by Webb Hubbell
Her voice now heavily accented, Moira said, “I know, but I want to say good-bye. He isn’t a bad man, you know? Besides what’s the rush? They won’t find him till we are long gone.”
“Wake his ass up then, but get out of here. I need to finish, and we need to leave town.”
I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to wake up. Suddenly, I felt a heavy hand go to my groin, grab my testicles, and squeeze. I screamed, or at least tried to. My mouth was taped shut.
I heard the man say, “See, he’s awake. Say goodbye, and get the hell out.”
I looked up to see Moira hovering over me, this time fully clothed.
“It would have been fun to go another round, Jack, but Roger is running out of patience.”
I tried to speak, but the tape kept me silent. I could only stare and strain my restraints.
“Sorry about the duct tape, but we can’t have you screaming, now can we? Although, come to think of it, no one could hear you if you did.” Moira mused. “Jack, you’re just too damn smart for your own good. You found Micki before Roger could finish, and I bet you figured me out too, didn’t you? Too bad you didn’t tell Clovis what you suspected. Thought you could string me along—maybe seduce me like James Bond, you poor fool. Things don’t work that way in real life. I kill people for a living, and you’re a contract, nothing more, and nothing less.
“No one will miss you, at least not for a while. Everyone thinks you’re taking a long nap after your terrible ordeal in jail. Roger and his friends botched Micki, but he’s going to finish the job right this time, aren’t you, Roger? I’ve given him very precise instructions.”
Roger growled, “Don’t tell him everything.”
She turned on him with a sneer. “Don’t tell me what to do, you moron. You’re the one who blew it with the bitch. Listen—I need twenty-four hours before he’s dead. Give him the juice slowly. Don’t give him the final dose until I call, got that? Play your silly games if you must. I don’t care how much he suffers, but don’t leave any clues, and for God’s sake keep him alive until I call. Fuck up again, Roger, and I’m coming for you.”
Moira began to speak in some Slavic language. I had no hope of understanding. I watched her as if I was in another world, unable to process her words, but totally fascinated by her presence. Gone were the ponytail and frumpy blue pants suit. She wore tight designer jeans, Frye boots, and lots of bling.
What are you doing, Jack? Admiring your killer?
I forced myself to look at Roger. He was on the small side, skinny with a bad comb-over and a pencil thin mustache—reminded me of Fredo in The Godfather.
Moira turned back to me. “Roger wants to play a few games, but it won’t be any worse than the night you got all these scars.” Moira ran her fingernail down a long scar along my shoulder. “In fact, the heroin will kick in soon, and you won’t have a care in the world. You should never have interfered, Jack. You’re out of your league.” Collecting her jacket and purse from a chair, she gave me a cool kiss on the forehead and left quickly, leaving only the scent of her perfume.
I sure knew how to pick ‘em.
Roger smiled and busied himself with an IV drip on a stand next to the bed. I tried to thrash around, but he taped my elbow to the side of the bed. I could do nothing but watch as he inserted a catheter roughly into my vein. I noticed he hadn’t bothered to swab my arm with alcohol, but I wasn’t worried about dying from a dirty needle. A hypodermic lay ready on the tray table he had pulled up. I kept pulling against my restraints. Breaking them was unlikely, but maybe an adrenaline rush would give me superhuman strength.
When he turned his back I struggled as hard as I could, but the tape didn’t give an inch. I couldn’t hear what Roger was up to, but it didn’t sound good.
“Moira said you wouldn’t feel a thing, but she’s wrong. I’m not going to set the drip until she calls. I want you to feel everything I do. I’m going to my car for a few instruments I forgot. Don’t go anywhere.” He giggled.
I tried not to panic, willing myself to come up with a plan. The space had been set up like a hospital room, but I could see metal rafters high above me—surely some sort of warehouse. Not much help. I felt sick to my stomach, but did everything I could to avoid throwing up into the duct tape. I might end up choking to death on my own vomit. Not a nice way to go.
I heard footsteps outside the door and steeled myself, dreading whatever Roger was bringing back into the room.
The door burst open and Clovis rushed in, followed closely by Debbie. Clovis jerked the catheter out of my arm, but couldn’t undo the knots of the restraints. Debbie said, “You call the police and watch the door. I’ll do this.”
Clovis backed through the door and began punching in numbers and shouting into his cell. Debbie slowly untied me, talking smoothly. “Relax now. I’m going to take care of you.” She carefully untied my restraints and slowly pulled the tape off my mouth. I could barely hear her—my teeth felt thick.
I watched her press a pillow over my arm. I could see it was bleeding, but didn’t feel much of anything. Stroking my head gently, she said, “Lie back. You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is on the way.” Her tone reminded me of a dreamy-eyed nurse I’d met last year in an emergency room in Little Rock.
I might have dozed off. I wasn’t sure of much anything. But at some point Clovis returned and threw his coat over me. “Sorry about the arm,” he said looking at the bloody pillowcase.
“Not a problem. I . . . I just need a few minutes; I’ll be okay, but. . . .” I sat up. Debbie and Clovis backed off a little while I tried to get my bearings.
