Hoodwink

by Rhonda Roberts

  I crawled across the carpet to escape but failed. I rolled into a ball trying to protect my head, then realised that put the wristwatch in danger.

  Sheer terror cut through me. The transponders were supposed to be tough but that was my only lifeline home.

  In a daze I struggled to get to my knees but Gibson, incensed at my resilience, kicked me full in the diaphragm. I fell back struggling, heaving, pleading for air.

  Gibson stood over me. Gun ready. Waiting.

  An eternity later I managed to force in one tiny whistling breath. Then another …

  I gagged and vomited blood onto the carpet. Then lay back exhausted with the effort to breathe.

  Gibson cocked his revolver. ‘If you move again — I’ll shoot you. If you don’t answer me fast enough — I’ll shoot you. Understood?’

  He had the stone-cold eyes of a killer.

  ‘Yes,’ I wheezed.

  ‘What happened to your accomplice?’

  ‘He went back home.’ I moved both wrists half an inch closer. If I could just get my fingers to the watch …

  Gibson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where is that?’

  ‘The future.’

  Another half an inch …

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’ He kicked me in the ribs. Hard. I felt one break. ‘You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.’

  I grunted with fury and terror.

  I knew exactly who I was dealing with … and what would happen next.

  If I didn’t save myself …

  The door swung open and Gibson’s men stood there gawking at the red spray of blood across the white walls.

  Gibson’s eyes shifted a fraction — towards the door … and I was up and snapping his head back with a punch to the jaw. I tore the gun out of his now limp fist and slammed it, grip first, into his nose.

  He howled in agony, blood spurting.

  ‘Move and I’ll blow him apart!’

  The guards halted feet away. They knew I meant it.

  Gibson was on his knees, whimpering from the pain.

  I stood over him, the revolver cocked — and activated the transponder.

  Gibson glared up at me, his raw eyes filled with vengeance. ‘You can’t run far enough to get away from me, slut! I’ll find you and when I do —’

  ‘No, Gibson … now you’re my prey.’

  I started to shimmer.

  Gibson watched me in horror.

  I leant over him. ‘And if you’re still alive — I’m going to find you … and I’m gonna make sure you pay for everything you’ve done!’

  The wave came for me.

  I spat in his face.

  Gibson cowered, my bloody spittle dripping off his features.

  And then I was gone.

  PART THREE

  PRESENT TIME

  49

  UNION SQUARE,

  SAN FRANCISCO

  The clear, hard walls of the portal materialised around me. I was back in Union Square. My head was pounding and I was clutching my bruised and broken ribs.

  Daniel was nowhere to be seen.

  There was blood drying on the floor and door of the portal and leading out into the chamber beyond, where three NTA officers were arguing. I didn’t know any of them.

  I flung open the portal door, yelling, ‘Where is Marshal Honeycutt? Is he still alive?’

  The oldest one stepped forward. ‘They’ve rushed him to hospital, Ms Dupree.’ He peered at my face and then down at Daniel’s blood splattered on my clothes. ‘Are you hurt too, ma’am?’

  ‘No. No. That’s Daniel’s — I was with him when he was shot. Is he all right? Where is he? I have to see him …’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t tell you that … Chief Brigham wants to see you straight away.’

  ‘No, no. First you’ve got to tell me if Daniel is going to survive! What did they say?’

  ‘I don’t think the doctors know yet.’

  ‘Well, why can’t you at least tell me where he was taken? I want to see him now!’ This secrecy just didn’t make any sense.

  ‘It’s on Chief Brigham’s orders. No one is to know about his …’ The officer faltered. ‘His accident.’

  I fumed. ‘Where is Brigham?’

  ‘In his office on the third floor.’ He shifted his eyes to the other men. They came over. Now all three stood much too close to me. ‘We’ll take you down there now, ma’am.’

  My hackles rose. Exactly why was I getting an armed escort?

  ‘So Charles Gibson is still alive,’ I said with malicious satisfaction.

  Brigham, his face shuttered, said, ‘Yes, Dupree, but it makes no difference.’

