by Mark Nolan
I’m in bed with a blonde model from Sweden. The single life is not so bad after all.
When Kelli came out of the head, she was wearing her dress and holding her purse. It appeared that she was getting ready to leave. She was smiling fondly at Jake, so he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, why the rush.
Jake smiled and said, “Got a really early manicure appointment?”
Kelli laughed softly and shook her head at him. Cody started barking and growling in a way that warned Jake there was a stranger approaching. A few seconds later a beep tone sound came from a speaker.
Jake pulled a pistol out of a thick hollowed-out book from the bookshelf. The book was a Constitutional Law textbook about the Second Amendment. The pistol appeared so suddenly that Kelli let out a little shriek.
“Don’t worry Kelli, this is simply for your own protection,” Jake said. He gave her a reassuring smile as he pulled on a pair of pants.
“Please be careful Jake, I texted my limo driver to come here and pick me up; don’t shoot him.”
Jake nodded and turned on the TV and adjusted it to show a night vision video feed of the dock. A very large Hawaiian-looking man wearing a nicely tailored suit was walking slowly toward the yacht with his hands held out to his sides in plain sight, quite purposely and politely.
“Is that big island bruddah guy your driver?”
“Yes, that’s Mano Makua, one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet… as long as you don’t make him angry.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. He’s a big, solid guy, was he a wrestler or something?
“No he told me he used to be a ukulele player in a Hawaiian group that played live music for hotel luaus at Waikiki Beach,” Kelli said. “But then a foreign corporation bought the hotel and switched to cheaper recorded music. He moved to the mainland and got this job as a limo driver.”
As Jake moved about, Kelli looked closer at his bare chest and back and saw that he had quite a variety of scars on his body. During the heat of their passion, she hadn’t noticed how many there were.
Jake grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and put it on as he walked through the salon area and out the sliding glass door at the stern of the vessel. Cody followed him and snarled at the visitor who was approaching on the wooden dock. Jake gave Cody the command to stand by and wait for a threatening move from the intruder. Cody stopped barking and stayed by Jake’s side, but he kept his eyes on the visitor, ready to attack him at the slightest provocation.
“Who are you and how can I help you?” Jake said.
Jake held the pistol in his hand but didn’t point it at the man.
“Mano Makua, I’m a limo driver, here to pick up Miss Kelli.”
“Do you play the ukulele?”
The big man stared at Jake’s face, and looked at the pistol for a moment. He glanced at the dog that was showing his teeth. He took a breath, raised his eyebrows and said, “Why do you ask?”
Jake smiled then and said, “Kelli said you do. I play the guitar, so maybe you and I could jam to some Hawaiian songs.”
Jake put the pistol away in the back of his pants waistband. Mano finally smiled then, and he seemed to make the decision that this guy on the boat was okay.
“Sure, we could jam sometime if you’ve got good beer,” Mano said.
“I’ve got some Longboard Lager, and some Pipeline Porter from Kona Brewing in Hawaii.”
“Well alright then.”
“Mano is a Hawaiian name, isn’t it?
“Yes it means shark,” Mano said, and he smiled, showing his teeth.
Kelli stepped onto the dock, put her arms around Jake and gave him a long kiss. Mano took a few steps down the dock to give Kelli some privacy.
“Jake you’ll always be my knight in shining armor,” Kelli said. “But I can’t be tied down right now. I have to go to Hollywood and put my blonde ambition to work on my career. I hope you understand.”
Jake knew this was coming, and he said, “Of course, but if you ever find yourself in a bikini and handcuffs again, you know who to call.”
She laughed and kissed him again as if one of them was a sailor going off to sea for a year. Then she set off walking barefoot on the dock and toward the parking lot and the limousine, with Cody trotting along protectively beside her.
Mano and Jake waited a moment before following Kelli, and Mano said quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her act this way. Just FYI, if you were to break her heart, I’d have to break your neck.”
