He stopped the BMW midway to the office building, still well out in the parking lot, and motioned for the man he supposed was Gary to come toward the bike. The man didn’t move, instead lifting, and opening his arms as though he didn’t understand Jim’s meaning. In the same moment, Jim realized it was probably a signal and noticed movement behind a dumpster at the far opposite corner of the office. Someone was making a break toward one of the parked cars. Jim dropped the keys near the side of the BMW to make the man waste time coming after them, popped the clutch and, using the loose parking lot gravel to skid the bike in a tight, 180-degree circle, blasted for the now-closing gate. The man running toward the parked car didn’t have a chance of getting to it in time and pulled a handgun from his trouser pocket.
Jim and Penny made it through the gate with inches to spare and were out onto the roadway before the man with the gun could get into a firing position and take aim. It could have been close—or worse—if they hadn’t made the trip the previous day and talked it over. As far as they could tell, they’d gotten away clean with no vehicles following them.
Jim used shortcuts: farm roads leading away from the airport bypassing residential and commercial areas to get to the main highway leading out of Ramona faster. He wanted to be on the major commercial road that would take them back into the San Diego metro area and Jim’s home as fast as possible. Riding much of the trip surrounded by the normal traffic on this route provided a measure of cover. Safety in numbers was his logic. It wasn’t the most scenic ride, but it was the safest.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jim asked, not Penny, but more rhetorically as they sat at the kitchen island, sipping Jack Daniels on the rocks.
“I don’t know, but the keys aren’t the only things they are after. They want me.”
“Yeah, I know. But why?”
“I don’t have a clue. I guess they think I know something that I shouldn’t know.”
“From what I understand your responsibilities were, there are far more keys on that keyring than you would have needed. Maybe they think you used them and found stuff you aren’t supposed to know about.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that too. But I’m also wondering if he . . . they . . . whoever, might think I saw something in Mack’s paperwork they didn’t want me to know about.”
“Like, maybe something that has nothing to do with hard money loans, or motorcycle parts?”
“Yes. But God knows what it might have been. I didn’t notice anything unusual.”
“Look, we don’t want to go on living under this kind of mystery for who knows how long. Here’s a thought. Why not go to the jail and confront him?”
Startled, Penny looked confused. She gathered her thoughts and said, “That might be a good idea. We could tell him to level with us and call it off, or we’ll tell the cops what’s been happening. That kind of threat might just work.”
“It’s a bold move, but it might be our best choice. Or it could make things worse. Let’s think it over and talk about it again tomorrow. Dinner?”
“Yes! Amaze me, my amazing Jim . . . .”
“Got just the place. You don’t have to change.”
“Lipstick?”
“Love you in lipstick,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek.
“Just the cheek?”
“More, later . . . .”
“What do you think?” Jim asked as they finished steaks and fries in a barn-wood café in the outskirts of El Cajon.
“Good food for a biker joint. The atmosphere is a little too funky for me, but I had to get used to places like this when Bruce . . . .”
Cutting her off from going there, Jim said, “Yeah, you’re right. But I didn’t mean the joint. I was thinking about this whole deal you’re caught up in.”
“Oh that! I managed to forget about it for a while, being here with you . . . . God, I don’t know . . . . I can’t believe all the shit that’s happened in the last few days—and it’s probably not over.”
“I know. And I feel like I’m taking over your life. I don’t mean to do it, but it feels like there’s some kind of . . . of convergence or something happening that’s leading us both on an unknown path.”
“Karma? Our mutual karma? Do you believe in fate, Jim? Like some cosmic forces resulting from our past lives have merged and programmed the future for us?”
“I’m starting to think so. I’ve always tried and wanted to be open to unknown forces influencing my life. Like . . . I was ready to experience some kind of force up there at Dean’s death site. Ever since I discovered how closely his death and my birth coincided, and that my home was in the same county in Indiana that his was—a few miles down a gravel road—I’ve believed someday I’d find something mystical pulling me close to him. But, now I know I was wrong about that; I didn’t feel a thing. I’m still disappointed about that.”
“What about me?”
What about me? Jim slowly placed the drink he’d been lifting toward his lips back down on the table, staring into Penny’s eyes. He saw an unassuming, honest face, unashamedly and unapologetically offering herself to him. I don’t deserve her, she’s far too good for me. She looks like she’s half my age! Unable to say anything in response for an awkwardly long time, he finally said, “What about you? My God, yes! I’ll give up all my fantasies for you. You’re real, and you’re here: sitting with me, smiling at me, connecting with me . . . . What more could I ask for?”
“Maybe I can satisfy your need for mysticism and dreams?”
“You don’t know how good that sounds, Penny. It’s been such a long time since I had someone. . . But this isn’t the place to talk about it. Let’s go back to my place—and I can kiss that other cheek . . . .” Was she talking about marriage?
“More coffee?” Jim asked as he picked up the breakfast dishes.