  ‘But I just told you what happened! Charles Gibson had Earl Curtis killed so he could get hold of the Redbud desk and the secret code book that was hidden in it. Floyd Nugent sent four men to do the job and they got into the Selznick studios posing as film extras … They killed Earl and put him in the new cement panel being laid in Studio 3.’

  ‘But you didn’t actually witness it, Dupree.’

  ‘I told you why I had to leave!’

  Brigham was being beyond unreasonable.

  ‘But Honeycutt and I both heard Charles Gibson and Floyd Nugent discussing the plan … We’d already investigated the four men and the murder plan was outlined in the exact same way that Curtis was actually killed. What else do you want, Brigham?’

  ‘That’s not good enough, Dupree. I’m not accepting anything less than an eyewitness at the murder.’

  I threw up my hands. ‘Brigham, are you trying to tell me that there was someone else in Los Angeles who planned to kill Earl that exact same night and dispose of his body in the exact same way?’

  Brigham snapped, ‘I will not initiate an investigation of Charles Gibson based on hearsay!’

  I leant over the desk, fuming. ‘Just what’s going on here, Brigham? There’s no statute of limitations on murder, and you and I both know that the NTA has activated legal cases based on far less evidence than this.’

  ‘Well it’s not happening this time, Dupree. I have no idea whether anything you’ve said is actually true or just some self-serving story you want to feed the newspapers.’

  ‘Daniel Honeycutt can verify every single word I’ve —’

  ‘If Marshal Honeycutt lives, that is.’

  His expression shocked me.

  Brigham almost seemed pleased at the possibility that Daniel could die.

  ‘What do you mean “if he lives”?’ I thumped my fist on his desk. ‘Where’s Daniel and why can’t I see him?’

  ‘Because, Dupree, one of our best military specialists was shot while merely supervising your little investigation.’ Brigham ran his eyes over my bruised face and splattered clothes. ‘And then you arrive with his blood all over you!’

  ‘What exactly are you implying, Brigham?’ I growled.

  ‘You heard me, Dupree!’ he snarled back. ‘Why is the marshal I sent to supervise you in the emergency room? Did he see something you didn’t want him to? Was he going to send you back?’

  Aaaggghhh!

  I wanted to scream and scream until they took me to see Daniel …

  Then suddenly I realised that Brigham was watching me and waiting for that exact reaction. He was taunting me, trying to push me over the edge.

  Now why would Brigham want to do that?

  Suddenly the cold blade of reason cut through.

  I stood back and crossed my arms. ‘If that’s what you really believe — that I shot Marshal Honeycutt — then what are you going to do about it?’

  I made it a challenge.

  A fleeting glimpse of panic crossed Brigham’s face.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘I thought so,’ I said with satisfaction. ‘You know very well I didn’t hurt Honeycutt. You’re just looking for any excuse you can find to intimidate me and disrupt my investigation. What’s this really about, Brigham?’

  He kept his mouth shut.

  ‘You know, Brigham …
I’m getting a really strange feeling about this case. Why did you insist on sending me on my first field mission without a mentor and with only two days to prepare? There was no emergency — so why would you make me do that?’

  Brigham snaked me a venomous look. ‘It’s your fault that Senator Curtis inflicted this private case on the NTA in the first place.’

  I slapped my hands flat on his desk and leant in again. ‘Even if that was true, why would you then make it impossible for me to succeed? The last thing the NTA needs at the moment is an unhappy senator shouting about our incompetence and bellowing for revenge.’

  I straightened, thoughtfully tapping my chin. ‘In fact, why didn’t you send someone with me to ensure the mission was a success?’

  Brigham wanted to punch me.

  ‘That is, unless you didn’t want me to succeed at all,’ I said. ‘The thing is, Brigham, no matter what you want, I’m going to report to Senator Curtis on my findings.’

  Brigham spat back, ‘You do that, Dupree, and you’re straight out of the training program.’

  I saw red.

  ‘Are you officially ordering me to lie to my client?’

  ‘No, I am ordering you to stick to the facts. You failed in your mission to observe the actual murder! You have no evidence to report!’

  ‘Susan Curtis won’t stand for this!’

