Griffin couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You’ve got the imagination, that’s for sure. Yeah, I did some traveling as Gary Willet, the name you saw on my phone bill that time. Got all the papers lined up, tried the rural recluse bit, too obvious, so I decided to hide in plain sight right here in this great city, just as it was getting crowded with international nefarious types and the usual bums, then I found this wacky environment. Perfect for me until now. I gave up trying to get a passport without setting off flares, and I thought I was safe.”
“Yes, that’s the point, isn’t it, Griffin? Safe from what? There’s a bottom line here you haven’t got to yet. I can understand that you’re a threat because of what you know, from the file. But what else did you do?”
Griffin sat there in stony silence, knowing that eyes were boring into him.
“You know me too well.”
“Yes. I know if you think it’s so bad you can’t talk about it, it can only mean one thing.”
“Come on, Leo. We’ve got a train to catch,” snapped Pete.
“It was an accident. More like self-defense.”
“Here it comes,” said Ann softly.
“An FBI man, I suppose,” added Pete helpfully.
“Yes, he was the night minder. I’d planned everything perfectly. On my way out of the door for good, middle of the night. I wasn’t meant to run into him. He’d gone to the toilet. He came right at me, swinging a baseball bat. That’s all they did, the minders, practice their swings. We had a stupid tussle, and his gun was holstered but I knew he’d grab it the first opportunity. I just wanted to live. I got hold of the bat and just hit him once, only once I promise you. More strength than I knew I had, it was the passion in me. I thought later in a court of law I could have got off with a light sentence, but hey, there was no justice coming up for me. Just once and he was gone, his skull was just… like… Sorry.”
There was no rejoinder, no comforting remark, no witty riposte, just dead air in the room. Pete broke the silence.
“You’re going to have to answer for it, Leo. No use running. The court of law is waiting for you, man.”
“They want to kill me. This is no official search. Why do you think that FBI guy is under cover? When he finds me he’ll shoot me stone dead. Unless he’s got some plan to take me somewhere and torture me first. That’s if they still want that file.”
“You still got it?”
“Security deposit box. I’ve set it up, anything happens to me, the key will be found, unleash the dogs of war. That stuff will never be redundant.”
“Griffin’s got a point. The man didn’t have a card, he just wrote a phone number on a piece of paper with his last name only, Cortez.”
“Why should you get away with murder?”
“It was him or me. Put yourself in my shoes, at that time, I mean.”
“No thanks. I’m beginning to see the attraction of being a washed up rock star with a criminal record. You put yourself in your shoes, Leo. You made it happen. What the hell were you doing breaking us young kids with your drug scam? Was it to have the power, hang out with the trendies, be the Acid King for a few glorious weeks or something, get the birds fascinated with your mysterious façade?”
“All the above. And more. I got caught myself, with hash and homemade acid coming in to London. I was such a skillful joker I almost got away with it, but I got the attention of the customs guys, and then the airport security man, who put me in a room to present to a few of his colleagues, until the head man walked in. He was serious level. Not CID, probably MI5 or 6, I never found out. He was one of those toffee nosed bastards, as you would call him, definitely a big shot. He kept asking me questions, nodding and thinking up a storm behind that polite attitude. They must have had some plan, and I was just what they were looking for.” Griffin skewered Pete with a look that begged sympathy.
“You remember the times, Pete. The authorities kept knocking off the odd musician, Donovan, Brian Jones, but they were looking for a big scoop. They took me to a lock up, and a couple of days later in walks the big man accompanied by the American equivalent of him. After a couple of meaningless remarks, he made me a proposition. Offered me complete freedom, not even a plea bargain, nothing on my record. All I had to do was follow instructions.”
Griffin looked at his audience just to check they were still following him. He didn’t need to. Pete was absorbing every word.
