by James Raven
Eventually he found his voice and said, ‘This is bullshit. You’re drunk. And you’re talking crap.’
Travis bared his teeth. ‘Unfortunately for you I’m not. You see, I’m the one who took your girlfriend’s diary. I sent you the extract so that when we had this conversation you’d take me seriously.’
Crane felt a flood of panic wash over him. The bastard had not exaggerated when he said he could derail the campaign. He had taken possession of a grenade and all he had to do was pull the pin if he wanted to cause untold damage.
‘As soon as I started following you I realized what was going on,’ Travis said. ‘You were careful, but not careful enough. I’ve got photos of the pair of you entering and leaving her apartment together. I’ve got one of you kissing her in her car. But I wanted more so I broke into her place this morning to plant some bugs. I actually didn’t expect her to be around until this afternoon. Anyway, whilst in there I came across her diary. I couldn’t believe my luck. It’s all there, every sordid detail about what you’ve been up to.’
Crane gulped in a few deep breaths and swallowed a lump the size of a walnut.
‘Have you told Pauline?’ he asked in a hoarse voice.
Travis shook his head. ‘I haven’t told anybody. And I don’t intend to so long as you and I can come to an arrangement. If we can’t then I’ll release everything to the media.’
‘You’ll break your sister’s heart,’ Crane said.
‘Which is exactly what you’re planning to do anyway. It’s only a matter of time before you dump her. That’s what you’ve been telling your bitch.’
Crane felt more helpless than he ever thought possible. He could see no way out of the situation he was in, other than to allow himself to be blackmailed by Travis.
‘So what is it you want in return for keeping quiet?’ he said.
Travis took another drag on his cigar. ‘Money, of course. I want you to transfer a hundred thousand dollars into my account by noon tomorrow. I need the money to pay some very important people. And then we’re quits. Oh, and I’ll give you back the diary.’
Crane felt the fury build up inside him almost to the point of eruption.
‘You son-of-a-bitch,’ he seethed.
Travis chuckled. ‘You can afford it, congressman. In fact, you should count yourself lucky that I’m not asking for more.’
Crane narrowed his gaze, said, ‘So what if I tell you to stick it? That I’d rather take my chances than pay you a single cent? Sure, I’ll suffer badly in the polls, but I could well ride out the storm. I wouldn’t be the first politician who has gone on to achieve his ambition after being caught out having an affair.’
Travis sat back and ballooned his cheeks, letting the air out slowly between his lips.
‘You’re full of bluster, Gideon,’ he said. ‘You’ll be finished and you know it. You’ll be exposed as a serial philanderer. That won’t play well with your middle-class supporters. So just shut up and pay up and maybe you’ll get to be president.’
Crane felt his mind shut down. For several minutes he couldn’t move or speak.
He knew he didn’t have a choice. Travis had him over a barrel. He was well and truly fucked.
17
MY THOUGHTS WERE gnashing in my head as the woman drove me around the city in the Explorer. I had to force myself to remain calm as I tried to assess the situation. But it was hard to concentrate and harder still to decide what to do next.
The woman said nothing, but the fear she exuded was almost palpable. She was probably thinking that I was going to rape her and then kill her and maybe do something awful to her child.
I turned to look at her and in the glow from the dashboard I could see the tension along her jawline and in her neck. She was quite pretty, with eyes that were large and round and a nose that was sharp and delicate. She had tiny gold studs in her earlobes. Her face was made more interesting by a small, jagged scar just below her hairline. It was about an inch long and was a shade darker than her skin.
‘Where do you live?’ I asked when I glanced at the clock and realized that five minutes had passed since we left the grocery store parking lot.
‘Why do you want to know?’ she said guardedly.
‘Because I’m going to have to stay there, at least for a while.’
She gave a sharp intake of breath.
‘You can’t. No. Please.’
‘Don’t freak out,’ I said. ‘I need someplace to stay while I get my thoughts together. It’s either your place or on the street, and I’m not bedding down on the street.’
‘My husband’s home,’ she said quickly. ‘So it’s impossible.’
‘You’re not married,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘No wedding ring. Dead giveaway.’
Her lips started to tremble. ‘I live with someone. My boyfriend.’
I shook my head. ‘If that were the case then you’d have said boyfriend or partner in the first place and not husband. So you screwed up.’
Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She was close to losing it and I didn’t want that. But at the same time I didn’t want to start wandering the streets with nowhere to go.
‘Look, I haven’t got the time or the inclination to argue,’ I said. ‘So please don’t make things difficult for me. Just do as I say.’
‘Why don’t you let us get out?’ she said. ‘You can take the car. Leave the city and go wherever you please.’
‘Too risky,’ I said. ‘The moment I drive off you’ll call 911 and I’ll have every cop in the state on my tail.’
‘I won’t. I promise.’
She was doing well to control her terror. I had to give her that.
‘Just tell me where the fuck you live,’ I snapped and it made her jump.
‘Out towards Eisenhower Park,’ she said.
‘How long will it take to get there?’
