by Gregory Colt
Her eyes snapped up to face me. “You mean you knew about those guys before they came to the office? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you will recall, I was a little preoccupied when I swung by the office to pick you up last night,” I reminded her in a sharp tone.
She started to say something, then stopped and frowned.
I continued a little softer. “It was a hard day. A difficult night for you too I’m sure. You were scared, you were uncomfortable, you were hurt, do you really think knowing about the warehouse attack would have made you sleep any better?”
“No,” she said, breaking eye contact. “But I’ve had a good night’s sleep now. I want to know.”
I nodded. “I didn’t know what to say until we talked to Irish this morning. The ones that jumped me and Brandon weren’t like the ones you saw last night. They were feral. Likely more of those homeless addicts that Irish had seen. The ones that came after you were controlled. They took orders from the smaller guy downstairs. And with three of them like that, it’s even possible those were the same ones from the museum.”
Claire shivered again despite the lack of wind at the moment. “I hadn’t thought of that. That they could have been the same ones.”
“If we’re lucky one’s dead and the rest out of commission.”
Claire looked up at me again. “None of that changes the fact you lied to me.”
“I told you I worked alone. I didn’t ask you to get involved,” I replied in a neutral tone.
“I was involved the second my friends were murdered!” she snapped, taking a step closer.
“The only reason you are still alive is because I didn’t want more blood on my hands from some too stubborn, too headstrong, little girl getting in over her head!”
I was angry and had no idea where it was coming from. Claire stared at me without expression. I bet that was difficult for her. It wasn’t even a stare. She just looked at me.
And it confused the hell out of me. Which for some reason seemed to soften her mood.
“I found them,” she said a moment later.
What was she talking about? “You found the artifacts? The book, the obsidian daggers, the jewelry?” I asked uncertain.
Her eyes smiled at my expression, which was more confusion. “Yes.”
“Where are they?”
Claire’s mouth turned a ghost of a grin. “You don’t care how I found them?”
“Curious, yes. Care, no,” I said, crossing my arms.
“What do you know about The Auction? Capital A.”
“Some kind of underworld—I don’t know—market or fair or something held every couple of years dealing in about everything. Guns, drugs, women, black market goods, illegal fireworks. You name it it’s probably there.”
Claire threw her hands up in frustration. “Did they run a television ad or something that I missed?”
“What?” I asked as the confusion kept on coming. Which only seemed to improve her mood further.
“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s an Auction tomorrow night. Joe Vitale is sponsoring it and the artifacts will be there. I talked to a man that was called early this morning to verify their authenticity for a potential buyer.”
Interesting. “And the potential buyer was?”
“Never met him. All third party. Said he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.”
I nodded. That was standard.
“Vitale, yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “One more reason Diamond Jack is on edge.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing for it. We’re going to have to find the Auction. Then find a way in. Find what we’re looking for amongst a gazillion other items for sale, all of which are going to be under max-protection and we’ll be surrounded by the biggest movers and shakers of the criminal underground throughout New England. Oh, and then we have to get them out unnoticed. And let’s not forget identifying the original thieves and bringing the killers to justice.”
“That’s right,” Claire said with as much false confidence as she could muster. It looked good on her.
“Damn straight it’s right.”
She smiled, but it faded. “I don’t know how long it will take to find. I don’t even know where to begin. And we are revisiting this lying business when all this is over, but for right now I…” she paused, struggling to finish and biting her lower lip. “I need you.”
That must have hurt like hell. I took a deep breath and rubbed the back of my neck, thinking. I glanced back down the street from where we’d come.
“Do you know what the odds of her even being alive are, Adrian?” Claire asked.
I involuntarily curled my hands into fists. “I know they’re higher than they will be tomorrow. I know what kinds of sickness and depravity could be inflicted upon her. I know she is probably dead. And it still doesn’t matter. I’m finding her, alive or not, and bringing her home,” I said, closing my eyes and fearing an onslaught of images. The rest of last night was blessedly clear in my mind, though that might have been because of the long episode I’d endured. Still, this morning had stayed clear despite not having my pills. By this afternoon though, sometime after being dropped off, it had begun again. Nothing serious, and in fact, after all these years it was almost a comfort. So when I thought of Ruby, I expected a flood of emotions and images to fill me and for the screaming to start, but it didn’t.
“Yes we are,” she said.
“Yes we—wait,” I said, cocking my head. “But you were trying to talk me out of—”
Claire bobbed up on the balls of her feet. “Come on, sir Knight. I want to hear it all from the beginning.” She hooked my arm again and led us down off the bridge back the way we’d came.
“So, we add rescuing the damsel in distress, whom we know not where she is, to the top of our impossible list that must be completed by tomorrow night.”
“Wasn’t that already at the top?” she asked.
