Franklin spoke as if everything he said should have been obvious to John. “Sabrina's husband of course. Her husband being Rudolph Ranulph. Better known as Double-R.”
“I'm searching the name now, sir,” said Timothy in his ear.
Sabrina hadn't mentioned that she was married but then she hadn't looked like the kind of person who would drive the black Humvee that had been parked outside her house.
He continued to stare at Franklin, willing him to reveal some more information without him having to ask. But Franklin had begun to pick the dirt out of his fingernails and wasn't even looking at him.
“Is that Double-R the gangster?” said Marla.
Franklin looked up. “I'd hardly call him a gangster. He's not much more than a petty thief really.”
John turned to Marla, “you know him?”
“I've run into him a few times. Franklin's right though, he's not big time. This doesn't sound like the kind of thing he would be mixed up in.”
“I've found him sir,” said Timothy so that only John could hear him. “There isn't much though I'm afraid. Rudolph Ranulph is a suspected drug dealer and trafficker. He is married to Sabrina Ranulph. He is not believed to be someone the BHI is interested in.”
“It wouldn't hurt to pay him a visit though,” said John.
Marla shrugged.
They thanked Franklin, although it almost physically hurt John to do so. He hated dealing with him but sometimes his job meant dealing with people he would rather avoid.
10
Marla parked the car outside the large gates. This was a more respectable area and somewhere the chief of police could apparently afford to be seen.
“Is your gun charged?” he said, remembering the last time he had been there and found Sandra's body.
Marla nodded.
They climbed out of the car and walked across to the gate. It was locked. John pressed the intercom button and they waited.
“Yes?” said a gruff eastern European voice a few moments later.
John was about to reply but Marla cut him off. “Mr Ranulph? This is Marla Springer, I wonder if I could have a word?”
There were muffled voices in the background, someone swore. The intercom went dead and a few moments later the front door of the house swung open.
A large set man, who was mostly hidden by shadow, ran across the front lawn and into the black Humvee that John had seen before. The engine gunned and the gates started to open.
“Get out of the way,” said Marla and grabbed John's hand, dragging him towards her as the car came flying out of the still opening gates.
The car barely fit through the gap and scratched a large gash along its side. It clipped the front of Marla's car, already moving with enough speed to turn the front away from the curb and leave a dent big enough to see from where they were taking cover.
“Shit!” said Marla walking back to inspect the damage.
John was already opening the passenger door. “Come on,” he said.
She climbed in and started the engine. “That bastard.” She pulled away from the curb and drove after the Humvee. “This car's brand new.”
“Lets catch him then,” said John, impatient to be moving quicker than the hybrid engine seemed capable of.
Fortunately neither car was fast. Humvee's weren't really designed to be fast and they were soon gaining on it. Marla turned on the petrol engine and soon they were close enough to read the registration plate on the back.
John reached into his jacket and took out his pulse gun.
“You can't shoot him,” said Marla.
“What am I supposed to do then?” he said.
They were alongside the other car now and Marla gunned the engine.
“Hold on to something,” she said.
John looked around but there were no handles. Instead he braced himself between the glove compartment and his seat.
Marla got the car in front of the Humvee and then pulled in front of it, turning the car to force the other driver off the road.
John heard the squeal of breaks and then a loud bang which he felt all the way up his arms and into his back. The little hybrid seemed to be moving upwards and he looked down on Marla. She had her lips pursed and her brow furrowed with concentration.
The Humvee stopped and the hybrid flipped onto its roof but didn't go any further.
“Are you alright?” said Marla, turning off the engine. She seemed completely calm, as if this had just been another text-book park.
“I'm fine,” said John, undoing his seatbelt and opening the door.
The driver of the Humvee was already on his feet and running towards the trees at the side of the road.
“Freeze,” said John raising his pulse gun.
The man turned to see him, saw his gun and stopped.
“Hands in the air,” said John.
The man looked at him and spoke with the accent they had heard on the intercom. “You're kidding yes? That's not a real weapon. Looks like toy.”
John pointed the gun at the tree next to the man and pulled the trigger. The tree briefly caught fire and then fell to the ground as a pile of ashes.
The man raised his hands.
Marla joined John and looked at the tree he had just destroyed. She wouldn't be happy about it but he wasn't going to let this guy get away again.
“Hello Rudolph,” said Marla. “Were you going somewhere?”
“You have nothing on me police lady,” he said.
“Well you total'd my car,” she said. “How's that for starters?”
Rudolph shrugged. “I buy you new one. Fair's fair.”
“Why were you running Rudolph?” she said. “What have you got to hide.”
“I tell you nothing,” he said.
The pulse gun buzzed in John's hand to confirm that it had recharged and was ready to be fired again.
“Come on Rudolph,” said Marla. “We're friends aren't we? How about you invite us back to your house for a drink?”
