by M. L. Harris
She’s getting more agitated.
“I’m serious. I really don’t know what you mean.”
My eyes are cold and distant.
“Who’s paying you, damn it!”
She stares down the barrel of the gun.
“You don’t understand… if I talk he’ll kill me.”
I pull the hammer back on the gun.
“If you don’t spill your guts now he won’t get that chance.”
Hysterical, she turns and bolts toward the window, throwing herself against it.
The glass shatters to pieces as she plummets like a stone and lands in the hotel swimming pool sixty feet below.
I step over to the opening and look down to see her lifeless body floating in the water, face down.
I turn and cross the room, stopping at the door.
Cautiously I put one hand on the door lever and with the other I hold my gun.
Slowly I open the door.
A burst suddenly comes thrusting against it.
Quickly I raise my gun and hold the barrel against the peephole. I fire three shots.
The second bullet burrows into a guy’s neck and he collapses against the wall.
Seconds later I see a hand and a gun coming through the partially opened door. I swing my leg up and kick the gun away before it tumbles into the bathroom.
I’m struggling to hold my position. Then I feel pain in my wrist as my gun is wrenched from my hand and it falls behind the door.
In a swift action I kick the bastard in the groin, hard. He shuffles backward and still holding on to my wrist he pulls me out into the hallway as the door slams shut.
He is one scary-looking dude. I see rage and murder in his eyes. This is not Ivan, but I’m not sure whether I should be disappointed or relieved.
Neither of us has a weapon.
Shit.
I don’t even hesitate.
Because I’m a female and obviously the weaker opponent here, I notice the door to the stairwell and decide to make a run for it.
He gets on his feet as I sprint for the door to the stairs. The brute is closing in on me and suddenly a maid opens the door to the stairwell.
As the madman rounds the corner and enters the stair landing I am hiding behind the door. I stick out my leg and trip him. He plunges forward under his own weight as the maid turns and bolts back down the stairs.
His head crashes into the metal railing at the top of the landing and he slumps over.
I quickly grab his legs and heave him over.
As he slams into the concrete stairs below I hear a crack.
Since he isn’t moving I figure his neck was broken in the fall.
Just as I step back into the hallway the elevator doors open.
The hotel manager emerges and his eyes are immediately drawn to the dead body in the hallway.
Then he turns and looks at me.
I try to think of what to say.
“I heard a commotion from my room below.”
He seems unsure as to which room Amber fell from.
“Right here,” I say helpfully and point to the door to her room.
He unlocks the door to her room, entering and hurrying over to the shattered window.
As he looks down at the swimming pool and the body I quickly grab my gun from behind the door.
“Dreadful, absolutely dreadful,” I say as I disappear from the room.
I hurry down the hallway and into the stairwell. I step over the dead body and enter the fifth floor before ducking into our room.
Jack turns to me.
“Maggie! What the hell’s going on? A guest in the elevator told me somebody was killed in the pool.”
He is familiar with the wild look in my eyes. He’s seen it before. His next question hardly needs to be asked, but he does so anyway.
“What have you been up to?”
He must think I look like the cat that swallowed a canary.
“I was following a lead.”
“So… it was you making all that trouble.”
I raise my palms in the air.
“I was approached in the lobby. She claimed to have information about Ivan.”
He notices that my blouse is torn.
Clearly, I’ve got some explaining to do.
“We have to get out of here,” I tell him.
He shakes his head.
“Where is this woman?”
I pause for a moment, thinking.
“She must’ve gotten in over her head.”
Chapter
31
The interior of the apartment was completely dark except for the faint glow of a cigarette near the bed which brightened as the girl inhaled the smoke. Just beyond a pair of open doors a guy stood on a balcony, his silhouette tall and lean.
Twenty-something, the brunette had known the psychopath for all of four hours.
Taking the brisk night air Ivan stared out at the lights of the city. Along the street below the din of music and raucous voices blended into a blur of activity. The Tenderloin was hopping (or hopped up) depending on a person’s state of mind.
A phone began ringing in the bedroom and Ivan turned away from the city lights and stepped inside. He gestured to the girl. Get your ass in the bathroom and close the door.
Then he pressed Talk.
“Yeah.”
The caller got right to the point.
“The business with Maggie Croft… very sloppy.”
“This kinda work ain’t always clean.”
“I’m paying professional rates.”
“Whatta you sayin’?”
“She was allowed to get away.”
“That Amber bitch you sent messed up.”
“Excuses? I have no tolerance for failure.”
“Think whatever ya want.”
“Listen, there are three bodies in the morgue and Maggie Croft is not one of them. She’s still on the run.”
“Not for long… won’t last a day with the heat I got on her ass.”
“I have it on good information that she and her boyfriend have a posse hunting you down.”
“Hell, I just shakin’ in my boots. Hope she finds me herself. I’ll kill her slow an’ painful like. Get my drift?”
“Just stay there and don’t go out.”
