“I need him conscious, Paul, and if they hurt him even a little, he’s not going be very cooperative.” Unblinking, he stared into Rodriguez’s stony face. “Without him, I can’t save his wife.”
After several tense seconds, Rodriguez slowly released a single long breath as his face settled into resignation.
“I'm not their supervisor, Ollie. I’ll ask, but I can’t order.”
Oliver nodded grimly.
“Tell them someone’s life depends on McKenny being able to stand under his own power.” Rodriguez's deep set eyes narrowed, then stayed that way as he took the microphone.
Running through the park had left Collin winded, his breath coming in short, ragged puffs of steam which hung briefly before dissipating in the near-darkness. Standing next to the trunk of a large tree, the last bit of panic slipped free of his mind and he saw what a dumb-ass move it'd been to run from Peidmont. With the cop, he’d at least had a kind of protection, someone with connections that might help him in this suddenly unfriendly world. A dumb-shit like Peidmont would never suit him as a friend, but he had to admit that having a cop on his side just then could only help. And now, he’d gone and thrown that away.
Courtney, his twisted girlfriend came to mind and though Collin doubted her willingness to help, but he needed money right now and this she never lacked. He tried to recall this neighborhood in his mind but could only remember a liquor store about eight blocks away, one which he hoped had a phone nearby. His breath coming even now, Collin walked to the park’s edge and crossed to a street lined with apartment buildings. He decided to go up another block in case a cop simply drove by and stopped him for the hell of it. He’d probably have to hurt the cop just to get away and that wouldn’t help his situation.
With the small store in sight, Collin heard the sound of a car turning the corner behind him and as a precaution, climbed some stairs leading into a group of apartments. The vehicle passed, revealing itself to be an ordinary Nissan Sentra and it was at this moment the door in front of him swung open. Collin found himself face to face with somebody’s sleepy-eyed grandmother, who simply shut the door before a word passed between them. He resisted the sudden urge to bang on the closed door and, shaking his head, walked down the street toward his destination, laughing at what the old biddy would tell her friends.
Five minutes later he dialed Courtney’s number and waited as the rings mounted, knowing at least a hundred would have to sound before she might even consider pulling herself out of bed.
True to form, a slurred, weary voice mumbled into his ear several minutes later, “What the hell do you want?”
“Courtney...” Collin managed to get out just as the patrol car appeared beside his phone booth. “Oh shit!”
The drive over to 410 Sunset left Willy Johnson feeling very much alone, especially after kissing his sleeping wife and kids good-bye. He’d scribbled a note for Julie, explaining briefly his undercover assignment and that he’d call when able, and this disconnection was perhaps what set him to feeling as he did. Only once before had Willy worked undercover, but Julie knew he could be gone for days on such of case and would worry till he was home. He’d also made the call into the station, saying his wife had a fever and one of his kids a long standing dentist appointment.
The city of Seaside seemed to wake as he drove through its streets. House lights flared in the morning darkness as its citizens awoke to another day of work. Willy turned onto Del Monte Avenue from Broadway, then cruised along its length through Monterey. Computerized sensors in the road detected the sparse morning traffic and provided him a string of green lights clear to Pacific Grove. As he eased into Carol Montoya’s driveway, Willy saw that the entire trip had taken less than eight minutes and somehow, this unnerved him a bit. Leaving a house so full of life, only to arrive not even ten minutes later at the door of the recently dead, and someone murdered at that, was enough to make him wish he'd run into a few more red lights.
The signal for Oliver and Rodriguez to move came a few minutes after a promise had been extracted from the other officers: McKenny wouldn’t be harmed, unless an officer was threatened. They’d listened for several minutes as one of the officers reported him headed for an all night liquor store and once there, had him placing a call at its pay phone. Only after he had seemed occupied did they decide to move in.
A testament to timing, all three patrol cars converged on McKenny from different directions, literally surrounding the phone booth, leaving little time or room for their subject to react. Rodriguez and the other two officers were out of their vehicles with weapons drawn before McKenny could replace the phone into its cradle. Though clearly visible in the gray early morning light, Oliver stayed in Rodriguez’s cruiser as his Monterey brothers approached the 6 foot, 9 inch suspect.