Rudolph actually seemed to be considering this but in the end he shook his head. “No thank you police lady.”
“Your sister in-law was murdered at your house,” said John.
Rudolph glanced at him and then back at Marla. “Who is this monkey?” he said.
“He's someone you can help,” said Marla.
Rudolph shrugged and turned back to John. “Yes she was murdered. I have alibi.”
A car slowed down as it approached Marla's upturned hybrid but then quickly sped up as the driver saw the three of them standing on the road with a gun.
John lowed the gun and put it back in the holster under his jacket. He could get it out again quickly if he needed to but Rudolph didn't look like he was going anywhere now.
“Sir,” said Timothy. “I have been continuing a search based on the known people and places in this investigation. I think you should see this.”
John nodded to agree, neither Marla nor Rudolph seemed to notice.
An image appeared in front of him. Projected onto his contact lenses so that only he could see it but it seemed to hover in the air between him and Rudolph.
There were two men. One was obviously the heavy eastern European man now standing in front of him in real life, the other was a slimmer man dressed in a suit.
“His name is Gregory Sanctuary,” said Timothy. “This is CCTV footage taken eight days ago.”
They were standing in an alleyway between two buildings. John didn't recognise where. Rudolph was waving his arms around and Gregory appeared to be trying to pacify him. There was no sound. After a moment Rudolph turned to walk away, John could just see the front of his car at the top of the image. Gregory walked after him and put a hand on his shoulder, Rudolph turned around and punched him. The smaller man fell to the floor and Rudolph walked away.
“Is he mute or something?” said Rudolph in the real world.
The image vanished.
“Tell me about your relationship with your brother in-law,” h
e said.
“I don't know who you mean,” said Rudolph, some of the confidence had gone from his voice.
“Gregory Sanctuary,” said John. “The husband of the woman who was murdered in your house.”
Rudolph looked at Marla and then back at John. “I don't understand.”
“You were seen with Mr Sanctuary eight days ago.”
Rudolph shrugged.
“Words were said.”
He shrugged again.
“You punched him.”
“Mother fucker,” said Rudolph and he started to laugh. “He came to you?”
John looked at Marla but she was still looking at Rudolph.
She didn't confirm his suspicion that Gregory had spoken to them but she didn't contradict it either. “I know you Rudolph,” she said. “You're not a bad guy. He's got something on you hasn't he?”
“Hey man,” said Rudolph. “What kind of sucker do you take me for?”
Marla said nothing and John followed her lead.
“You think I'm going up against Sanctuary? You might as well shoot me now.”
“Can I?” said John to Marla. He wouldn't have minded pulsing Rudolph, the guy was a double-talking asshole.
Marla ignored him. “What's he got in you R?”
Rudolph shook his head: “He doesn't need anything on me. He doesn't need anything on anybody. He's Gregory fucking Sanctuary, he tells you to do something you better fucking do it.”
“You punched him,” said John.
“Heat of the moment. He's over it now.”
“Why did you hit him?”
“Business is business. It got a little heated. We done here?”
John looked at Marla, he had nothing left but at least he knew where to go next.
“Get out of here Rudolph,” said Marla.
He climbed back in his car, flipped John the bird and reversed away.
11
Marla made coffee while John sat in his office thinking over everything that had happened so far:
- a woman had called asking for his help but hadn't said what help she needed.
- Sandra had come to his house saying her sister was missing.
- Sandra had been killed.
- Sandra's sister, Sabrina had come to his house asking for help.
- he had found clones of the sisters at Coblance labs
- Stafford had been kidnapped.
He looked down at the piece of paper. It didn't really cover everything. There were also things that he knew:
- Coblance and BHI had once been connected by members of the board on both.
- Sandra's husband was currently a high ranking person within Coblance.
- Gregory Sanctuary was dealing with his brother in-law, Rudolph Ranulph, a small time drug dealer and trafficker.
“How are you getting on?” said Marla walking into his office. Somehow she'd managed to get past all of the security and John supposed he should be concerned but really he was just happy to see her.
“None of it makes any sense,” he said.
She put a cup of fresh coffee down in front of him and he slid the two lists across the desk. She read them.
“A lot of this is supposition,” she said. “You don't even know for sure that Sandra was killed.”
“I saw her,” he said. “She was dead.”
“But you're pinning a murder on someone when it might have been suicide or an accident. We don't even know the cause of death.”
“Oh come on,” he said.
She stepped back. “All I'm saying is this wouldn't stand up in court. There's no evidence.”
“So I'm supposed to ... what exactly?”
“Just keep an open mind. You've only got their word that they were even sisters.”
“They looked identical.”
“There's plastic surgery,” she said. “Or maybe they were both clones of someone else.”
He shook his head. “I already thought of that. I ran their pictures through a search and nothing comes up.”
“Sir?” said Timothy. His voice came through one of the many hidden speakers in the room so Marla could hear him too.