Mano said it with a big smile, and Jake returned the smile and said, “Of course, and the same goes for you.”
“She’s a very independent woman, she’s in charge of her sexuality and she makes the rules in her relationships, so this is probably just a one night stand,” Mano said, and he shrugged his massive shoulders.
“I feel so used,” Jake said.
Mano smiled and shook his head.
“But used in a good way,” Jake said. “And it sounds like you might be speaking from experience.”
Mano didn’t reply; he just glanced ahead at Kelli, as if a memory had come to mind. He started walking toward the limousine, and Jake did too.
“I understand what you are saying, though,” Jake said. “She already gave me the ‘sorry but I can’t be tied down’ talk.”
Mano nodded and said, “Thanks for being there for her at the scene of the crime. When the cops arrived, my boss ordered me to stay away and told me that an attorney would handle it. I argued with her but in the end, I had to leave Kelli alone, and I’m still bothered about that.”
“That attorney was the only one who could have handled it,” Jake said. “There was nothing you could have done, except get arrested and have your face appear on the news.”
When they reached the parking lot, Jake opened his Jeep and took out Bart Bartholomew’s long overcoat. He held it up for Kelli to put on and she kissed him again. Cody put his head under Kelli’s hand, and she petted him. The two men shook hands and exchanged business cards.
“Hawaiian beers and a ukulele jam on the boat,” Jake said.
“I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll bring the Maui Wauwie ganja,” Mano said.
Kelli patted Cody on the head one last time and said, “Cody you take good care of Jake for me, okay?”
Cody barked once and nodded his head. Mano opened the limousine’s back door for Kelli, and she waved goodbye to Jake and got into the backseat. Jake smiled and waved in return as Mano closed Kelli’s door and got into the driver’s seat. When the limo drove off, Kelli turned her head and looked back at Jake from behind the darkened windows.
Kelli had the realization that Jake was the only man she’d made love to in recent memory where she hadn’t closed her eyes and fantasized about a Hollywood movie star. She wondered about the days to come. If she made love to some famous actor in Hollywood, would she close her eyes and fantasize about Jake?
Jake stood there and watched the limo take Kelli away. He had a lot of mixed feelings, but he was sure of one thing, he’d never met anyone quite like her before. In retrospect, he realized that she had “loved him and left him,” in a similar way to what many men did to women. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. That was okay, it had been a memorable experience. And Kelli had helped him to break free of his past with Gwen, and begin to move on with his new life.
At one point in the evening, it had felt so right being together with Kelli that Jake had thought maybe they might have a future together. But later when they were half asleep in his bed, holding onto each other and talking quietly, Kelli had mentioned how much she liked Jake’s yacht and that he must have a lot of money in the bank to be able to afford it. Jake had told Kelli the truth. He was couch surfing on his friend’s yacht, and he wasn’t a rich man.
Jake had felt a change come over Kelli then, a kind of bittersweet acceptance. It was as if she’d always known in her heart that Jake was too down to earth and real to be the kind of wealthy trophy husband she was looking for. She’d
snuggled up extra close to him then, realizing that this was going to be her first and last time in bed with him, and she wanted to savor the experience while it lasted.
That was fine with Jake; he didn’t let it get him down. He was very fond of Kelli, but she was on a different path in life than he was, and it just wasn’t meant to be. He would always have fond memories of their one evening together, and he was thankful that they had been there for each other when they’d both needed a friend.
Jake called to Cody, who was sniffing around the area. Cody came trotting over to him, and the two of them walked back to the Far Niente. Cody went inside, walked in a circle three times and curled up on the floor near the couch. Jake started to follow Cody inside the yacht, but he stopped when he saw something on the deck, off to the side of the sliding door, in a shadow. The dark shape looked like the purse-sized small pistol he’d given to Gwen some time ago.