“To the letter. They explained the whole thing but refused to write it down. I had to memorize and repeat the program. They would provide me with all the drugs, highest quality, a mixture of hash, grass of various vintages, including some new ones. Man these people were clearly in the racket. Columbia, Peru, Humboldt County, you name it, the best, all packaged brilliantly. And their pièce de résistance was the acid. They explained it was the most pure, liquid, hospital stuff. That fixed it for me, I knew they had to be CIA. They’d practically invented the stuff. Now they were ready to put it on the market in a blaze of publicity, to coin a phrase.”
“So what was their plan?” asked Pete with flinty eyes and a nasty look.
“I just had to launch myself into society. Spin a web of enchantment with free drugs. The charming Yank who became the darling of the swinging set, zero in on the most famous ones and bring ’em down, baby. You happened to be first. But it got out of hand, I didn’t have a chance to incriminate my next victims. The damage was done. I had to run for it.”
Pete’s expression sagged into a picture of nostalgia and regret.
Ann was quietly crying.
“But you know what really almost caught them with their pants down? It was Madeleine, that beautiful girl, I would have done anything to have a romance with her, I worshipped Madeleine. The way she suffered made the whole crappy deal look pathetic, even though they got what they wanted. The man who was my supervisor on the deal, the one who whisked me away from the scene and out of London, he was screaming at me, blaming me for including the girl in the bust. ‘I didn’t plan on having no damn Joan of Arc to contend with here,’ he yelled, spitting all over me. They went soft on their tactics after that, reasonably satisfied with the chaos they’d created, until they had to face up to John Lennon later on, he was the really serious spanner in the works for them. He never let up. God bless his soul.”
Griffin looked at the mess he had made, and decided to continue.
“So there I was, back in the States, in a safe house, ha ha, next best thing to prison in fact, no passport, and too dangerous to let go. A grenade with a loose pin, and foaming at the mouth in my usual way. What were they going to do with me? I was their loose cannon. I reckoned I was a one bullet option. Nobody knew who I was or where I’d gone, only my mother cared. My father had been dead for a year, and my sister didn’t give a damn about me, I was the deadbeat sibling long before that happened, hippie freak and all that, closest thing to Manson she knew in her little anal corporation world.”
There was no reaction to him.
“You appreciate, I hope, that no one in this life has heard this whole story. I’ve kept the whole experience zipped up in my gut somewhere, like a nasty little devil I have to feed with booze, weed, coke and questionable food. Except for Juno, that is. And she’s never heard it like this. She still thinks she can save me. She tried to make me normal with a child, but it didn’t hold up to its looming father figure. After that I never let her try any more. I married her because of the pregnancy and to keep her loyal.”
CHAPTER 56
“What do you want now, Leo? What is it?” Pete asked.
“Escape. A ticket to Mexico, that’s just the jumping off point, a passport, then down into cocaine land. I’ll disappear. Live like a peasant. I long for it. Start again, be at peace.”
For the first time since he got there Pete looked at his watch, and his compulsive list-making mind shot into gear.
“Ann, I hope you don’t mind, I have to make a phone call, there’s someone on my mind now I have to get in to
uch with. I’ll make it short.”
CHAPTER 57
In the kitchen Pete checked his phone list for the number he wanted, dialing it, long distance.
The ringing droned on for a while before Carol’s pinched voice answered with a hello that had a quivering question mark at the end of it.
“Hi, Carol, it’s Pete, I’m in Los Angeles.”
“Oh, thank God! Have you seen him?”
“Who?”
“Barry. He’ll be there in L.A. by now, tricky little bastard. He left without telling me, I was out, then he called with a message from the airport…”
“Slow down, Carol. Why is he in L.A.? I thought he was too wigged out to cross the fucking road.”
“I don’t know why, Pete, but I know how. You gave him the money.”
“Oh shit. I did but that wasn’t the idea. Crafty blighter, but did he give you any idea who he was planning to see, anything like that?”
“I can tell you this, from the sound of his voice he’s taken a few days’ worth of his happy pills. I’m worried about him. I’m really scared, Pete. What are we going to do?”