“All right, you sick asshole,” Oliver heard a strangely familiar voice call out. “Place your hands above your head and turn around.”
Oliver’s stomach began a corkscrew motion as he recognized officer Schwartz’s voice from Jesse Beeler's apartment complex: a jerk of unique proportions in Oliver’s opinion and whose talents lay mainly in the arena of bad timing.
“Oh shit...” Oliver said under his breath, then hastily searched the car for some kind of non-lethal weapon, aware of what was about to happen as Schwartz marched toward McKenny. He heard scuffling and some shouting but by the time he'd found something and looked up, McKenny had Schwartz in what appeared to be a painful wrestling hold, his massive forearm encircling his neck. This had the unfortunate effect of turning the officer into a dangling puppet, as well as a human shield.
“Okay, boys,” McKenny grinned as if he’d won a playground game of kickball. “Drop your guns and kick ‘em my way.” Oliver pushed open the car door quietly, then slowly climbed out. His movement was not lost on McKenny who now turned toward Oliver, swinging the hapless Schwartz like so much decoration.
“Peidmont, you asshole! Glad you decided to join us...now get over here where I can see you.” Oliver obeyed, stopping just a few feet from McKenny. None of the officers had complied with McKenny’s demands, but had secured better firing positions and yet each knew that unless Schwartz’s life was in imminent danger, none were allowed to fire.
Apparently, so did McKenny.
“Let’s not waste time, boys, so either drop your guns or use 'em.” McKenny turned toward Rodriguez. “Knowing when you’ve lost is an important thing, right, Wetback?”
If he’d expected anger from Rodriguez, McKenny was sorely disappointed as Rodriguez burst out in honest laughter. .
“Don’t even talk to me," Rodriguez grinned menacingly. "You pathetic 'roided bag of shit!”
Rage flared in McKenny’s eyes and his response was quick and brutal, twisting Schwartz’s neck until the cop went limp, then casually tossed him away as so much refuse. All hell broke loose as the unconscious officer fell toward the cement and only later did they wonder at their choreography. Rodriguez leaped toward the falling officer as Oliver pulled forth the Taser tucked between his pants and the crook of his back, aiming squarely at the man’s huge chest.
For an instant their eyes met, then McKenny’s grin died as Oliver released the three thin darts, their wires trailing behind. The darts pierced the giant’s left pectoral muscle, stunning him briefly. When no shock followed, McKenny’s grin sprang back to life and reached up to pull out the metal darts. Oliver released the trigger, sending 50,000 volts into McKenny, who shook from head to toe for several seconds before toppling against a third officer, who promptly wilted under his massive frame.
It wasn’t that Willy had never been in the house of the recently deceased. Far from it, in fact. His time on the force had provided several situations with just such an occurrence. It was being alone in such a house which set him on edge, as if its complete emptiness spoke loudly of recent violence and that, yes, he was trespassing to a degree. He was, however, a cop and part of being one meant he sometimes had to trespass, if there was need. Restless spirits or morning
edginess aside, this definitely qualified.
Willy walked from room to room, more relaxed after a few minutes now that the cop side of himself had taken over. His detective persona slipped into place and he fell into investigative mode, dispassionately appraising the job the detectives had done on the initial search. Though not a detective, Willy planned to apply for the next open position. Peidmont, more than the other detectives seemed to appreciate his skills in this area and this morning’s little excursion wasn’t the first time he’d asked Willy for help and this gave him hope of passing the state exam.
After taking a preliminary walk through the house, Willy started his search in what appeared to be the master bedroom, taking his time as he sifted through the victim’s clothes, drawers and books. ‘The Victim’ is what he now called Carol Montoya and this seemed to settle his feelings even more as he searched through her most private effects. The master bedroom took over an hour before he was sure no hidden papers were there. Had he known what they looked like, Willy suspected it might have taken less time, but he wasn’t sure, since people can hide things quite well if they give proper thought to it. He closed the door behind him, then stepped to the next room which appeared to be more storage area then bedroom. Greatly longing for a cup of coffee this early in the morning, Willy sighed at the room piled high with boxes and set to work.
