by D. V. Berkom
“She was never coming back, Jean.” Leine took a deep breath to rein in her frustration. “I have to tell you in the strongest terms possible that I believe you are making a huge mistake. The more boots on the ground to search for her, the better chance we have of locating Mara before the traffickers do.”
“She's right,” Miles said. “More people will be able to find her sooner. Once we find her, we can start the new life we've been talking about.”
Jean looked away without a reply. Leine pulled one of Lou's cards from her pocket. “I can see you're determined to do this the hard way. Take my friend's card. It's got his personal cell phone number and a twenty-four hour hotline. Call him anytime. He'll help you. He's a good man.”
Jean accepted the card but laid it on the table. Leine didn't like the set of her jaw or the resolute look on her face. The traffickers must have done a number on her. Her refusal to get help didn't jibe with the way a worried mother would react when presented with a viable alternative. But, what did Leine know? Maybe Jean hadn't told them the whole story. Maybe they threatened to do more than she'd let on.
“Where did they see Mara last?” Jean asked.
“A homeless shelter downtown.”
Jean leaned forward. “We should go there, then. That's within a few blocks of where you saw her at the theater, right? Knowing Mara, I think she'd try to stay in one place since she doesn't know the city.” She looked at Miles. “She doesn't know anyone in L.A. She might try to get to you again. Do you have any public appearances planned in the next few days?”
“Just some talk-shows, entertainment stuff, but they're all shot in a studio. I don't have anything like what you're talking about until the premiere on Saturday.” Miles glanced at Leine. “Jean's right. We should look for her. Time's running out.”
“And just how do you think you're going to do that in the middle of L.A.? You're too recognizable,” Leine said.
“I can go incognito.” Miles jumped up from his chair, clearly taken with the idea. “I've got a closet full of costumes and makeup upstairs. I've even got fake chins and noses.” He rubbed his hands together. “I'll dress like a homeless person. No one will recognize me.”
“I don't think that's a good idea, Miles. We're trying to keep you safe from kidnappers, remember?”
“That's what I pay you for. To keep me safe.” He tilted his head toward Jean. “And my sister, too.”
“That's not what we agreed. I am responsible for you, and you only, Miles. No offense, Jean, but you don't get two for the price of one. It doesn't work that way.”
Jean held up her hand. “I don't need—” she began.
“Jean is my sister, Leine. I'll double your fee, as long as you agree to guard her, too.”
“Does that include finding her daughter? Because I didn’t sign on for that, either.” Leine could feel her blood pressure rise and was having a hard time resisting the urge to leave. Calm down, Leine. Work this out. You don't want word of this to filter back to the bastards running the investigation on you. She had to stay under the radar—not give them any more fuel for the fire.
“Please, Leine? We've got to do something. I can't just sit here and do nothing. It's my niece, for God's sake. What would you do if it were your family?” Miles looked at her, his eyes pleading.
She wanted to remind him that the results confirming their relationship hadn't come back from the lab yet, but let it go for the time being. “Fine. Double my fee. I'll take you into Hollywood. The costume better be good, or I won’t risk it. No one can recognize you.”
“Done,” Miles said. Leine ignored his proffered hand.
“I want your word you will listen to me and if I tell you to do something, you'll do it, no questions asked.” Leine sighed as she thought about the logistical nightmare of keeping track of Miles in costume in Hollywood. She eyed the pitcher, estimating he'd had approximately three drinks. Not too bad, if you compared it to what he usually ingested prior to an evening out.
“Absolutely, Leine.” Miles turned to Jean. “You game?”
Jean looked relieved. “Yes, definitely. Let's go.”
“We'll do this one time. If we don't have any luck, then I want Jean's promise she will contact the police.”
“Yes, yes, yes! I promise. But we'll find her, I know it.” Jean squeezed Leine's arm as she got up and headed toward the house.