“Let me talk to a few people. Like Tony, find out if Barry called him, if he knows I’m here and where to find me. Listen, I’m at the Mondrian, Tony’s got the number, but call him if you hear anything, he’ll leave a message if I’m not in my room, and I’ll get straight back to you. Let you know if he turns up.”
“Promise, Pete?”
“Sure, Carol. I promise.”
Pete shook his head as blinding calculations whizzed through his brain. He dialed his home number to reach Tony, drumming his fingers on the tiles. He knew there’d be a swift pickup and he rode over Tony’s formal voice.
“Listen, Tony, this is urgent. Did Barry call you in the last couple of days?”
There was slight hesitation before he said, “No. Why?”
“Because he got on a plane and flew over here, that’s why. Anything I should know? Like, that address you gave me on the dealer…”
“Oh Christ. Yeah, man. I told Carol, but she would never tell him anything like that.”
“He must have got hold of it somehow. We’re in trouble here, Tony.”
“Let me call that friend of mine, you know, the security guy I got the info from. What about the girl?”
“What girl?”
“Madeleine’s friend. She might know something. She works at that free weekly paper.”
“Yes, I know,” said Pete with irritation now at being outpaced.
“So later, then, chief,” said Tony hanging up hastily.
CHAPTER 58
“Something’s wrong,” said Ann, looking at him as he put the phone down and came back into the room. Pete glared at Griffin.
“Barry’s in L.A. and my guess is he’ll be over at your place waiting for you.”
“Not possible.”
“Really? I’d already been over there myself, before I came here,” said Pete.
Griffin perked up.
“Were the cops still there?”
“Not a sign. I walked around, cased the place, knocked a few times, it was real quiet.”
“I gotta go over. Something I left behind. Be right back.”
“Don’t be crazy, Griffin. They’ll be watching for you.”
Griffin disappeared. Ann knew what he was doing.
“Pete, you know the police’ll jump on him the second he appears.”
“Yes, I’ve seen that on the telly. And I did notice there were a lot of new cars parked around for such a dump. What do you reckon he left there?”
“Probably that key. Pete, we have to go with him.”
“Not you, darling.”
Ann firmed up. “I’m coming,” she said.
Griffin walked back into the apartment in his full rabbi gear. Pete just shook his head.
“You’re too much, man. Is this the way you have to live?”
“Goes with my nose, don’t you think?”
He opened the coat and revealed a glimpse of his gun, a big smile to go with it.
“Yes, this is the way I live.”
He wheeled around and disappeared so quickly that Pete and Ann had to scramble to follow him. By the time they’d made it to the street all they could see was a pair of tail-lights vanishing ahead.
“My car’s right here. We know where he’s going,” Pete called out. Ann didn’t hesitate.
Seated in the car and strapping in, Ann looked over.
“Please don’t tell me you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Good to be alive, isn’t it?”
Pete leaned over to kiss her on the cheek but suddenly oncoming headlights blinded him. He watched as Cortez jammed his brakes, jumped out of the car and ran over to them.
“You alright, Miss Stapleton?” he asked, peering across Pete and into Ann’s startled eyes. Then without waiting for an answer. “I’d like to talk to both of you.”
“Have you heard anything from Griffin?” asked Ann sincerely.
“My man on duty down the street told me a unidentified car has been parked here for several hours…”
“Griffin doesn’t have a car,” Ann replied “Not what you would call a car, he does have a wrecked looking jeep I’ve never seen him drive.”
Cortez looked angry.
“That thing is still parked near his residence. I’m talking about the car that just left. My officer said it went off in that direction.”
“Must have been visiting one of my neighbors,” Ann said, concerned about what Barry would do if he was hanging about outside waiting for Griffin when he pulled up.
“Well, if you don’t mind, then, I’d like to take Miss Stapleton to dinner,” said Pete politely. He knew they were trapped, and even when they got away there was a good chance the agent would follow them, but it was all a risk now. His priority was Barry, and the hope that he wouldn’t unleash the rage he’d bottled up for years at the sight of his enemy.