“That ain’t gonna be easy.”
“There’s a girl there.”
Surprised, Ivan said, “What of it?”
“Let her tend to your needs. You’re to keep out of sight until Maggie Croft and Jack Fisher have been eliminated. Understood?”
“Yeah, but it’s gonna cost ya. Whackin’ that pesky Croft bitch and her boyfriend wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I know. How much for both of them?”
“A hundred grand.”
“Agreed, but on the condition that you stay put.”
A long pause.
Finally Ivan said, “Not till I seen the cash.”
“Done.”
And the line went dead.
Chapter
32
A mile away from where Ivan is hiding out, Jack and I are busy getting clear of the chaos at our hotel. We make a hasty departure and on short notice motivate a rental agent with some cash and cajoling before finally securing a crash pad.
The apartment is cramped and a little shabby but it came furnished and it beats sleeping under a bridge.
“What do you think?” I ask Jack as we enter.
“It’s okay.”
He is still pissed on account of the fact that I nearly got myself killed. I think he just needs a place for resting his head because he knows it will all begin again in a few hours.
“You look rough,” I tell him. “Why don’t you hit the sack?”
He kisses me on the cheek and disappears into the bedroom.
On the contrary, I am energized. Wasting no time I unpack the bags and get settled in. An hour later stacks of notes and papers are strewn across the kitchen table. Our makeshift command center is i
n place and I pause to reflect.
My pulse quickens as the sense of danger terrifies me.
But in equal measure I am strangely exhilarated.
They tried to kill me. We must be getting close. Ivan is in the Hood. I can feel it in my bones.
It is dark and still, and a lone ceiling light glares down at me. I’m drifting in and out of a daze as I listen to my heart, beating…
Suddenly a phone rings and I nearly jump out of my chair.
It’s four-thirty in the morning. Who on earth would be calling at this hour?
Jolted back into reality I recall the aggressive band of Berkeley Boys who are in the hunt for Ivan. I scramble for my cell phone.
“Hello.”
“Sorry about the late hour, Mag,” the caller says, “but you said to get with you immediately if I came across something.”
Now alert I recognize the voice. It’s Boone (aka the Wildman) from Berkeley. He’s got quite a reputation on campus but he is also wicked smart.
“Hey Boone, what’s up?”
“I came across a surveillance video that was taken at a sex shop in the Tenderloin. Compared it to the ones you gave me and it’s a match.”
“Awesome dude. How sure are you?”
“I’d say about ninety-eight point six percent,” he jokes.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
I pump my fist in the air.
“He walks with a slight limp, right?”
“It’s him, Mag. This girl who works there, she’s kinda hot, I mean… in a different kind of way.”
Different?
“I slept with her to get a copy of the video. I’m like, totally dedicated to nailing this creep. I hope the effort is appreciated.”
“Your damn right it is, Boone. I’m sure it was a real sacrifice.”
“Shut up.”
“Can you come over?”
“Now?”
“Uh huh.”
“Can’t get there till seven-thirty.”
“Alright, see you then,” I reply and hang up.
At least Jack can get some rest.
My mind drifts to Detective Gower.
In all probability some of the hotel guests will remember me following Amber into the bar and sitting with her. A homicide investigation into her death and the two killers is definitely underway. I’m imagining a composite police sketch with my image making the rounds, drawn from eyewitness accounts.
I am finding it harder to resist the urge to contact Emily and seek help. Maybe Hector Gray was right when he said Jack and I were in over our heads. I decide to discuss it with Jack as soon as possible.
I head into the bedroom to get a couple hours of sleep myself.
I see that Jack is out like a light.
God bless him and his tender heart.
I change into a night shirt and slip in beside him. In the darkness I stare at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts.
Assassins were sent to kill us. Who are these animals? And who hired them?
Chapter
33
Jack and I wake at seven and share a breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs and strong coffee. I get up and stand at the kitchen window, soaking in the warm rays of the sun.
The new day suggests fresh hope and optimism.
Hope, optimism? These words seem alien to me right now.
Just after seven there’s a knock at the door and I open it, but just till the chain catches. I see Boone standing in the hallway and he’s wide awake and smiling.
When does he sleep?
“What’s up Wildman?” Jack asks him as he walks in.
“Oh… not much, just this footage of Ivan the psycho,” he replies as he proudly waves the video in the air.
Jack sits down at the kitchen table and boots up his laptop before inserting the CD.
As the video starts to play all eyes are on the screen.
Jack and I cannot believe it.
It’s him!
Jack turns to Boone and gives him a bro tap.
“You are one kick ass dude… the best! Berkeley Bro. We owe you one.”
Boone smiles.
“Forget about it. I have my own reasons.”
“Revenge?” I ask.
“Something like that. When I heard this scumbag bumped off Dylan Hunter I went ballistic. We’re a tight bunch at Berkeley. Couldn’t let it go. I had to jump in.”
Jack turns to me.