Oliver had to admire Rodriguez. For all of the man’s ‘Gee whiz, I’m only a subordinate’ routine, he’d managed to keep a lid on what had occurred in an amazing fashion. After explaining to the remaining officer that McKenny’s wife was being held hostage, the man merely nodded at Rodriguez and the two of them set to work explaining to the arriving paramedics how Schwartz had injured his neck.
After an initial examination, the medics agreed Schwartz could be moved, though it appeared he had a broken neck, He may not have suffered spinal cord injury, however and no one wanted to take any chances. A full half hour was required to transfer him, inch by inch, onto the waiting stretcher. Once secured, he was rushed to Community Hospital located between Carmel and Monterey along Skyline forest.
Before the ambulance had arrived, McKenny’s unconscious body had been half-dragged, half-carried by three cops toward Rodriguez’s patrol car. Once his hands were cuffed behind him, all 300lbs had been stuffed into the back seat area with little concern for comfort. It was like this that Oliver and Rodriguez found McKenny as they'd climbed into Rodriguez's cruiser. They watched the ambulance transporting Schwartz leave, its sirens wailing, then took the short ride back over toward El Estero Park and Oliver's cruiser.
Both smiled as the opened car door revealed McKenny in an impressive pretzel imitation, his face and shoulder jammed into the back of the driver’s seat while his legs were folded around beneath him.
“Well, Collin,” Oliver chuckled. “I knew you were into some pretty kinky stuff but you never mentioned sniffing leather was another one of your talents.” McKenny attempted a reply. However, the bulk of his face remained mashed into the seat and only a muffled string of angry noises could be heard. Laughing, Rodriguez reached into the car to untangle the man’s legs. Once free, however, McKenny began kicking wildly, causing him to fall completely into the foot area between the seats; a very tight squeeze at best.
“Asswipe!” Rodriguez shouted, jumping back from McKenny’s still kicking legs. “If you make this difficult, it’s not going to be pleasant for you. Just relax and we’ll get you out of there.” Rodriguez reached forward to dislodge the giant but barely missed being kicked once again. He turned to Oliver and shrugged. “What should we do with our big baby here, Ollie?”
“I’d say he needs another nap, Paul...wouldn’t you?” Oliver opened the front passenger door, then pulled out the Taser. McKenny, though momentarily passive suddenly understood Oliver’s intentions and began kicking for all he was worth. Taking aim at the massive thigh, Oliver fired the metal darts into McKenny's flesh as pinpricks of blood ringed the entry points, then released its trigger a moment later. Pinned between the car’s front and back seats, there was little evidence of the electrical charge, short of both McKenny's eyes rolling upward until only the whites showed.
Oliver turned to Rodriguez, then leaned against the patrol car as the first hint of morning traffic whizzed by on Del Monte Ave.
“The way I figure it, Paul. McKenny played professional football for three years and doing that hurt him more than anything we could do trying to get him out.”
Rodriguez smiled and yet there was little joy in it. and gave McKenny’s lone exposed leg a solid kick.
“I suppose you’re right, Ollie, but after what he did to Schwartz, I really don’t care what kind of bruises he ends up with.” With that, they each grabbed one of McKenny's limp, dangling legs and began to pull McKenny out one inch at a time for the transfer to Oliver's cruiser.
He awoke feeling as if he’d been through a meat grinder, twice. His head, pounding in rhythm with his heart, throbbed painfully with each beat. His legs seemed on fire and his right shoulder felt like it might be dislocated, a pain that seemed familiar. This dull aching pain, along with the hundred other little aches, seemed lost in the pain within him. As if a meat grinder had found its way inside him and once there, had done its terrible work. He found he could not move either his arms or legs much and just as suddenly, both eyes flicked open to reveal what looked like the inside of a police car.