“Half cup, please. You know, I’ve been thinking about your idea about going downtown to the jail to confront Mack.”
“And?”
“I don’t think you should go. This is our safe place and you have to stay in the background. Mack and his friends can’t know anything about you, and we need to keep it that way. To visit someone in jail, we’d have to make an appointment ahead of time, and that would give him time to have friends set up a stakeout around the area. They’d see you, find out who you are, where you live—and we’re in big trouble.”
“Well, the same goes for you. They’d trail you back here and it would be the same thing. You can’t go either.”
“I know. We can do it with a phone call. Appointments for phone calls can be scheduled if the prisoner is willing.”
“Let’s do that. But you’ll have to set it up, okay?”
“Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound.” Penny said with a grimace.
Eleven - The Plan
“Hi Mack, it’s Penny.”
“I know. What do you want?”
“What the fuck is going on, Mack? Gary tried to trap me and a friend out at Ramona yesterday. A guy pulled a gun on us when we were getting out of there before they could shut the gate to trap us.”
“It wasn’t Gary. Gary’s dead. So’s John.”
“Dead! What the hell are you talking—”
Mack cut her off, saying, “What did the guy you saw look like?”
“A big guy with heavy, long black hair and a black beard. He was wearing sun glasses and a baseball hat, so all I could see was a hairy face under a ball cap.
“Can you guess his age?”
“I don’t know, maybe in his forties?”
“That wasn’t Gary. Gary’s got grey hair and a grey mustache, but no beard. He was over sixty.”
“What happened to him, Mack?”
“I heard someone shot him. Probably one of the guys you saw out there. Probably before you got there.”
“So you already know! Well, who the hell are they? Who told you?”
“I can’t say, and I don’t know who they are.”
“Fuck, Mack! What have yo
u gotten me into? Are you going to get me killed, too?”
“No, Penny. They’re not after you. You left the keys there, right?”
“Yes, we threw them onto the parking lot when we saw the trap being sprung.”
“Then you should be okay. They were after the keys.”
“I don’t believe it. I think they were after me. Why else would they try to trap us?”
“I don’t know, maybe they thought you were a witness to the murder. But they don’t have any idea of who you are, right?”
“If they are the same ones who raided the cabin, they might. I left my Mustang parked up there while I was away that weekend. They might trace me that way.”
“Oh, shit. I thought you used your car that weekend.”
“No, I used the Harley. It’s one of the reasons I decided to try the cabin out, remember?”
“Oh . . . . Hell, I don’t know what to tell you. If they think there’s a reason to know more about you, then you might be right: they might continue trying to find you. I don’t want you to get hurt. Do you have a safe place to go?”
“Yeah, and I’m not telling you anything about it.”
“I don’t want to know about it.”
“Mack, why the hell would they be looking for me? You must have a clue about it.”
“You had the wrong key set, as you’ve probably figured out by now, right?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t too hard to notice I had about thirty more keys than I needed. But those were the keys I found where you told me to look for the cabin keys.”
“Did you open the safe, or open the door to my special tool room?”
“No. Hell, no! You told me to not do that, and I didn’t. Are you telling me there are dangerous things to know about in them, and they—whoever they are—think I saw stuff they don’t want me to know about?”
“Possibly. No—probably, Penny.”
“Oh fuck, Mack! What am I supposed to do?”
“Go away for a while. Maybe I can get this straightened out.”
“A while! Does that mean a week, a month, or a year?”
“More than a week . . . .”
“Jesus Christ, Mack! What a mess you’ve got me in. I may have to go to the police about this.”
“No, please don’t do that. I’m sorry. This should have never happened.”
“But it did!” Penny screamed over the phone and smashed the receiver back onto the phone cradle.
Jim, after listening in on the conversation via the speaker phone, reached for Penny’s hand, saying, “I’ve got an idea. But look, I’m late for a meeting at work. We can talk about it tonight.”
A little glumly, Penny said, “Okay. Anything for me to do around here?”
“There’s a nice Windows 7 computer in the office. The password is FERNBROOK, all in caps.”
“Okay, great, what’ll I do after I’m bored with an hour or two of that? What’s close by where I can go to get a little fresh air? What about the beach?”
“Here are the keys to the Porsche; I’ll take one of my bikes to work. I want you to leave your Mustang in the garage. You can go over to Rose Canyon and hike around if you’d like. It’s a small forest of cottonwoods and oaks, with a little stream running through it with hiking trails. It’s easy to get to from here, you can Google the directions. If you don’t want to do that, drive over to Torrey Pines State Beach and get in some beach time.”
“Okay, I’ll figure it out.”
“Right. But there’s one thing I don’t want you to do. Don’t even think about going to your condo for your clothes and things. I know you don’t have much with you, but we’ve got to do that very carefully. Okay?”