  In my brief overview to Brigham I hadn’t mentioned her tangled involvement.

  ‘Susan will demand that Charles Gibson is investigated!’

  ‘She won’t,’ said Brigham with a perverse pleasure. ‘Because Mrs Curtis died last night.’

  ‘What?’ That couldn’t be true.

  ‘And the rest of the Curtis family, the senator included,’ snarled Brigham, ‘just want to put this whole sorry business behind them. Susan Curtis was the only one to really care what happened. To the rest of the family, Earl Curtis is just a potential source of embarrassment.’

  He lounged back with deep satisfaction, contemplating the stunned look on my face. ‘It’s finished, Dupree. Over. You will tender your report to me — and no one else.’

  When I opened my mouth Brigham barked, ‘And if I have any more grief from you over this, Dupree, you’ll be out of the NTA as fast as I can pick up the phone. Is that understood?’

  Susan was dead …

  ‘Now get out of my office.’

  After retrieving my bag from my NTA locker, I pulled out the pack of painkillers, stuffed twice the standard dose in and swallowed dry.

  I’d have the same again in a few minutes.

  I gingerly stripped off the bloodstained stalker outfit, minding my broken ribs, and dumped it in my locker. I turned the shower on full bore but the hot water just made everything worse. The defensive bruises up and down both arms and one thigh, the boot-toe marks over one side of my rib cage and the purple, jelly-like raised blotch that covered my diaphragm all throbbed even harder. At least the egg-sized bump on the side of my head only throbbed but hadn’t bled.

  I stayed under the spray for as long as I could stand it then dried off and dressed in clean clothes. I forced down the next dose of painkillers and slumped onto the bench in front of the mirrors.

  I looked like a beaten dog.

  The sight infuriated me so much that it cleared my head. I wasn’t beaten yet. I was going to fix this!

  But how?

  I was torn between an overwhelming desire to go back up to Brigham’s office and pound the name of Honeycutt’s hospital out of him … and a driving need to find out what the hell had happened to Susan Curtis.

  Pounding Brigham would just get me arrested. But what could I possibly do to help Troy now that Susan was gone? Would having the answers make any difference to him now?

  I didn’t think so.

  I’d really screwed this up.

  I stared into that damned mirror once more.

  This was no time for indulging in confused self-pity … the first thing I had to do was find Honeycutt.

  I got my phactor out and rang Constan. He answered his phone after eight rings. He was stressed out. ‘Valdestiou here, can I put you on hold?’

  ‘No you bloody can’t, Constan! This is an emergency!’

  ‘Kannon?’ His voice was eager. ‘What are you doing back today? You’re not due until —’

  ‘There’s been an accident, Constan. I —’

  ‘Oh my God. Are you all right? Victoria’s flying in tonight. She wanted to be here when you arrived back from your first field trip. Where are you? I’ll ring her and we’ll —’

  ‘It’s not me, Constan.’ I glared contemptuously at my reflection. Yes, I’d really fucked this up. ‘Marshal Daniel Honeycutt was shot.’

  ‘Marshal Honeycutt? What —’

  ‘It’s a long story, Constan, so don’t ask. But Brigham won’t tell me where he is … or even if he’s still alive. Daniel was shot defending me, Constan, I have to know if he’s alive or —’

  ‘Shot defending you? But …’ He thought for a second, trying to catch up. ‘But why won’t they tell you? I don’t understand —’

  ‘Constan, can you just find out where they took him and how he is? Please? I’ll tell you everything later.’ Constan may only be an office manager with a low security clearance but he knew a lot of sneaky ways to get the juice on secret NTA business.

  ‘Of course, Kannon, of course.’

  ‘Can you ring me back as soon as you know?’

  He heard the desperation in my voice. ‘Yes, of course, Kannon. I’ll ring back as soon as I know anything.’

  We hung up.

  I slid Shelby Bloom’s business card out of my wallet and rang his number.

  His secretary said Shelby was in a meeting, but insisted on putting me through when I gave my name. She said Teen Scream’s executive producer was there with his lawyers and was threatening to sue. He claimed that Susan’s death and my investigation could have a deleterious effect on his TV show.