Leine sighed as she pulled out her phone to call for the car. It wouldn't be any harder to track them both as long as they stayed together. Besides, she'd begun to think it might be even more important to keep an eye on Jean.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IT WAS HALF PAST SIX by the time they made it to Hollywood Boulevard. Miles told his driver to let them out a couple of blocks east to begin their search. Leine suggested they chart their progress on her phone, keeping track of where they'd been and where they intended to go next. Their first stop was the homeless shelter where Mara was seen last. Leine asked to speak with the director.
Heinrich Bauer greeted them at the front door. “I was just leaving for the day. You caught me at a good moment,” he said, his smile weary. He eyed Miles, with his filthy hair and several layers of well-used clothes. He'd gone all out in authenticating his costume and was sporting a fake nose and colored contacts. Leine would never have recognized him if she saw him on the street.
“I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Are you looking for a bed?” Heinrich asked. “We're booked for the evening, but I can call another shelter to see if they have room…”
“No, thank you. I'm Leine Basso, a friend of Lou Stokes from SHEN.” Leine offered her card, which Heinrich took. “We're looking for the little girl you filed a report about a couple of days ago. The one with unusual green eyes?”
Recognition lit his face. “Ah, yes. She was by herself. Apparently a runaway. Two men came in looking for her. One of them claimed to be her uncle, but I had my doubts.”
“Why is that?” Leine asked.
“He had a Russian accent and she did not. And, they didn't even remotely resemble one another. It's merely a hunch, but he seemed less interested in her well-being than a relative would normally be. I'll tell you what I told them. If you're trying to find someone, you should get to know the homeless people down here.” He glanced at Miles. “But, I see you've already done so.”
“Has she been back?” Jean asked.
“This is her mother, Jean,” Leine said, by way of introduction.
“I see.” Heinrich inclined his head as he glanced at her through his bifocals. “Then I was correct in my assumption about them. I'm sorry. No, she has not. If she does, I will contact the police. I'm sure you understand. I filed a similar report with the Human Trafficking Unit the day after she was here, so they have what little information I could provide. Once they have her in custody, they'll be able to sort this all out and return her to those who truly care for her. You've filed a report, of course.”
Leine nodded. It served no purpose to put Jean on the spot, so she let his comment go. “That would be the best course of action, Mr. Bauer. Thank you for your time. If you hear anything about her being picked up by law enforcement, could you please give me a call?” She indicated the card in his hand. Heinrich squinted at it and nodded.
“Of course. I hope someone finds her soon. Twelve years old on these streets is like a young gazelle loose in a field of hungry lions.”
Leine glanced at Jean, but it was hard to gauge her reaction. “Again, Mr. Bauer, thank you for your time.” They walked him to his car in the parking lot behind the building and watched him drive away.
“Well that was a waste of time.” Jean said, pacing back and forth. “Except now we know how the kidnappers found out about Mara being at the shelter. Just like they said, they have someone in the LAPD.”
“Not necessarily.”
Jean gave Leine a look. “Right. The guy submits a report to the cops and the two kidnappers just happen to check this homeless shelter two days later? Come on, Leine. Y
ou can't be serious.” Jean closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.
“They could have come up with the idea of checking shelters the same way we did. It's not rocket science.” Leine watched Jean with acute interest. What was it about the police that had her so worried? The background check hadn't turned up any major criminal activity. She made a mental note to run a more thorough investigation when they got back. “Either way, if she does show up again and he calls the cops, no one's going to be able to take her from a police station except her legal guardian.”
“I'm sorry. You're right. It's just that I don't know what to think. I'm so scared of what they'll do. He led me to believe they have a long reach,” Jean said.
Leine noted the sagging skin around her eyes. She looked exhausted.
“Well, are we going to keep looking? I didn't get all gussied up to stand here and look pretty.” Miles smiled, his teeth exceedingly white against his dirty face.
“You might not want to smile too often,” Leine said, and tapped her finger against her teeth.
Miles caught her meaning and groaned. “Shit. How stupid is that to forget to yellow my teeth?”