Jake took a small Swiss Army knife out of the coin pocket of his jeans. He opened the blade, put it through the pistol guard and picked up the small Glock 26 pistol without touching it with his hands, so as not to leave his prints on it. He went inside, locked the door behind him and brought the concealed-carry pistol known as the “Baby Glock” to Cody and held it in front of him.
“Did you leave this by the door for me?” Jake said.
Cody sat up, sniffed the pistol and then barked once and nodded his head.
“Let me guess, you caught Gwen coming to the boat to shoot me with this, and you disarmed her without injuring her,” Jake said.
Cody growled at the pistol and then flopped back down onto the floor and exhaled loudly. He raised one eyebrow at Jake as if to say, “Duh.”
“Nice work buddy, thanks.”
Jake put the pistol in a drawer near the bar and then walked to the bedroom, got into bed, pulled up the covers, and fell back to sleep. Cody stood up and followed Jake, got onto his dog bed, stretched out and closed his eyes.
While Jake slept he dreamed that he and Kelli were living on the Far Niente and sailing around the Hawaiian Islands. Kelli wore the pink bikini and heart shaped sunglasses, and Jake was in board shorts, flip-flops, and Ray-Ban shades. They drank cold beers, and Jake played the ukulele while Cody napped on the deck and occasionally barked at passing dolphins. And the money they needed to support their lifestyle kept on showing up by automatic bank deposit from… somewhere.
Chapter 54
Zhukov drove the car around in the dark, crisscrossing the streets of San Francisco. He was scouting out an escape route relating to the attack on his next target, the female lawyer. He’d decided to change the plan and improvise a bit, due to the meddling of Jake Wolfe. That fool was a distraction and a pest that needed to be exterminated. Perhaps he should kill Wolfe by sneaking onto the yacht in the middle of the night when the man was asleep, and shooting him in the head.
While Zhukov was driving, his phone vibrated, and he received a text from Banks. He didn’t want to communicate with the bothersome snob right now, but it was probably best to just get it over with. He was passing by a quiet parking lot, so he pulled the car into the lot and read the text.
Banks wrote, “Sorry for the late hour, but The Council has formally requested that you and I have a quick meeting tonight. I propose that we do it while we enjoy the cigars and brandy that I’d mentioned earlier.”
The words ‘formally requested’ were a code that meant it was a condition of his employment contract, and he was required to do it if he wanted to get paid.
Zhukov texted to Banks, “Alright but it is bad timing right now. I’ll text you in a few minutes.”
For a moment, Zhukov debated in his mind about where to meet with Banks and his driver. He could go park the car at a hotel as he had for other meetings, and then walk or take a taxi to another hotel. But this parking lot was very quiet, and he’d seen a taxi stand a few blocks away where he could grab a cab. With a fatalistic shrug, Zhukov parked the car in a numbered space, got out and walked over to the old style pay kiosk. The lot was the type that didn’t have a full-time attendant. Someone just stopped by a few times a day to collect the cash. Zhukov put some bills into the slot for the numbered space where he’d parked, and then he walked several blocks away to the taxi stand where he caught a cab.
After changing taxis and locations twice, as was his habit, Zhukov sent a text to Banks and met up with the limousine driven by the same Indian man with the British accent. The driver pushed a button, and all of the windows rolled down, and the trunk popped unlocked as usual. Banks was sitting in the back seat and looking bemused at this precaution and how quickly Zhukov had trained his driver to do it for him. Zhukov checked the trunk and then got into the back seat next to Banks. The windows went up, and the limousine drove off. When they were underway, Banks pressed a button that raised the privacy partition up between the driver and the back seat.
“May I offer you some cognac and a cigar?” Banks said.
“That will do nicely, thanks,” Zhukov said. “Speaking of cigars, I happen to have a couple of special ones with me if you’d like to try them.”
Zhukov reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced a slim black leather cigar holder. He opened it and took out two 97-rated Padron 1926 cigars.