‘About twenty minutes.’
I nodded. ‘In that case put your foot down and get us there in fifteen.’
She started to cry and her shoulders heaved with every sob. I felt my stomach fall. I didn’t want a hysterical woman on my hands.
‘Stop crying,’ I said. ‘Just concentrate on the road.’
I watched her as the sobs gradually subsided. She tightened her grip on the wheel and I noticed her eyes kept flicking towards the rear-view mirror to check on her kid.
The child carried on sleeping, oblivious to her mother’s ordeal. I prayed that she wouldn’t wake up and raise the stress level still further.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
She wiped tears from her eyes. ‘Kate. Kate Pena.’
‘And your daughter?’
‘Anna.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Eight months.’
‘So where’s the father?’
‘I told you. He’s at home.’
I shrugged. ‘I think you’re lying, but if you’re not then it’s no problem. I’ll just have to deal with him.’
Kate was scared for sure, but I wondered how much more scared she’d be if she knew the truth about me; that I had spent the last ten years of my life on death row having been convicted of killing a defenceless woman.
In all that time the only woman I’d seen had been my sister and the only sex I’d had had been with myself. I was pretty sure that her lightly scented perfume would have encouraged most death row inmates to pounce on her given the opportunity that I now had.
So what did that say about me? Well for one thing I hadn’t turned into a sex-starved beast. And for another I still lived by a moral code. All the pain, loneliness and deprivation of the past decade had not robbed me of every last ounce of decency. All the horrible things I’d seen had not blunted my sensitivity, at least not to any significant degree.
So in a sense Kate Pena was lucky. If anyone other than me had jacked her car then she probably wouldn’t be as safe as she was right now.
18
THE DRIVE TO Kate�
�s place was uneventful. She drove quickly, but carefully, and seemed determined to meet the deadline I’d set.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of the traffic and the baby’s occasional light snoring. But that suited me. I needed to think about what had happened and where to go from here. But it was like trying to make sense of life itself. The answers were beyond me.
I had no idea why the FBI had faked my execution only to set me up to be murdered. It seemed pointless. And it was a brutal fact that I might never know, not unless I turned myself in or was captured.
It wasn’t as if the story, complete with a full explanation, would be carried on the news. The FBI – and whoever else was involved – were going to do everything they could to keep a lid on it. I was sure of that. And I figured they would put even more effort into trying to find me.
Despite that I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn’t dead so I still had a good reason to be thankful. I was alive and free – for now at least. And there was a slim chance I might stay free for years to come. God willing.
‘W-we’re here,’ Kate said suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. ‘This is where I live.’
I glanced at the dashboard clock. She’d done it in just under fifteen minutes. Impressive.
‘Pull onto the driveway,’ I said.
It was a quiet residential street of small detached houses, most of them made of timber. The street was dimly lit, with no movement anywhere. The brakes squeaked as the Explorer slowed to a crawl and turned onto a short gravel drive.
It was a rundown single-storey house with a shingle roof and peeling brown paintwork. The front yard had been colonized by unsightly weeds and the low fences on either side had slats missing. To my relief there were no lights on inside or outside the house. And no sign of life.
Kate switched off the engine and gave me a fearful look.
‘Please just go,’ she said. ‘I give you my word that I won’t call the police.’
Her voice trembled as she struggled to speak and breathe at the same time.
‘Is the house empty?’ I asked.
Her chest heaved and she gave a reluctant nod.
‘Are you expecting any visitors tonight?’ I said. ‘And bear in mind that it won’t stop me coming in.’
She hesitated a second before shaking her head.
‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘Then I want you to get out of the car.’
I reached over and removed the key from the ignition, then threw open the door and got out. I dashed around to her side and as she stepped from the car I took out the gun and pressed it against her lower back.
‘First we get your groceries from the rear,’ I said. ‘Then we come back for the baby.’
I looked around. The street was still quiet and gloomy. I didn’t see any nosy neighbours. Kate peered through the window at her daughter who was still fast asleep in her chair. Then she walked slowly to the back of the Explorer. I could feel her body shaking against the gun.
‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ I said. ‘I really don’t intend to harm either of you. I just need a place to stay for a while.’
She turned to look at me and I could sense the tension in her.
‘Why should I trust you?’ she said, her voice pitiful.
‘Because you have no other option,’ I told her. ‘Now get the door open and let’s get inside.’
She complied without another word. She took out two bags and carried them to the front door. I gave her back her keys and she opened up the house, stepped inside, and deposited the bags on the hall floor.
‘Leave the light off for now,’ I said. ‘Let’s get the baby.’
To my amazement the kid didn’t wake up as her mother extracted her from her seat and carried her into the house. I guessed she’d had a tough day and it was way past her bedtime.
Once inside I shut the door behind us. The house did not have a homely feel to it. It smelled damp and stale, like something was rotting beneath the floorboards. I followed Kate along a short hallway into a small bedroom containing a crib and a night light. Kate gently lowered the baby into the crib and covered her with a blanket.
