Starvation Mountain

by Robert Gilberg

  “No, why?”

  “Because if we miss a print and the investigators find it, there won’t be a match for it. They’ll only be able to match your prints if they come up with a reason to print you.”

  “Whatever you say. Sounds like you’ve been through something like this before.”

  “Yes, but not as a suspect, more like as a third party. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Let’s get going.”

  Hours later, they’d wiped down everything Penny believed she’d touched, but it was a guessing game. She knew there had to be things she’d touched without knowing or had forgotten. It was a Hail Mary.

  “Penny, we’re going straight to my place. I don’t think you should go to your apartment to get anything right now. We’ll wait to make sure it’s safe and that no one is watching or waiting before we do that.”

  “You sound like you’ve been through this before, too.”

  “I have. It’s the story I said I’ll tell you about some time . . . . Trust me.”

  “I do trust you.”

  “Okay, follow me in your car.”

  They found the driver’s side door of Penny’s Mustang unlocked, probably opened with the use of a Slim Jim or something similar since the door was undamaged. Except for bent trunk sheet metal, the car looked untouched. But there was no doubt it had been searched: the floor mats were rolled back and the console lid left wide open. The damaged trunk lid, standing open by a few inches, clearly had been jimmied. After Jim used a piece of utility cord to tie the trunk down, Penny tossed her suitcase on the rear seat, started the engine, and followed Jim to his home.

  Nine - Shelter

  Jim’s house in La Jolla Colony, San Diego, the next morning

  “That’s my cell phone ringing,” Penny said with surprise, as she and Jim were finishing breakfast.

  “So?”

  “Only a few people have that number, so I hardly ever get calls on it. It always surprises me when I do. I only use it for emergencies or making calls to people who are close friends.”

  “Maybe it’s one of those friends?”

  “No; caller ID says it’s coming from the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department. I wonder if it’s Mack calling from jail?”

  “This should be interesting. Are you going to answer it?”

  “Damn right! I’m going to tell him that I’m out of his thing—whatever it is.” She set the cellphone in speaker mode, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Penny. What’s going on? I tried calling you at the office and then the cabin with no answers, so I’m calling your cell.”

  “Mack, how did you get this number? I didn’t give it to you.”

  “Yes, you did. Don’t you remember—the night you were at my apartment?”

  Embarrassed he said that with Jim listening, and knowing it was a lie, Penny wanted to end the debate. “I don’t give my cell number to anyone, Mack!”

  “Okay, have it your way; I got it from information.”

  “That’s bullshit, Mack. Screw it, what do you want?”

  “Why aren’t you at Ramona?”

  “Because I quit. There’s something going on that scares me and I don’t want to be involved in whatever the hell it is. I don’t trust this deal, Mack.”

  “What are you talking about? What do you think is going on?”

  With ice in her voice, Penny said, “Someone raided the cabin over the weekend. They tore the whole damn place apart searching for something. I don’t need this, Mack. I’m trying to move on from my last job to something new, and I run into this? Fuck it, Mack! Where do you want me to leave the keys?”

  “Wait, Penny. Not so fast. Can you tell if anything was taken? Or what they seemed to be looking for?”

  “How would I know? I didn’t make a list of all your stuff when I moved in, so how would I know what all is supposed to be there?”

  “Did you see anything that looks like notes, or a warning, or clues?”

  “Notes? Clues? What are you talking about? Do you think they would leave some mysterious, cryptic messages that only you’d know about? Or a note asking where the hell something is? I didn’t see anything but a wrecked cabin. This is crazy, Mack! Where do you want me to leave the keys?”

  “Wait, I’m trying to think. Jesus, I’m stuck here in this jail cell, and my brain is rotting away. Okay, let’s do this. I’ll call Gary and tell him to meet you at the cabin to pick up the keys. That way he can check things out for me at the same time.”

  “No, Mack. I’m not going back up there. There could be someone watching the place, waiting for someone—like me, for Christ’s sake—to come back. Look, Mack, I’m done with this.” Then, looking at Jim with a questioning look, “Tell Gary that I’ll meet him in the front of the warehouse and drop the keys with him there.”