“You could always chew on some dirt. There's plenty of it available,” Leine suggested.
“Uh-huh. Did I tell you there was a limit to my realism? Let's go. We're not doing Mara any good here.”
They walked back to Hollywood Boulevard and headed toward Grauman's Chinese Theater. Traffic was heavy. Leine glanced to her right in time to see a black 1969 Camaro SS drive past, Santiago Jensen in the driver's seat. Leine's heart stopped when she realized he wasn't alone. The distinct silhouette of a woman's head with long, flowing hair could be seen sitting in the passenger side. Leine watched as the taillights melted into the others, disappearing with the rest of the traffic.
He could be giving someone a ride home, Leine argued with herself. It was the end of the day and Jensen would probably offer a ride, especially to a woman. Still, Leine felt a twinge of possessiveness rear its ugly head. You have no hold on him, Leine. He's a free agent and can be with whomever he chooses, the same as you. Her pep talk didn't do much for the way she was feeling. Miles nudged her with his elbow.
“You all right? You look like you want to rip somebody's head off,” he said.
“I'm fine.” Leine made an effort to smile. She could tell by the way Miles looked at her that it wasn't working. “Really, Miles. Nothing's wrong.”
Miles did an eye-roll. They continued to the forecourt of Grauman's Theater to join the crowd of tourists and cartoon characters, and hopefully find Mara.
***
Ned and Yuri walked across the alley, headed toward the Gospel Mission Homeless Center. Ned had suggested they continue to work Heinrich Bauer as a contact, arguing that he was plugged into the homeless community and would hear about Mara before they'd even gotten a hint of where she was. Yuri was about ready to snuff helpful Ned and dump his body off the Santa Monica Pier. Finding Mara was Yuri's responsibility, not Ned's.
“Did you ever call Fournier's publicist to find out where his next appearance will be?” Ned asked. Yuri rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I called her. He doesn't have anything scheduled for the general public until the premiere of his latest movie.”
“When's that?”
“Not until Saturday.”
Ned groaned. “Christ. Greg's going to have our asses in a sling way before then.”
Yuri nodded, a glum look on his face.
“What if we don't find her?” Ned asked.
“I don't want to think about it.” For starters, Greg would be in trouble with the big client, could even end up losing his business. It didn't matter to Yuri. He'd be one dead Ukrainian before then. His feet hurt from pounding the pavement for fourteen hours a day. The closest they'd gotten to finding Mara was when they beat the hell out of that cowardly little cartoon character after he brought them to his run-down apartment. Yuri was certain she would be there by the way the little man was acting. But, somehow she'd slipped away, and he hadn't seen or heard of her since. He didn't dare go back to Greg without her, and hadn't called in for two days.
They turned the corner before the shelter and Yuri stopped in his tracks. Unaware he'd stopped, Ned nearly ran him over.
“What?” Ned followed Yuri's gaze.
Four people stood on the sidewalk outside the homeless shelter: Bauer, a homeless bum and two women. The women seemed familiar, but were turned away from them, so he wasn't sure where he knew them from. One of the them turned and Yuri got a glimpse of her in profile. She was the tall brunette Yuri'd seen at Grauman's the other day. That clinched it. Now he remembered where he'd seen her before.
“Do you recognize the woman with Bauer?” Yuri asked Ned.
Ned shook his head. “No, should I?”
“If you want to get in good with my people, yes.”
“Okay.” Ned waited a minute then said, “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
Yuri leaned down next to Ned's ear and lowered his voice. “That, my friend, is the woman who stole a precious artifact from Nadja Imports in West Hollywood a few months back, and killed my cousin Borys in the process. My uncle is so pissed off, he doesn't know whether to kill her or buy her a drink.”
Ned gave Yuri a sidelong glance. “If she stole something precious and killed a relative, why would you buy her a drink? That makes no sense.”
“It is rumored that many years ago she killed the one called the Frenchman. An enemy so reviled, anyone who exterminated that rat-fuck would go down in Russian history as a saint.”