‘Sleep tight, sweetheart,’ she whispered. ‘Everything will be OK.’
We stepped out of the bedroom and she left the door ajar. I stood and watched, gun in hand, as she retrieved her groceries and carried them into the kitchen. After placing the bags on the floor she flicked on the light.
I got a good look at her then. Her bright blue eyes puffy from crying were set against the deathly pallor of her skin. She was about five six and in good shape. She stood with her back to the countertop, her tight T-shirt and jeans accentuating her fine curves.
I let my eyes linger on her body for a second too long and she obviously sensed this because she inhaled deeply and said, ‘I’ll do whatever you want so long as you don’t touch my baby.’
There was a hint of steel in her voice that hadn’t been there before. The guilt came over me like a wave. This woman was terrified beyond reason. And who could blame her? I was a complete stranger and I was standing in her kitchen threatening her with a gun. There was nothing to stop me doing bad things to her and her child.
I stared at her for what seemed a long time, the only sound the hum of the refrigeration unit.
Then I said, ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not interested in doing anything to you or your child. I’m not some sicko if that’s what you think. So just stay calm and be patient. You’re perfectly safe.’
Her eyes narrowed a little.
‘Who are you?’
I ignored the question and waved the gun at the door.
‘I need to check the rest of the house. Lead the way.’
The rooms were unimpressive and the furniture looked as though it had been collected from flea markets. There was a small living room with a threadbare carpet, a TV, sofa and coffee table. The main bedroom was clean but shabby and consisted of a double bed, a dresser, a standalone closet. I checked inside the closet. Only female clothes, and not many of them.
In the tiny bathroom-cum-toilet the light was a single bulb with a pull-string. When I turned it on I caught sight of myself in the medicine cabinet mirror. I looked a mess. My dyed hair was wet and matted and there were stains on the lapels of my jacket.
I made sure the curtains were closed in every room before we went back to the kitchen, which contained a table and two chairs and a bunch of cheap-looking white goods. The lino on the floor was faded and without colour.
‘Is this your own house?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘I rent.’
‘You on welfare?’
She nodded.
I grabbed her handbag from the back of a chair where she’d hung it. Emptied the contents onto the table. A cellphone, purse, lipstick, some tissues and a pen. I picked up the cell, switched it off and said, ‘I’ll keep hold of this for now.’
She didn’t react, other than to breathe out slowly and touch a thin film of sweat on her forehead.
I shoved the gun into my jacket pocket and sat down at the table. My eyes ached with tiredness and my limbs felt stiff and brittle.
‘Why don’t you make some coffee?’ I said. ‘This is gonna be a long night.’
She didn’t move, just continued to stare at me from where she stood by the sink. Her eyes were scared. I could practically see the wheels spinning in her head as she tried to assess the level of threat that faced her.
‘Are you really not going to hurt us?’ she asked after a beat.
‘I’ve no reason to,’ I said. ‘I’m not some insane pervert.’
She swallowed hard. ‘So are you running from the police?’
I felt the skin on my face stiffen. ‘Not exactly.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I’d rather not talk about it.’
I sat back in a daze, mentally rewinding everything that had happened. My blood began to race and every nerve in my body was bristling with electr
icity and urgency. I wanted to close my eyes and retreat within myself, but I knew that wasn’t possible.
‘Why have you got a gun?’ Kate asked.
‘It doesn’t belong to me,’ I said. ‘I took it from a guy who tried to shoot me.’
Her eyes stretched wide. ‘So why did he try to shoot you?’
‘I don’t know.’
I could see what she was doing. By engaging me in conversation she was thinking I’d be less inclined to turn on her. But I was OK with that if it made her feel more secure.
‘So how about that coffee?’ I said.
This time she responded. As she set about making it I kept a close eye on her in case she decided to grab a knife from a drawer or something.
I leaned on the table and pressed my fingers into my temples. My mind was in chaos, a mixture of anger, fear and bafflement. I wondered where Aaron Vance and his agents were and what they were doing. Were they still looking for me in downtown San Antonio? Had the cops been called to the scene of the shooting? Who else knew that Lee Jordan was still alive? Had my disappearance caused a major panic?
Questions, questions, questions.
‘Do you take sugar?’
Kate’s voice seized my attention and I smiled.
‘No thanks. Just milk.’
I watched her pour hot water into two mugs. I couldn’t help but appreciate the curve of her waist where it met her shapely butt. She was very attractive, I realized. But then after ten years in prison maybe every woman was going to seem attractive to me. She turned, holding the steaming mugs, and placed one on the table in front of me. Then she pulled out the other chair and sat down opposite me.
A bit of colour had crept into her cheeks and it seemed that her shoulders had relaxed a little. Maybe I’d finally convinced her that I wasn’t some gun-toting psycho. Or maybe she was just trying to lull me into a false sense of security until she got an opportunity to raise the alarm or escape with her baby.
‘Have you lived here long?’ I asked, for want of something to say.
‘Three months,’ she said. ‘It’s a dump, I know, but beggars can’t be choosy.’