***
When they saw that Cortez was following them, and making no effort to conceal it, Pete and Ann headed straight for Le Dome and swung to the right into the hands of the valet parking attendants. They could see Cortez slow down, then stop and double park ahead of the restaurant. He sat for a while and waited. Watching Pete and Ann enter arm-in-arm. Then decided to head back to the stake-out in the hope that Rivkin would appear.
Ann and Pete went downstairs and left through the back exit. Collected the car, and drove off.
CHAPTER 59
Griffin’s Place
It was dark as Griffin the rabbi came loping round the block and walked past the alleyway entrance, his eyes flitting in all directions, looking for signs of watchers, in cars, on rooftops. He circled the entire block and came back the other way, checking out the street door, then moved round to the back entrance, stopped, looked each way, slipped in his key and stepped inside.
At the foot of the stairs he stopped and looked around. There was a small light burning at his desk just as he left it and he went straight there to case its contents, checking out the hidden drawer and seeing it hadn’t been disturbed. Groping under the drawer space, he tore off something that was taped down, a key inside a plastic envelope. Took off the hat, wig and overcoat, mopped his brow with the scarf and tossed it on the chair. Only then did he look into the far corner of the room straight down the barrel of Barry’s gun.
“Who the fuck are you?” snapped Griffin, keeping it together like an old pro. Barry switched on the light beside his chair.
“Just an old drug buddy from the sixties, King Leo.”
“Jesus,” said Griffin, genuinely amazed, “Barry, from The Veils. What is this, Top of the Pops? Just been chatting to old Pete Stebbings. What next, the Jim and Jimi show?”
“No, chum, they’re dead. Me, I’m one of the living dead. Thanks to you, you bastard. And I’ve only been living for this moment.”
“Mind if I sit down, then, so we talk about it?”
<
br /> Without waiting for an answer Griffin sat down on his desk chair, where he’d dropped his overcoat, knowing exactly how to reach the pocket with the gun in it, and thinking about the when.
“What’s to discuss, your fucking majesty?”
“Your friend Pete was fascinated enough to discuss our mutual history for an hour or so. Don’t you want to hear the details before you zip my mouth?”
“I’ve got one question for you.”
“Only one, after all this time?”
“Who were you working for?”
“Cointelpro. Ever heard of that?”
“No.”
“And I thought you were such an alert political little beast.”
Barry didn’t rise to the bait. His voice was calm.
“Who is Cointelpro?”
“It’s a snappy name for an FBI counter intelligence program. Object was to eliminate radicals, whatever it took. You guys were a pushover, a few nights in jail and you turned into mush, crying, committing suicide, nervous breakdowns, heroin, they knew you didn’t have the guts to actually take up the political sword and fight them back. You sang a good song, but you were all weak as baby shit when your plush little rock star lives were threatened. Did you know you could have won if you’d pushed back? You had the numbers, man, look at Woodstock. That had the governments worried. They don’t like those numbers, it brings out the worst in them. Look what they did after all those gay studs rioted in San Francisco.” He sighed with nostalgia.
“What did they do after San Francisco?”
“AIDS, man, AIDS, where the hell do you think it came from? They had it in Africa first, cooked up in the alphabet soup kitchen, CIA, NSA, FBI, like all the other plans brewing in there, new world odor, man, you can smell it coming. You think all those black skeletal folk are just starving, no, man, they’re sick.”
He paused, noticing Barry’s hand relaxing its grip of the gun.
“Give these big government guys another twenty years and it’s gonna be too late to look back and say Oh Yeah, I see. We all let it happen, me too, except I was just too beaten up and solitary to do anything with it. A whole generation gave up the fight and now we’re all battery chickens, so much for flower power, that sick fuck Charlie Manson gave the conservatives a big boost and they took it from there, it was all over. We got neutralized, man, that’s just the kind of word they like in the service. Sounds clean and effective, looks good on paper. The sixties revolution was neutralized.”
The Acid King Page 14