“Hi Tim,” she said.
“Good evening madam,” he replied. If John didn't know any better he would have sworn Timothy was smiling.
“What is it?” said John.
“Sir, I have been scanning the police frequencies for anything relating to the case.”
He looked at Marla, she looked amused rather than angry which was good.
“I have just picked up a report that Mrs Sabrina Ranulph has been found dead.”
Marla already had her phone out and was calling the station. John's mouth had gone dry, he picked up his coffee and took several loud gulps.
John put the cup down and stood up.
“Two seconds,” said Marla to whoever had picked up the phone. Then she said to John, “what are you doing?”
He shook his head, he felt dazed. This wasn't his job, he wasn't a police officer and he wasn't a detective. He was a bounty hunter. He killed things that weren't human to stop them hurting members of his own species. Now two people were dead because he hadn't been able to figure out what was going on.
“I need to get out of here,” he said and walked to the door.
“I'll call you back,” said Marla to whoever she was on the phone to. Then she stood up and followed John out of the room.
She caught up with him on the stairs. He was sitting on the third floor balcony with his head in his hands. She squeezed in beside him and put arm around his back. “You doing alright?” she said.
He shook his head. He had no secrets from Marla.
“Sir,” said Timothy in his ear.
He pulled out the earpiece and threw it down the stairs. It wouldn't damage the program and Timothy would still be able to communicate with him via the integral house speakers and microphones.
“Feel better?” said Marla.
“Not really.”
It wasn't that being a bounty hunter was easy. It involved a certain amount of creative thinking just to stay alive. But tracking down a murderer and unravelling a conspiracy was something else entirely. Except for the clones, which he reminded himself might be completely unrelated, this didn't even fall into the strange and paranormal category.
Marla rubbed his back and didn't say anything. She knew exactly what he needed, she always did; someone to be there with him to sit in silence with him. He knew that she had paused a phone call to be there and he knew that it was probably important. The fact that she had done that for him made him realise how much she cared. However much they might pretend, they were not just ships that passed in the night. Lovers and friends but no more. He'd always known he would fall in love with Marla Springer.
Marla's phone rang. She looked down at the display and rejected the call.
“I don't think I'm cut out for this,” said John.
“That's nonsense,” said Marla. “This is exactly what your cut out for.”
He shook his head, maybe she didn't understand. “I'm just a gun jockey,” he said. “Show me where to shoot and I'll pull the trigger. This is brain work. Your people should be handling this.”
“My people?” she said, sounding surprised. “You want detective family man and detective eager to prove himself going up against the BHI?”
“They're probably not even involved,” he said. “This is just a straight forward murder case with a little icing.”
She shook her head. “That was the forensic lab on the phone before. Do you know what they told me?”
“Obviously not.”
She ignored his sulky tone and continued. “Sandra and Sabrina shouldn't be dead.”
That seemed obvious enough. Two women in their prime who described themselves as 'lucky'? Of course they shouldn't be dead.
“Everything checks out fine,” continued Marla. “No injuries, all their organs are healthy. Even their hearts look like they should still be pumping blood. It's like so
meone just pressed a switch and turned them off.”
John nodded, he wasn't too hot on his biology but he knew a mystery when he heard one.
“So how are my boys supposed to investigate that? It doesn't look like anyone murdered them.”
“They did though,” said John.
Marla nodded. “Of course they did, we know that, but how? I can't spend department money investigating a murder that doesn't look like it happened.”
John understood. He might not be the best person for the job but it seemed he was the only one. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “You've convinced me.”
12
John helped Marla stand and kissed her. He didn't tell her he loved her but suspected she knew. Maybe she even felt the same way. One day he might find out but that wouldn't be today.
“Sir?” said Timothy over the house system.
“What is it?” he said letting go of Marla and feeling the absence of her warmth.
“There is a message for you.”
Marla's phone started to ring. “I need to take this,” she said and put the phone to her ear.
John walked back up the stairs and into his office. “Play message.”
The speakers crackled into life and a familiar amphibious voice could be heard. “John? John can you hear me?”
The communication went dead. “Is that it?” he said.
“No sir, there is a second message.”
“Play it then,” he said.
Another voice spoke, this time the clarity was crystal clear. It was not a voice John recognised but he suspected he knew who it belonged to. “Mr Kable? Did our friend get your attention? Good. This is a friendly warning; stay out of my business.”
The line went dead and somewhere in the house John heard glass explode. “Marla!” he shouted and ran out of the room.
He found her on the floor in the spare bedroom. The window shattered and the wall around it scorched black. Her phone was laying on the floor behind her, smashed to pieces. He stood in the door for a moment, couldn't believe what he was seeing. How could this have happened?
“Are you going to stand there all day or offer me a hand?” said Marla. She sounded weary. Which he supposed was understandable.
Three Stories Tall Page 12