“Those are fabulous cigars, I’d be honored to take you up on the offer,” Banks said. “And allow me to provide you with a snifter of Hennessy XO Extra Old Cognac.”
“Good choice, one of my favorites,” Zhukov said.
They toasted the “foot” ends of the cigars and poured the cognac. Banks puffed and exhaled and said, “Ah, the characteristic Padron flavor. These cigars are hard to find, you must have paid a premium for them.”
“Oh I got, what you might call, a real steal on them,” Zhukov said.
The two limousine passengers made small talk for a while as they drove around the city, hidden from view behind darkened, bulletproof windows. Soon the polite necessities were dispensed with, and Banks got down to business.
“The reason for this talk is that the Council is getting concerned,” Banks said. “They are asking you to give them an exact time that the woman will be shot.”
“Tell them they should not push me,” Zhukov said. “It will be done very soon, at a time and place of my choosing.”
“I tried to explain that to them.”
“Tell them I was planning to kill the photojournalist in his sleep tonight, but you and your council interrupted my work with this impromptu meeting.”
“Sorry about that old chap, I’ll ask the council to avoid meddling in your work. They are a demanding group of individuals, and they lose patience quickly.”
“I’m losing patience with them as well.”
“My concern is that they could vote to have you replaced with another contractor, and if I’m outvoted there is nothing that can be done about it.”
Zhukov smiled sadly at Banks for a long moment.
Banks thought it was a smile so sad and melancholy that only a Russian could do it.
“Let me show you something,” Zhukov said.
He tapped his phone screen several times and held it up so Banks could see it. The phone displayed the live feed from a video camera. They could both see a man standing in a garden, with his back to them. The man appeared to be smoking a cigarette.
“See that person facing away from us?” Zhukov said. “Now watch the back of his coat.”
Banks looked at the video on the phone and saw a round green circle with crosshairs appear on the man’s back. It was the same thing a sniper would see while looking through a rifle scope that had an illuminated reticle.
Zhukov moved his finger over the phone’s touch screen, and the crosshair reticle roamed over the man’s back, and then settled on his head.
“That targeting crosshair is from one of my remote controlled weapons, similar to the crossbow that killed attorney Max Vidallen from afar,” Zhukov said. “This crosshair is inside the camera lens and is not vis
ible to anyone but us. The man and his bodyguards have no idea I’m pointing a weapon at him.”
Banks saw the crosshair image vanish, and then the man turned and walked a dog on a leash. When the man faced to the right, Banks recognized him as one of the Council members from France. He was a dealer in priceless paintings, a multimillionaire and a supposedly untouchable man.
Banks felt himself beginning to sweat as he realized that Zhukov could kill the wealthy and powerful man right now, by remote control, from the other side of the world. He could probably kill any of the Council members just as easily too, including Banks himself.
“That man goes out to that garden on his property at all hours of the day and night,” Zhukov said. “He smokes his Gauloises cigarettes and walks his dog. Sometimes he makes a phone call, and I can hear his side of the conversation. He must be an insomniac because he is there regularly, no matter what time it is or what the weather is like.”
“Quite amazing, I must admit,” Banks said. He had to make an effort to keep his composure.
“Perhaps I should kill him right now as you watch, just to send a message to your Council,” Zhukov said. “If I press my fingertip right here, with one touch on my phone screen I can blow his head off.”
“That won’t be necessary, this has been demonstration enough, simply more proof that you are the absolute best in the business,” Banks said. “No need to send the message. I’ll tell them you are following your plan, and they need to be patient.”
“I have many other surprises like that, installed all over the world, just waiting for a signal from me,” Zhukov said. “Or if I should unexpectedly die or disappear and not check-in for a set amount of time, the signals will come from an automated computer system on a botnet that I have set up to avenge my death. Modern technology is truly frightening, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, and ingenious, I’m highly impressed,” Banks said.
Banks was almost speechless, but he tried not to show his fear. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he took a much-needed drink from his snifter of cognac.