  Jim nodded his head in agreement, mouthing the words, “Good idea”.

  “Where are you now, at your condo? I can have Gary go there if that’s what you want.”

  “No, Mack, I’m with a friend.”

  “Well, just go to your place whenever you want and I’ll have Gary meet you there.”

  “No, I’m staying away from there until I feel safe. I don’t know if they were looking for something related to you, or if they’re after me, for God’s sake! All I know is that nothing like this ever happened to me before I got involved with your ‘businesses,’” Penny said, sarcastically.

  “Okay, if that’s the only way you’ll do it, I guess so,” Mack said.

  “It is, Mack. Sorry about this, but I’m out! And tell Gary it has to be in daylight: make it twelve o’clock, noon!”

  “It’s too bad, Penny. You’re a good person. I think this could have worked out for us.”

  “Maybe, Mack. But I don’t need this in my life.”

  “Yeah, sweetie; I know what you’re sayin’ . . . . Goes for me, too! Be talking to you.”

  Penny furiously clicked her phone off.

  “What’s all this with the keys? What’s the big deal with some keys to a shack on a mountain and that office,” Jim asked Penny.

  “I’d better show you.” Penny went to the kitchen island where she’d left her purse and pulled out a ring of keys. “Here they are; must weigh five pounds.”

  “Jesus, Penny, there are more keys there than needed for a one door, two-room cabin and a one-room office and warehouse. That’s enough for a small town!”

  “Yeah, I know. He marked the ones I needed with stickers, but the rest are unmarked, and I don’t have a clue what they’re for.”

  “I’ve got a feeling it’s those other keys that this is all about.”

  “Could be; there’s a safe in the office he told me he didn’t want me to try opening, and a special room he called a ‘tool room’ where he said he keeps some valuable, antique tools he inherited from his dad. He told me not to worry about that room, and not to try going in.”

  “I wonder if you somehow ended up with the wrong set of keys . . . .”

  “Jesus, now that you mention it, maybe that’s it! I might have a set of keys I’m not supposed to have. I think I should get rid of them fast.”

  “Agreed. Let’s go up there later today to look the place over before we do the drop.”

  “Can’t be soon enough for me. I’m worried.”

  “Okay, here’s how I think we should do this. We’ll ride up there on one of my bikes. I have an abandoned, out-of-state, motorcycle license plate that’s not associated with my name I’ll put on my fastest bike. We can’t be tracked by the license plate, and no one will ever catch us on that bike. When Gary calls to set the day and time, you’re going to tell him you’ll meet him in the center of the parking lot. You’re not going into the building under any circumstance. We’ll ride up to where he’s standing and toss the keys to him and blast away. I want to do it so fast that no one can tail us. I don’t trust anyone involved with Mack and whatever he’s doing.”

  “Okay. I like this plan—and that you’re here helping me, Jim.”

&n
bsp; “I like that you’re here with me—period, Penny. And one more thing, if Gary calls and wants to do it today, tell him no, you want to do it tomorrow, or even the day after.”

  “But why? I want to get away from this as fast as possible.”

  “Because I want to see what we’ll be getting into. We’ll drive up there today in my car and check it out. I want to make sure we can get in and out without being trapped.”

  “You’re as suspicious of all this as much as I am—or even more! Why?”

  “Add it up: Mack is in jail with a huge bail bond he can’t pay, and his lawyer hasn’t managed to get him out yet. He has this mysterious motorcycle business up in Ramona that’s probably a front, and then there’s his cabin on a remote mountain—that smells like a bale of marijuana—and has now been raided.”

  “I know. I just wanted to hear it coming from you to see if it’s as bad as I’ve been imagining it.”

  “It is. How did you ever get involved with this ‘Mack’?” Jim asked as he walked to the side wall of the adjoining office and, using a large skeleton key, opened the lower drawer of a massive armoire positioned next to a matching, also massive, oak desk. He lifted a heavy pistol from the drawer. “Just in case.”