“Good morning,” a voice spoke next to him, though it sounded strange. “How’re you feeling?”
He turned to see who had spoken and found a vaguely familiar looking man seated in the driver's seat.
“My guess is that you’re not feeling too well right now. We had real trouble getting you out of the back seat. In fact, I think we probably should've uncuffed you but we didn’t want you escaping again. I hope your shoulder is okay, Paul said he got it back in place, but you moaned a bit during the process.”
He listened to all this as if from a distance, saw the time on the car’s dash blink 9:22am, then saw they were in traffic and wondered what city this was.
“Who are you?” He asked, finally speaking what had been running through his mind. The man peered at him for a full minute, moving slowly as the cars about them inched forward.
“The medical guide said you might have some short term memory loss as a result of two shocks within twenty-four hours. I just assumed that a guy your size...do you know your name?"
He thought for a minute, “My name’s...I, um....”
The man waited, clearly eager for him to remember his name which was..."
“I...I, um, I..don’t know,” he finally admitted, defeated. A few seconds of traffic passed by their car before he finally turned back to the driver and saw the shadow spread over the man’s face. “I’m sorry...I really can’t remember.” He felt silly and stared at his hands cuffed to the door, then turned back to the driver. “Did I do something wrong, mister? Is that why I’m handcuffed like this?”
The driver, apparently deep in thought gave no reply. "Hey, Mister,” he said, louder this time. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” the man responded dully, staring at the sparkling ocean off in the distance. “But I am.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jenny lay quietly in the expansive bed, unsure of how long she’d been awake or if she was alone. The soft-hued lights above were gentle on her eyes and yet provided enough illumination to see about the bedroom suite. She moved a hand to her forehead, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as its mate pulled the slight, expensive covers from her partially clothed body. This fact was not something she wanted to think about just then and sitting up, saw with relief she was alone in the suite. She looked about, spied her jeans and panties on a multi-colored wing-back chair nearby and retrieved them, dressing quickly before Jenel returned for seconds.
The moment Oliver and Collin left, Jenel had wasted no time in trying to kiss her, pulling her close as she twisted and turned against him. Frustrated, he had released her and cal
mly walked to his desk while Jenny ran to the far side of the room. Lighting a cigar, Jenel had chuckled at her panic when she discovered the door locked. Several minutes passed as he puffed and stared while she had stood warily against the wall. Finally, Jenel had given her two choices: consent to his advances or he’d kill Oliver the moment he returned, holding the papers or not. To make his point, he had placed an ugly looking revolver atop his desk.
A few minutes later he'd pulled a bottle of wine and two glasses from a side cabinet. Filling both glasses, Jenel silently placed one on the far side of his desk and it was then that Jenny had accepted her situation. She could give up her body for a few hours at most or she could sacrifice her life for virtue’s sake. As a survivor by nature, she had not found this a hard choice. She'd steeled herself and walked to the desk, accepted the glass now held out to her before sitting opposite her blackmailer.
They had talked for a while about nothing of importance, Jenny realized it was Jenel’s way of loosening her up and yet it was only the wine’s tranquilizing effect that helped her stay calm. By the time he had led her to this suite not far from his office, things had grown hazy in her mind. It was clear, however, from the elaborate bedroom suite that at least some of the women at JenelCo did more than type for a living. Ever so briefly the idea of Carol in this same bed drifted by her, then thankfully slipped away.
Jenel had watched her undress then, patiently observing each item’s removal until she'd slid naked beneath the bed’s turned back covers. Jenel disrobed, taking time to lay each item out before joining her. Jenny suspected that his slow methodical movements had been for her; to somehow be arousing. By then, Jenny had been thoroughly numbed, as if she was watching the encounter more than experiencing it.
Jenel’s attentions had lasted longer than Jenny had feared but thankfully, he'd pushed nothing kinky and simply went for straight sex. Still, to endure it, Jenny had shut herself down emotionally with the help of three glasses of wine, helping to suppress the anger and rage that accompanied all such assaults. Now as she sat alone, these feelings came roaring back and for several minutes the only thing she could do was shake.
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