“Aye, it was. But that was before we needed to get to this Auction. Doesn’t change the priorities, but bonus cool points if we could find Ruby and still make it.”
Claire grinned. “I love bonus cool points.”
“Yes sir, that’s why I got involved in this business to begin with instead of listening to mom and going to medical school. Look at all the fun I’m having.”
“You mean like being trapped between two mob bosses prepping for war, hunted by drug-induced flesh-eating goons, in trouble with the law, and no one to save the day but us?”
“Fun, fun, fun.”
Chapter Twenty-One
We rejoined Brandon, Thomas, and company outside The Box and, each in turn like she asked, told our story to Claire. She was patient and listened without interrupting, saving her questions until we finished.
“So, the men in the van, that’s where we’re at right now?” she thought out loud.
“It isn’t much, but at least we have a direction. Something more specific to be looking for anyway,” I said.
She nodded. “And you haven’t spoken with the pimp?”
I shook my head no.
“Any idea where to start on these men and their vehicle?”
“There are things we can do, but none of them fast. We don’t have a license plate or any identifying mark. Most of the surrounding neighborhood is abandoned and, under the circumstances, I don’t think it’s a good idea trying to canvass any of the remaining homeless,” I said.
“Security cameras?” Claire asked.
“Yeah. It’s a long shot, but yeah,” I turned to Brandon. “Think that old officer would come back out if you asked?”
Brandon pulled a business card out of one of his pockets. “Said to call if we found something that might be important, so yeah, I think we can count him in. Why?”
“Call him and get your boys together. Go door to door, like you did with those apartments earlier, except this time with all the shops and businesses along the potential routes that van may have come or gone by and
see if any have security cameras facing out to the street. Lots of footwork, but since we know the time frame, the van ought to show somewhere, assuming you can get footage down every surrounding street.”
“You think they’re gonna hand over their cameras because I ask them to? I mean I know folks around here that might cooperate, but the rest…” Brandon said, shaking his head in doubt.
“Exactly,” I said, pointing at him. “That’s where our friendly neighborhood police officer comes in. Maybe not everyone will help, and there really isn’t any way he could force them, but I bet more people would cooperate with the police, don’t you?” I asked.
“Heh,” he snorted. “In this neighborhood? I don’t know about that. I mean, I guess for Ruby maybe. Lots of folks know her. Yeah,” he said, talking himself into it and nodding. “Yeah, if we say it’s for Ruby, I think more than not they’ll help out.”
Claire smiled. I nodded.
“All right. So what happens if I think I find it, but can’t see the license plate or a clear picture of who’s inside?” he asked.
Claire answered him. “If you think you’ve found it then you’ll be able to eliminate most of the other streets and focus on the one you’re on. See if you can get more shots of it. Worst-case scenario you still find a time and direction. Keep working that way and see if you can find better shots.”
“That’s right,” I said impressed. “I know it’s slow going, but—”
“Nah,” said Brandon. “It’s a good plan. We got to find that van or at least something that will help us do it. Besides, it beats the hell out of searching all those damn empty buildings. What are you two going to be doing?”
Good question. I figured I’d help them go door to door. I could be a persuasive guy when I wanted, but that was before Claire arrived. I waited to see what she would say.
“One or two more people won’t help, and I would like to see everything for myself. I want to talk to Jabari, see the Jordan’s apartment, talk to Roman, and we still should find M&M, to be thorough,” she said.
“Not a bad idea. New perspective always helps. Not to mention yesterday we didn’t know about this vehicle and those men. Maybe Roman, M&M, someone at the apartment, or down at the shelter saw something like that around,” I said.
“If you can even find M&M,” said Brandon.
“I have an idea,” Claire said in a tone of voice I’d never heard from her. Reluctant and, excited, maybe. What was she thinking?
“Brandon, you said he always has his eyes and ears out for anyone operating independently in his territory?” she asked.
Brandon snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
Claire motioned for Brandon to follow her. I don’t know what Claire wanted, but she told him something and he ran inside The Box coming out a moment later with a pair of scissors.
Claire snipped around her shoulders and midriff. Before I could begin to process what the hell was going on she ripped her sleeves off at the shoulder and tore the bottom half of her blouse off, just under her high buckled vest, baring her full midriff and convincing me then and there words like soft, and hard, were not contradictory when it came to describing Claire in the flesh.
She noticed me watching and slowed to a pace I can only describe as excruciating. She opened the buttons of her blouse down to the buckled vest, which she tightened another two notches, having effects on her body that threw subtlety out the window. Where it died.
I got a smug, satisfactory smile when she was finished and took notice of the absolute silence that had fallen.
“Remember,” she said to Brandon. “Spread the word.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“And you,” she said, walking towards me. “If I’m doing all the heavy lifting we need to get started.”
“Okay guys here’s the plan,” I heard Brandon say as Claire motioned me to follow back down the sidewalk towards my car.