  “I don’t know. It . . . it was one of those things,” Penny answered, looking despondent. “I guess I’m what you would call a ‘middle-aged woman’ with little going for me: no savings, no real home, no family, and feeling like I need to make a big change. You know, the money was good, so it was a grab at the brass ring kinda thing.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that, Penny. Looks like the grab was a big miss.”

  “No kidding!” Then Penny shivered and said, “I hope it doesn’t come to something like that gun suggests. Maybe I should just mail the damn keys to him.”

  “I’d be okay with that. When the mysterious Mr. Gary calls, try it on him. In the meanwhile, I think we need to take care of ourselves,” Jim said, patting the gun.

  “Why do you have that? Those things make me nervous.”

  “Don’t worry, Penny. I’ve had it for a long time. Back in my years up in Silicon Valley, working with CIA, ex-CIA, NSA, ex-NSA, FBI and just plain old ex-military types, everyone carried guns. They were all licensed to carry; it was like a club, everyone packing. We used to go up into the Santa Cruz mountains and blow up a ton of cans and stuff on weekends. But, I’m licensed for this and am trained to use it only when necessary.”

  “Well, this is a side of you I didn’t expect.”

  “I don’t want to worry you over it. I’ve never shot anyone; not even a mugger. Never had the chance.”

  “Okay. I’ll think of you as a Roy Rogers kind of guy then: the gun is the last resort—right?”

  “Never had anyone accuse me of being Roy Rogers before. But I’ll take that to being compared to Gabby Hayes.”

  She gave him a little nudge with her foot and smiled, saying, “But Peter Gunn was kind of cool though . . . . Just keep it hidden so I don’t have to see it.”

  “Peter Gunn was before you were born. Why do you remember him?”

  “My dad loved that show and always wanted me to watch the reruns with him. The first time I heard that Mancini theme song with the pounding bass guitar line, and then the sax coming in, I was hooked.”

  “He carried a .38 Detective Special revolver. Easy to hide on your person and effective at close range,” Jim replied.

  “What, are you some kind of gun nut? Do I have to worry about you being one of ‘them’?”

  “It just happens that was my first gun. This is my second. I kept it because I learned to shoot with it. Sentimental, I guess. Do you want to learn to shoot it?”

  “No, my dad taught me how to shoot guns and that was enough. I don’t want them around me.”

  “Okay, but it could come in handy sometime. Look, you won’t have to think about this one, I have a special place for it on my bike. Don’t worry.”

  “Gary, give me an address I can just mail the damn keys to. I’m done with Ramona.”

  Gary’s wet, gravelly voice, suggesting either a heavy chest cold or too many cartons of cigarettes, answered. “Nah, Mack’s not gonna go for that. He wants to make an exchange. I have a check for one thousand dollars he made out to you I’m supposed to give you when you give me the keys.”

  “I . . . I don’t know . . . . Why?”

  “The bonus and back pay.”

  “Look, Gary, I’m worried about all of this and don’t want to get in any deeper. He can mail me the check.”

  “We still need the keys right away. We gotta operate the business and can’t do it without those keys.”

  “I can’t do it today. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow then; nine o’clock sharp.”

  “I can’t be there that early. I can make it at noon though.”

  “Okay, 12:00 noon; at the front door.”

  “No, Gary, I don’t have time to stop and chat. I’ll meet you in the parking lot at the sign board out near the gate and hand you the keys and leave. If you have that check, just hand it to me then.”

  “Penny, you act like you don’t trust me.”

  “Gary, I don’t know you, and there’s all kinds of shit happening that has me worried. What the hell do you expect? We have to do it this way.”

  “Okay, have it your way. See you at noon, tomorrow.”

  Acting like people out on a casual drive, Penny and Jim looked the Ramona airport over from Jim’s Porsche. They could have been wealthy aviators looking for a hanger to store an airplane, more interested in the airport and its ground support facilities than casing the dilapidated, corrugated sheet metal building across the road.

  Amazement on his face, Jim asked, “Jesus, Penny, did you look this place over before you accepted Mack’s offer? This is a dump! Were you out of your mind?”

