a deep breath, and jump.

  The Pacific is not a warm ocean, even in the summer, and the chilly water stabs at me like so many little icicles. I go completely under, the weight of my jeans and shoes pulling me down. It’s midday, but all I can see is a greenish blur. The water is murky, pollution and sand mixing to completely bar my view.

  I’m trying to get my bearings—knowing I need to get under the pier if I want to be safe—when there is a splash and flailing beside me. My fears spike again as someone grabs my wrist, and I’m being tugged up. We break the surface, and I open my mouth to scream, but a hand is there.

  Andy.

  He meets my eyes and nods in question. I nod back, still on edge but with the program.

  I chance a look above us and see bystanders peering over the railing, calling down and snapping pictures.

  What I don’t see is Janus. Thank God.

  “Is he gone?” I hazard the question as soon as we’re safely under the solid wooden pier, fighting the current even as we hang on to the barnacle-covered posts.

  “I’m guessing he is,” Andy says. “That siren was coming fast, and if he’s still around—”

  “The cops,” I say. “Andy, there are rules. What are we going to tell the cops?”

  “We’re not going to tell them a thing,” he says. “Can you swim over there?” he asks, pointing to the far side of the pier. Out in the sun, we see some guys boogie-boarding.

  “Sure,” I say, because it’s not that far.

  “Be careful. The current will be stronger than you think, and with our clothes on…”

  He’s right, of course, and I’m tempted to strip down to my undies. The only reason I don’t is because it’s just as hard getting out of wet jeans as it is swimming in them.

  Well, that and the fact that as soon as I peel off my clothes, some reporter from the Enquirer will magically appear and snap a photo.

  I almost ask Andy what his plan is, but then I decide not to bother. He obviously has one, and as we swim out the other side of the pier, it becomes obvious enough. Above us, a few people are looking down, but nothing like the throng that had been gathered on the south side. I see one girl wave behind her—presumably to the cop whose car is on the pier, if the sound of the siren is any indication.

  “Andy…” I say, managing to swallow half the ocean at the same time.

  As I choke and spit, he grabs me and tugs me toward the shore.

  Now, the crowd on the north side of the pier has increased, and I hear “Please stop!” coming from the cop’s megaphone. That overly polite official “request” that most people are trained to follow.

  I’m not most people, though, and neither is Andy. We’ve reached the beach now, and Andy takes my hand. “Run!” he says.

  And I do.

  Chapter 41

  Blake’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d heard Devi scream. She and Andy both had yelled for him to go into the carousel house even as they raced farther down the pier.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but in that split second he’d had to make a decision, he knew that he had to. Time was running out, and he was no use to her dead.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t put a few kinks in Janus’s plans even as the bastard tried to get a bead on Devi.

  So as she turned back to the west and started racing down the pier, he’d looked for ways to make Janus’s life miserable. He’d caught a break when he’d seen Janus not ten feet away, the bastard raising his gun for another shot.

  Fuck that.

  He’d grabbed a small helium tank from a balloon vendor, then tossed
the thing. It made contact right as Janus was firing, sending the shot wild. At the same time, Blake raced toward him, so that when Janus turned to aim the pistol at him, he was ready.

  A nicely placed round kick had knocked that gun right out of the bastard’s hands, but in the confused mass of people, Janus had torn off in the opposite direction before Blake could cross the distance between them.

  He’d retrieved the gun, hoping like hell it was the only one Janus had, but not really believing it. He jammed it in the back of his jeans, then cut sideways behind the arcade buildings so he could circle back to the carousel house. He told himself that Devi was safe, and he kept repeating that as a mantra as he slowed to a fast trot and tried to blend into the crowd.

  He was amazed that no one had tried to stop him when he’d snagged the gun. Maybe they recognized him and thought this was some sort of movie stunt. Or maybe they were just plain scared. This was Los Angeles, after all, and gangs were prevalent enough that people knew to mind their own business if they wanted to stay alive.