When we got to the car I asked, “So is this part of a plan or did you just randomly become overwhelmed with the desire to—”
“A plan. If we can’t go to M&M, then we make him come—”
“So to speak,” I said interrupting.
“What are you, fourteen?” she said, trying to glare and hide a grin at the same time. It failed.
I opened the door for her.
“Oh no, Mr. Knight. The deal was I drive.”
“It would look strange having you drive what with our new cover ID’s and all,” I said smiling.
She huffed and slid into the passenger seat. I shut the door, ran around to the driver’s side, and hopped in.
“So,” I said, getting the keys from her. “Heavy lifting, eh?”
“I swear to God if you ever tell anyone about this you will regret it for the rest of your short life.”
Ten minutes later I showed Claire the Jordan’s apartment, where to my increasing curiosity their friend Jess still wasn’t home, then walked the route Brandon and I had the day before. We stopped outside the abandoned building where Brandon and I found Ruby’s shoe and broken heel. We were only there two minutes before I had to run someone off that had pulled up trying to talk to Claire.
“You know,” she said after the car left, “you should let them flirt. If you run everyone off it won’t look right.”
“Maybe I’m looking out for my girls. Protecting my assets so to speak,” I said.
She cocked her head and gave me the ‘stop being an ass’ look.
“And don’t talk back, bitch,” I grinned wide.
Her look conjured images of extreme violence being inflicted upon my shins had I said it without the smile.
“Rival pimp is it? So nice of you to contribute.”
“Not what I thought I’d be doing today, that’s for sure.”
She rolled her eyes and walked off laughing. Every time I thought I had her figured, she surprised me.
I passed the doorway Brandon and I had broken into the day before. I really wanted my gun back. The police went through it last night so it was probably clear. I looked at Claire wearing her professional face while she walked up and down the sidewalk conquering it. Probably clear wasn’t good enough.
Claire stopped pacing a few minutes later and leaned back against the building with a sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinking. This isn’t what I do. I thought I could help.”
“Extra set of eyes always helps. Different perspective does too. You should be proud.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve worked on this for more than a day. You got here less than an hour ago and you’re all caught up to me,” I said.
She lowered her head and grinned. “Which is where exactly?”
“Ruby was abducted here the night before last by a group of people in a white van. Outside of assumptions, we have no idea who they are. Means our suspect pool consists of more than six billion people. I was able to eliminate myself early on,” I said.
“Is this seriously how you normally work?”
“Well, I’m almost convinced you didn’t do it.”
“All right, I give. We keep looking into the vehicle. We talk to Roman Sawyer again and find M&M.”
“Top of the class.”
“Should’ve brought me in earlier.”
“I called before I came out here, you know. You didn’t answer.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “I was busy doing all the work in our other case.”
My petty and or childish reply was cut off as two big golden Porsche Cayenne’s screeched around the corner and stopped at the curb beside us.
Porsche SUV’s? Sometimes I forgot how long I’d been away. I shrugged to myself. Show time.
I stepped in front of Claire and waited with my hands clasped in front of me as the passenger door to the lead vehicle opened and large generic thug number one from central casting stepped out and opened the back door where number two got out.
A third man got out of the back and straightened his dark reddish-brown suit before acknow
ledging our presence. He was tall. Taller than me and slender.
“Maurice, I presume?” I asked
“To my friends. Mr. M&M to you Mr.…”
“Knight. Adrian Knight.”
M&M looked away thinking for a second. “Knight,” he said, snapping his fingers and looking at the men behind him. “How do I know that name?” Both the men shrugged and shook their heads.
I didn’t want to drag Nick’s name into this, but better to associate with someone who had a good reputation in the neighborhood instead of letting him consider where else he might have heard my name. Some of those other associations did not have the best reputations.
“I work with Nick Roarke from time to time,” I said, nodding like that was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Roarke,” he said, snapping his fingers again.
“Private investigator. Found those Johnson twins couple of years ago,” said thug number two.
“Yeah that’s it,” M&M turned back to me. “So what have we got here, Mr. Knight,” he said, nodding at Claire. “Thinking of doing some business around here?”
He snapped his fingers twice towards the second Porsche—SUV, geez—and all four doors opened, letting out numbers three through eight. Between M&M and Diamond Jack this morning, even in a slow economy, the thug business was booming.
So he liked Nick and it still didn’t make any difference how he handled his business. It lacked a certain subtlety, but still, stylish.
“Adrian?” Claire asked behind me. I held my palm out to her.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head off darlin’. I’ve got work if you want it,” he said.
“I’m happily employed. Thank you,” she said.
“Not for long,” M&M said, raising a closed fist and pointing towards me. Well, I got my answer. Crap.
I held up my own hand. “This isn’t what you think,” I said, realizing how lame it sounded.
“Never is,” he said, picking something out of his fingernails.