  “I told you; I was on the rebound and needed a change, and to tell the truth, I never gave what the building looked like a thought. Mack had always been a friend who I liked—within certain limits as I told you—and the idea of getting away from the constant hassles of my job in property management in San Diego for a while seemed like a good one. That fucking telephone never stopped ringing with someone pissed about something or the other on the line. I can’t explain it, sometimes you just go with something that is contrary to what your brain says is the better thing to do. Tired of being Ms. Correct all the time, I guess.”

  “Yeah, but, this place? Look, I don’t want to second guess you; I want to help you. So that’s the office door over there at the front corner by the parking lot?”

  “Yes. And way in the back corner is the big door that opens to the warehouse. It’s almost never open.”

  “And what about the main gate, out here by the road; have you ever seen it closed and locked?”

  “Oh yes. One of the guys, John, was always around the warehouse and would wait for me to leave, and then close and lock it with the control in the office.”

  “And what then? Did he stay behind after you left?”

  “Yes. He was Mack’s security guy and stayed late most of the time. There was a cot back there, and he might even have stayed overnight sometimes.”

  “So, the front lot gate works then, and it’s always closed overnight?”

  “Yeah, probably works better than anything else out here. It shuts very fast; darn near knocks the end post over when it hits. Seems like that gate working well was a high priority.”

  “Hmmmm. What about the big sliding door; same thing?”

  “Yes, keeping things locked up tight is a big deal for Mack. Same thing, a switch in the warehouse closes it, too. There’s something called a mag-lock the gate and the sliding door both have that makes them impossible to push open after they’re closed; you cannot force them back open, even using a crowbar. But Mack’s even got padlocks and locking bars that get pushed into place after the warehouse door is shut as well.”

  “Sounds like he’s a little paranoid. Are there se
curity cameras, too?”

  “Oh yeah. Inside, outside, all around the place. There are twelve in all.”

  “Not surprising. That’s fairly common with businesses today. Okay, so I don’t see anything suspicious for us to be worried about tomorrow. The parking lot is wide open and empty except that sign. We should be able to drive in, toss the keys to Gary, keep moving in a one-eighty turn and drive on out.”

  “I hope so, Jim. Get me out of this!”

  “The only thing that bothers me a little is what you said about how fast that gate closes. We’ll need to keep an eye out for that. Someone could hit the switch before we can get out.”

  “Another good reason to meet out by the sign near the gate like I told Gary I wanted to do.”

  “Look, if he’s not out there, we’re just going to throw the keys as close to him as we can and leave. Fuck the check for $1,000. That’s easy for me to say since it would be your money, but it’s what I think we should do.”

  “I don’t want the money; it’s probably dirty money, anyway. For all we know, the cops are probably watching his bank account activity. I don’t want to have to explain anything to them.”

  “I like you, Penny Lane. You’re a smart lady. Maybe we should hang out more.”

  “Like we already aren’t, Jim Schmidt . . . ?”

  He smiled and said, “You’re a fun person. I just might show you a secret dirt trail tomorrow that we may need to use if we have to give anyone the slip.”

  “Secrets! I love secrets and secret places. Do you know many?”

  “Enough to keep you interested for a while . . . .”

  Ten - Ramona

  They took Jim’s BMW 1600 with its comfortable passenger back rest, hand hold bars, foot rests, and a top speed over 150 mph. Both wore black leathers and full-face black helmets to avoid being identified. If the keys truly were the things of highest importance, Gary wouldn’t need to see any faces.

  As they rode toward the open gate of Mack’s Ramona building, a single, large man was standing a few feet from the corner office door. The parking lot was empty except for two cars parked out near the gate. Jim suspected a trap: any innocent business-related visitors would park near the office door, not out by the road. But no one was visible in either of the parked vehicles as Jim drove intentionally near them, checking the passenger compartments before turning to head further into the lot. Penny tightened her grip around his waist as she noticed the possible trap, too. Jim had decided he should handle the keys on the logic he’d be able to throw them further—or further away—if needed at any signs of trouble. He had the keys in his left hand, keeping his right hand free to operate the throttle.