Moving close to Jim, so their noses were almost touching, she said, “Okay, Mr. Jim Schmidt. Whatever you say. I may have to dress without underwear until we do get there though.” She kissed the end of his nose.
With Jim away from the house, Penny went into the office and turned the computer on, signing in with Jim’s password. Pushing back a guilty feeling, she opened the Google search engine and entered: James Schmidt, San Diego, satellite communications. She realized she’d trusted Jim without question to that point, but knew it was past time to make sure her gut feelings about him had been correct. A blizzard of hits came back: patents, technical papers, and honors given by professional societies about things she had no way of comprehending. He also had recognition for work he’d done at local colleges, promoting high-tech as a lucrative and rewarding career. She could understand that. And nothing negative—although she knew she’d need to search court and police records for any bad stuff. I’m not doing that, I don’t want to go there! At some point people have to begin fully trusting others based on their instincts and learned knowledge. She was well into the instincts phase and at the start of the learning part; the college student work impressed her. I do trust him!
Still feeling a little guilty, but gratified, Penny finished another coffee while thinking about a safe way to go home for her belongings.
The video cameras!
After gaining experience with video recorder systems installed at the various properties under her responsibility, she had a small system installed around her condo for extra security following a few home invasions in nearby neighborhoods. All she needed to do to monitor activity around and in her condo was to download and activate the remote viewing software the vendor made available to customers via their website. Installing it on Jim’s computer and using her personal password would allow her to see what was happening on a real-time basis, or view the recordings for up to one week back in time.
Two hours later, she was viewing her kitchen, bedroom, entrance doors, and garage interior. She scanned the recordings back in time for the previous three days and found nothing concerning. So far, so good! The remaining issue would be the immediate area surrounding her condo: the common area shared by the entryways to all twenty-two units in the complex, as well as the driveway behind her condo that served the garages of the ten units on her side of the complex. Time to call Sheila.
Sheila was the on-site property manager for the entire complex. They were birds-of-a-feather: both experienced, tough property managers. They loved sharing a bottle of wine and horror stories common in the trade, commiserating with each other over tales of the latest flaming assholes they’d been dealing with. They related to each other on a level no one else could understand.
“Hi Sheila. It’s Penny!”
“Hey girl, haven’t seen you around in days. What’s going on?”
“I’m staying with a friend for a while. I need a little time away to get my sanity back.”
“What’s driving you insane—other than the usual bullshit—that a glass of wine together wouldn’t fix?”
“The usual bullshit. I quit working for George a few weeks ago, took another bullshit job on the rebound, quit that job, and met someone who’s a rock in a sea of more bullshit.”
“Honey, I’d like to meet that man. He is a man, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes, he’s a man! He’s a straight shooter and is being more than a wonderful help.”
“I like the ‘more’ part . . . .”
“I’m not sure I’m going to let you meet him, dear.”
“Coward! Okay, but, you know this is all making me worry about you. Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about Jim. He’s a highly-skilled technologist at a company over in the Silicon Beach area. He’s a professional and a decent person. I know because I Googled him and saw his patents and awards and some things he’s done for local colleges. No bad news, either.”
“Okay, honey. But I’m going to worry anyway—and maybe be a little jealous, too, if he’s all you say he is. So, what do you need?”
“I need you to keep an eye on my place. Can you have Tim point one of the cameras that covers the common area right at the front of my place? And, could you also have him point one of the driveway cameras at the back of my place and the garage door?”
“O
kay, now I’m back to worrying big-time. I’ll do it, but why? What’s going on?”
“That new job I started and quit, you know? Well, the guy that owns the business is in jail. Don’t ask why, I don’t know. But some creepy things were going on that made me realize I needed to get out. Believe me, Sheila, I’m clean of whatever is going on. I just stumbled into something that feels wrong, and there are a few sleazy people I want to stay away from. I don’t want to run into them waiting around my condo, so, I’m staying away for a while. But I’ll keep up the rent and dues and utilities.”
“Jesus, Penny! I’ll do whatever I can to help. You know I think a lot of you. This sounds weird.”
“It is weird. I haven’t gone to the police yet, but I may have to. Look, I’ll need to come over to get my clothes and things, but I want to make sure the coast is clear and that no one is hanging around my place—or the rest of the complex.”
“Okay, I get it. I’ll have Tim re-orient those cameras today and make sure we’re getting good quality recordings from them. When do you want to come?”
“I’ll give it two or three days and call to see if you’ve got anything first. And by the way, I have some of my own cameras that cover the interior of my place and garage I’ll be checking out, too. You can expect to hear from me around the end of the week.”
“Great idea. Okay, sweetie. I’m on it!”
The same day, later that afternoon. A rural, run-down adobe block house midway between Ramona and Santee, hidden far off Wildcat Canyon Road on a rutted dirt lane. Two men holding cell phones sit facing computer monitors in a dingy, small room with large-screen TVs mounted on every wall surrounding the two.
Starvation Mountain Page 6