  A few more yards, and he was back almost to the start of the pier. The door to the carousel house faced the foot traffic down the wooden pier, and now he moved in that direction, keeping his attention sharp, looking for any sign of Janus—or of Devi.

  He saw nothing, though. The crowd had moved back in on itself, like water diverted in a stream. He thought there might be some sort of commotion down at the far end of the pier where it actually extended over the water, but he couldn’t get a good enough look. Behind him, though, on the paved street that ran directly up to the pier, he heard a police car, the siren blaring.

  Good.

  Surely the approach of the police would scare Janus off Andy and Devi’s trail. He only hoped that Andy and Devi could blend into the crowd before the police latched on to them.

  He noticed one other thing, too, that filled him with hope: the police car was alone. No ambulance racing to catch up. No more sirens rushing through Santa Monica toward the pier.

  He couldn’t see them, so he couldn’t be sure. But he believed they were safe. And he intended to cling tenaciously to that belief until Devi was in his arms again.

  The entrance to the carousel house was only yards away. He stepped inside and entered a past era, the lights and brightly painted carousel and horses reflecting a Byzantine age, when grandeur was of as much importance as the ride itself.

  He’d been here once with Devi, but not having grown up in Los Angeles, he was hardly a regular at the pier. Now, he almost wondered why, because this place was surely magical. Even more so, he was certain, at night.

  He didn’t have until night, though, and so his acquaintance with each of the ponies had to start now.

  Fortunately, the carousel wasn’t running, which meant that he could step onto the platform with the horses and walk around, looking at each, trying to find the antidote that he would pull out of one of the horse’s mouths.

  There were a few other people in the structure. Tourist types, there with their kids, either not realizing the carousel wasn’t on at this time of day during the week, or simply taking the only opportunity they could to see the famous landmark. He did his best to ignore them, but as he went from horse to horse to horse, sticking his fingers into the open mouths of the ones that had been molded that way, he could feel their curious eyes on him.

  A few months ago, he would have felt compelled to explain himself. Now—after living in the celebrity spotlight—he was comfortable enough to just go about his business. One tourist did snap a picture when he was face-to-face with a horse, and he had to wonder if he’d see that picture in an upcoming issue of Entertainment Weekly. He looked up to see if he’d been tagged by the paparazzi and found himself looking at a skinny man with graying temples wearing an I ™ Santa Monica T-shirt and too-baggy Bermuda-style shorts.

  Not paparazzi—tourist.

  Thank God for small favors.

  “So whatcha doing there, buddy?” the man asked in a thick southern accent.

  “Scavenger hunt,” Blake said.

  “Right…” The guy cocked his head, obviously trying to decide if Blake was bullshitting him or not. “So, something’s supposed to be hidden in one of them horse’s mouth’s? And then what?”

  “Hopefully I find the prize.”

  “Prize, huh? Want some help?”

  “No thanks.”

  The man squinted at him. “Not the sharing kind, huh?”

  Blake closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The guy shot him an angry look and then grabbed up his shopping bags and stormed out.

  Blake shook his head in exasperation and moved on to the next horse.

  Once again, nothing.

  And nothing in the next horse, or the next, or the next.

  A mom standing with her small son watched him curiously. He gave them a sheepish grin, then walked the perimeter of the building’s interior, reciting the clue in his head, then pulling it out of his pocket to double-check.

  They had to be right. The carousel horses fit the clue perfectly.

  So where the hell was his damned antidote?

  He spent another useless hour inspecting the building—looking in every nook and cranny, searching every horse thoroughly.

  Not a goddamn thing.

  An unwelcome wave of fear crested over him, and he looked at his watch. Already past two. Just six hours left.

  God.

  He pressed down on the fear, determined not to let it control him. As much as he hated to admit it, they must have been wrong about the carousel. He was searching in the wrong place, and he needed Devi’s help if he was going to figure out where he should be looking.