  I shook my head then winced.

  ‘Kannon?’ Shelby sounded old and frail. ‘I thought you were due back tomorrow?’

  I heard someone in the background splutter, ‘She’s back already?’

  ‘Shut up, Leonard,’ muttered Shelby. ‘I’m on the phone.’

  That had to be Leonard Brewster, hovering over this tragedy like a vulture at a wake.

  ‘Yeah, I had to come back early, Shelby. I’ll explain everything later, but I just heard that Mrs Curtis died?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was so soft I could barely hear it. ‘It happened last night.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I thought I should give you the news. I found out who killed Earl. It was a man called Charles Gibson.’

  ‘Charles Gibson?’ said Shelby tiredly. ‘I know that name.’

  ‘I have all the details and I can meet with you whenever it’s convenient. I’m so sorry, Shelby. I’d hoped that I could give her the news before the motor neurone disease took its toll.’

  Silence.

  Then Shelby said to his visitors, ‘I’ll have to take this call in the next room.’

  As he left, petulant voices shouted questions at him.

  Shelby shut the door on them firmly.

  ‘It wasn’t the disease, Kannon.’ He heaved a leaden breath. ‘Susan killed herself.’

  Silence.

  Oh no. I cradled my ribs. Poor Troy.

  ‘I’m sorry, Kannon. I didn’t mean to be so brutal in telling you but it was quite a shock to me as well. Susan shot herself. She did it last night just after we’d had dinner together.’ His voice broke. ‘I’d only been gone an hour when the police rang me. I keep going over our last conversation again and again.’ He was trying not to weep. ‘But there was no hint of why she’d do such a thing …’

  ‘Oh, Shelby, I’m so sorry.’ The poor man.

  ‘Kannon, I just don’t understand it …’ he said, grief-stricken. ‘Susan was so eager to hear what you’d have to say. She couldn’t stop talking about it. The docto
r even said her health was improving. She was even talking to Troy about the future. They were making plans together. It seemed like she had a reason to live again — not die.’ He sobbed. ‘I just don’t understand it.’

  ‘Oh, Shelby, I’m so sorry for your loss …’

  He didn’t respond. He was still in shock and dealing with it.

  ‘How is Troy?’ I said. ‘Is someone with him?’ He couldn’t be left alone, not now.

  ‘Troy …’ Shelby sighed, ‘is at Ceiba House for the moment, but once I’ve finished with these …’ He stopped. ‘Once the meeting here is finished I’ll take him home with me. Until the rest of the family arrives.’ He paused. ‘But Troy’s not taking it very well.’

  Silence.

  I rubbed my face tiredly. Oh God — if you are there — please help them.

  ‘Is there anything I can do, Shelby? Anything at all?’

  ‘No, Kannon, not for the moment. We all need time to just — absorb it.’

  ‘All right, I’ll ring you again later. Please tell Troy —’ I stopped.

  What could I say that’d make any difference now?

  ‘Please tell Troy that I’ll come and see him as soon as I can.’

  ‘Thank you, Kannon.’

  He hung up.

  My phactor rang. It was Constan.

  I took a deep breath and answered with, ‘How is he? Do you know yet?’

  ‘Calm down, Kannon. Marshal Honeycutt’s over at Letterman Army Hospital in the Presidio. He’s still in surgery.’ Constan paused. ‘It’ll be hours before we know anything for sure … but the doctors think he should pull through.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Relief cascaded through me. ‘I’ll get straight over there.’

  ‘You can’t, Kannon, the hospital won’t let you near him. I don’t know why but Daniel’s under twenty-four-hour guard. And Brigham left specific orders to keep you away from him.’

  What the hell was going on? Brigham didn’t really think I’d hurt Honeycutt.

  ‘Kannon, why is Brigham —’

  ‘… Keeping me away from Honeycutt? Because he wants to quash the results of our investigation, Constan. He wants to get to Honeycutt first and find a way to shut him up.’

  ‘Shut him up?’ He was shocked. ‘About who killed Earl Curtis?’