“Then it was okay that she stole whatever it was. I get it.” Ned nodded his head knowingly.
Yuri spat on the ground. “No. What she stole was part of the Frenchman's heritage. My uncle kept it displayed above his desk. It belonged to those the Frenchman wronged.”
“Okay. Then you should kill her or try to get the artifact back, right?” Ned cocked his head, frowning.
Yuri shook his head. “Impossible. The artifact is gone, taken by police during an investigation of the rat-fuck's son. That woman was in league with the Frenchman's descendant.”
“But why would she help the Frenchman's son if she killed the father? Some twisted sense of responsibility?” Ned rubbed his temples. “You're sure it's her?”
“I am certain. We must follow her, find out where she lives.”
“We can't, Yuri. We have to find the girl, remember?”
“No. This comes before anything else.”
“Even your life? Because that's what's gonna happen if we don't find her.” Ned raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. Even my life. Family is everything. I would never forgive myself if I did nothing with this opportunity. It is given from God. I'm certain of it. I, Yuri Kovshevnikov, must follow the woman assassin and report back to my uncle. He will decide what to do with the information.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE LIGHTS SURROUNDING THE THEATER'S forecourt gave the area a festive air, drawing tourists like slugs to spilled beer. Leine and Jean stayed a couple of feet behind Miles, who earned a disgusted stare or two from onlookers. To Leine's surprise, a few of the tourists offered him money, which Miles took, arguing he had to in order to stay in character. One younger guy in a green t-shirt even handed him a hotdog he'd just bought.
He insisted on interviewing the cartoon characters to see if any of them had seen Mara. Leine wasn't optimistic that the questions would lead anywhere. She assumed the two men looking for her had already done so, and she wasn't sure how forceful they'd been in their questioning. Either way, it would inevitably make the characters more wary of strangers. Jean remained on the sidelines and kept quiet, letting Miles do the talking.
Miles walked over to someone in a Darth Vader costume who was between tourists and tapped him on the shoulder. Darth Vader turned and breathed heavily, doing a fair imitation of the overlord. “What do you want, earthling?”
Miles took out the picture of Mara. “
Have you seen this little girl anywhere?”
Darth leaned in to get a closer look and shook his helmeted head. “No, earthling. I have not.” He pointed at a white pantyhose-legged SpongeBob Square Pants who stood in the corner at the far end of the courtyard of the theater, having his picture taken with a well-fed family of six. “You might try speaking with that sponge-creature over there. He tends to be the best connected of us.”
“Thanks.” Miles smiled. Darth Vader straightened and took a step back.
“You look familiar to me, earth dweller. How do I know you?”
Miles pulled out a twenty dollar bill from within the folds of his crusty jacket and handed it to him. “You don't.”
“As you wish.” Darth Vader bowed as he palmed the twenty and walked away.
“I told you not to smile, Miles. It's a dead giveaway,” Leine said as they headed toward SpongeBob.
“Yeah, I know. I fucked up. But at least we got a lead, right?” Miles started to smile but stopped himself.
Leine signaled Jean and they fell back a few steps as Miles waited for SpongeBob to finish up with his group of pudgy tourists. She figured he'd talk more openly to a street person.
She was wrong.
SpongeBob took a swipe at Miles with his cartoon hand. “Get the hell away from me, you dirty-ass son-of-a-bitch. You're fucking with my business.”
In seconds, Leine was behind him, her gun jammed into the foam back of his costume. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “This is a nine-millimeter Glock. You will lower your voice and do exactly as I say, yes?”
SpongeBob nodded.
“Good. Now this gentleman just wants to ask you a couple of questions. We can do it here, or we can do it somewhere more…private.”
“Here works,” SpongeBob replied, his voice a squeak.
“Fine. Go ahead.” She wrinkled her nose. The guy's costume was ripe.
Miles stopped staring at Leine and cleared his throat. Then he showed him Mara's picture. “Have you seen this little girl?”