  Devi’s help, and, yes, Andy’s, too.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed her new number, but only got her voice mail. That’s when he remembered that she’d left her purse with the computer in his trunk. She probably forgot to move her phone to a pocket, too.

  No matter. He dialed Andy’s number. Voice mail as well.

  Damn.

  He left a message, but wasn’t confident they’d get it. For all he knew, Andy had tossed his phone at Janus, hoping to give the assailant a concussion.

  Which means he was shit out of luck, all alone in Santa Monica and without any idea where to go next.

  He needed to find them. But where?

  Frustrated, he moved out of the carousel house and looked up and down the pier, hoping for a miracle. Because his luck wasn’t running toward good these days, of course no miracle occurred.

  Think, dammit, think.

  Devi would be looking for him, too. She’d want to hook back up, not only to get the next clue, but to make sure he’d found the antidote. She’d be trying to think of a location that Blake would know to go to. But where?

  He thought back to their first date. They’d come to Santa Monica, walked along the beach, played tourist along the pier, and then they’d ended the evening with a stroll along the Third Street Promenade and dinner at one of her favorite restaurants.

  He cocked his head, certain that had to be it.

  Because if she wasn’t at the restaurant, he was fresh out of ideas. And almost out of time, as well.

  Chapter 42

  >>>http://www.playsurvivewin.com<<<

  PLAY.SURVIVE.WIN.

  …please wait

  …please wait

  …please wait

  >>>Password approved<<<

  >>Read New Messages<< >>>Continue To Game<<<

  …please wait

  >>>WELCOME TO GAMING CENTER<<<

  >>Retrieve Assignment<< >>>Report to Headquarters<<<

  >>>WELCOME TO REPORTING CENTER<<<

  >>Enter Journal Entry<< >>>Submit Viewable Report<<<

  PLAYER REPORT:

  REPORT NO. A-0002

  Filed By: Janus

  Subject: Failed Attempt—Lost Tracking Device

  Report: Target located at Santa Monica Pi
er. Attempt failed due to interference by protector, nature of crowd, and arrival of police.

  Tracking device still functioning, but noting location opposite from the direction target ran. Assumption: Target separated herself from tracker.

  Will attempt to relocate target.

  The hunt continues.

  >>>End Report<<

  Send Report to Opponent? >>Yes<< >>No<<

  Chapter 43

  I’m dunking bread into the herb-and-spice oil at Gaucho Grill, my absolutely favorite restaurant in Santa Monica. I’m not enjoying being there today, though. Heck, I can barely taste the bread. I’m too worried that something has happened to Blake.

  It’s a reasonable fear. We barely got away ourselves, and ended up slogging across the beach in our wet clothes until we could steal new ones from someone foolish enough to leave shorts and tank tops just sitting there on empty beach towels.

  “Why don’t we go look for him?” Andy says.

  I’m tempted, but I shake my head. “No. It’s not even been an hour since we split. Give him a few more minutes.” I’ve spent the last half hour kicking myself for not having a plan for if we got separated, but there was nothing we could do about that now. I just have to hope that Blake has the same idea I do about where to come.

  “We can’t stay here forever,” Andy says. “We need to keep moving. Janus could be out there right now.”

  I nod, because he’s right. But we’re in the back, near the exit. And we have a view of the inside of the restaurant, plus the foot traffic along the promenade. For the moment, we’re safe.

  “Devi?” Andy prompts.

  “Without the next clue, where would we go?” I ask.

  “Hole up in a hotel,” Andy says. “We’ve already talked about this. The tracker doesn’t pinpoint an exact location. If we check into a huge fancy hotel, he’ll never figure out what room we’re in.”

  “What if the tracker in this game is better?” Certainly it was well hidden. Because although we’d tossed our phones, Janus had still found us. Which meant we’d ditched our phones for nothing. And the location of the damn tracking device was still a mystery.