“Maggie and I are glad you did.”
“Yeah, nice work Boone.”
“Don’t mention it,” he replies as he glances at his watch. “Whoa, running late for class.”
He gives me a big hug and Jack walks him to the door. Before leaving he says, “Watch your backs, and call if you need me.”
“Will do,” I reply.
“Take care bro,” he says to Jack on his way out.
I call for a taxi and Jack and I kill a little time before the Ben Dover Sex Shop opens for business. Once there, Jack tells the driver to stop along the curb and with the use of a portable printer he makes copies of two photos and hands them to me.
“Ready?”
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
We head inside and Jack browses S & M toys as I approach the salesgirl behind the counter. Boone was right: she’s cute, but in a sleazy way and she has that worn-out look of an addict.
“Hey,” she says. “Can I help you?”
I slide the photo of Ivan across the counter.
“Ever seen this guy before?”
She takes the photo in her hand and looks at it.
“Nope.”
“That’s strange,” I say and pull out a second photo. This one shows the girl waiting on Ivan. I slide it over and she picks it up. “Care to rethink your bullshit answer?”
She hands the photo back.
“Who wants to know?”
I open my jacket and reveal a holstered 9mm and a phony badge hanging on my belt.
“San Francisco Police.”
“Got a warrant? Customer information’s confidential.”
This chick is tough.
I decide to bluff. I’m guessing this lost soul has had countless sexual encounters, not including the one she had with Boone.
“Excuse me… I didn’t get your name.”
“I didn’t give it.”
I glare at her and she finally relents.
“It’s Rikki.”
“Rikki what?”
“Rikki Love.”
I press on.
“Listen Rikki, I doubt whether the police department would take kindly to your ‘extracurricular activities’ in connection with your job here.”
“When did they make a law against dating customers?”
Dating? Eww. I hope Boone wore a condom.
I’m getting desperate. I take a gamble.
“Not dating,” I reply. “Drugs.”
“What is this, some kind of narco entrapment?”
She fidgets nervously. I think I hit a nerve.
“Look, I just need answers to a few questions and then we’ll be gone, okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I noticed on the surveillance tape that this guy purchased several items. Did he use a credit card?”
She shakes her head.
“Cash.”
“The female in the photo. Have you seen her before?”
“Nope.”
“Did you notice how they arrived, or left?”
“Taxi.”
“Do you remember which company?”
“Yellow Cab. The driver brings customers here a lot.”
“What’s his…”
“Jesse.”
“You see, that wasn’t hard, was it?”
“You mean we’re done?”
“Yeah,” I reply as I turn and head for the exit.
Jack follows me out.
We set out to track down Jesse the Cabbie and after a bit of sleuthing we finally locate him at a park near the Golden Gate Bridge.
Jack and I climb into his cab and hand him a hundred dollar bill, asking to be taken to the exact location where he dropped Ivan and the girl.
Ten minutes later Jesse pulls to the curb at the Civic Center Plaza.
“Are you sure this is where you took them?”
“Positive.”
“Can you remember anything that might be helpful,” Jack asks.
Jesse pauses for a moment and something comes to mind.
“It was kind of strange.”
“What was?” Jack says.
“Well, after I dropped ‘em off and I was driving away I noticed in my rearview mirror that they didn’t go into the Civic Center.”
“Where did they go?” I ask.
“They walked toward the Tenderloin.”
Jack and I look at each other.
The noose is getting tighter.
Chapter
34
It’s late in the afternoon and a jumble of notes and papers cover the kitchen table in our dingy apartment. I grab the coffee pot, fill two mugs and hand one of them to Jack.
He is lying on the sofa, studying a street map.
“Thanks,” he says and takes the mug.
I notice the intense expression on his face.
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking about this creep and where in the Tenderloin he might be hiding out.”
“Jesse the cabbie thought he might be in the southern section.”
“If only we had something concrete to narrow the search.”
“Tell me about it. The Berkeley Boys are spread all over the place.”
Suddenly my cell starts ringing.
Jack almost dumps his coffee mug in his lap when he jumps up from the sofa.
I grab the phone.
“Hello.”
“Guess who, Maggie?”
“Hey Boone, what’s up?”
“The Boys and I have come across somebody who can help.”
It seems that Jack and I made the right decision when we asked Boone to take charge of the lead group among the Berkeley Boys.
Long live the zealot.
His group of guys had set out in search of anybody who knew Ivan and had the guts to rat on him.
It’s the ratting part that makes the hunt so difficult: finding somebody who has a death wish isn’t easy.
Caleb, who is in Boone’s group, struck up a conversation with a guy named Archie Pearce in a bar. He’s on his last legs and wasting away from liver failure.
When Caleb got around to talking about Ivan, Archie wouldn’t shut up. The two of them met each other in San Quentin. Ivan was doing a five-year slide for manslaughter. Following a disagreement outside a bar one night he had beaten to death two people with a tire iron, one of them a female.