I tried to make some sort of sense out of what had just happened.
“Where are we? I’m not sure what . . . I guess I’m still a little woozy. Clovis, get me my clothes. And how’d you find me?”
“It’s a long story, but thank Debbie. She called Novak. And, um, Jack, you don’t seem to have any clothes here.” Now my memory was crystal clear—wasn’t much I could say.
Debbie smiled, not the least bit flustered. I tried to change the subject.
“Oh, Jeez. Thank you, Debbie. I want to hear the whole story. It couldn’t have been an easy call to make.”
She lowered her eyes, still holding my hands. Then she looked up with a start. “Moira’s been here.”
Clovis protested. “Moira, no way—she’s interviewing students and professors.”
“I’d know her perfume anywhere. I asked her about it the first day I met her.”
My eyes told truth to Clovis, who shook his head in denial.
“Sorry, Clovis, she’s right. Did you get the other guy?”
“What other guy?” Clovis was instantly on alert.
“Moira left me with some guy named Roger. He went out to his car just before you got here—said he forgot something. ” Clovis drew his gun and headed to the door.
“No!” I put out my arm to stop him. “He’s either long gone or waiting to ambush you. Stay here until the police arrive.”
Clovis hesitated, unwilling to face the truth. “Moira?” He already knew the answer.
“Clovis, don’t feel bad, she fooled both of us. What’s done is done—now it’s time to end this.”
33
I TRIED TO wave away the ambulance, but wasn’t given any choice. Debbie rode with me while Clovis dealt with the police. The docs gave me a thorough inspection, but because Roger hadn’t started the drip I really was okay. They fussed about shock and infection, gave me an antibiotic, and recommended I see a therapist. I took the antibiotics, declined therapy. Clovis appeared with some clothes and Maggie, who managed to look both relieved and disgusted. We sat in silence waiting for the discharge papers. To my surprise, Eric suddenly appeared in the doorway. He’d heard the story and had come to check on me. His news wasn’t so good. Micki was back in ICU.
As Eric was leaving, Sam barged in without warning, and without a smile. “Jack, your nine lives are about to run out. I need you to give a statement to my dete
ctive. If Clovis has his facts straight, we have two killers on the loose. The hunt for Moira is on, but we’ve got nothing so far and we have no idea who her partner is and no idea why they were about to kill you. It’s time for you to spill the beans.”
“I’ll talk to your detective, but I want Maggie and Clovis to hear everything, and I want Debbie to tell you how she found me. Sam, I need your help if we’re going to put a stop to all this.”
Exasperated, he drug his fingers through his hair, but relented. The detective came in, and I told them most of what had happened. I left out the intimacy at the hotel. My screw-up was none of their business. I told them Moira must have snuck into my room and knocked me out. I showed them the welt on the back of my neck and told them I’d woken to find myself tied up. I repeated what Moira had said about breaking cover and someone putting a contract out on me, and described Roger. The detective left immediately to put out an all-points for Roger, and I asked Debbie to tell us how she’d found me.
“We were still going through Micki’s files, when Clovis called to ask if we’d heard from you. He was worried because you didn’t answer your phone and you weren’t at the hotel. Your bed had been slept in, but your room was empty. Maggie joked that you were probably flirting with Moira at some bar and had forgotten your phone. Sorry, Jack, that’s what she said.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows, clearly not by way of apology. Boy, was I glad none of them knew the whole story.
Debbie continued. “Thirty minutes later he came into the office looking like the world had come to an end. He couldn’t find you anywhere. He was convinced you’d been grabbed, and while he was calling Sam, the police, and every spare body he had to look for you, I slipped away to make a call.”
Sam interrupted “And just who did you call?”
“Novak.”
Sam frowned harshly, but Debbie held her ground. “I know, I know. Micki will be pissed, but I couldn’t think of anything else I could do to help. Look, I know everybody else thinks Novak grabbed Micki, but I don’t and neither does Jack. Why would he kidnap Jack? It doesn’t make sense. So I thought maybe Novak knew who was trying to frame him and where they might have taken Jack.” She licked her lips, now a little unsure of herself.
Maggie leaned over to put her arm around her. “What you did saved Jack’s life. You have nothing to be sorry for. Tell us what he said.”
“He took my call right away. He was scary-angry, not at me, but at what had happened. He’s not about to be anybody’s fall guy. He told me to sit by the phone. About ten minutes later, he called me back with a few locations where Jack could be. I told Clovis and, thank God, we found Jack at the one he said was the most likely.”
Hands on his chin, Sam mouthed a quiet “wow.” “Debbie, have you talked to him since then?”
She looked at Maggie, who nodded her encouragement.
“I called him once we got to the hospital. He’s in Dallas. You can contact him at the same number. He’ll tell you everything he knows.”
“You’re damn right I want to ‘contact’ him. He led you directly to Jack. He’s behind every bit of this. He put out the contract on Jack—I’d bet a million bucks on it.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets in frustration.
Debbie shrank back, finally unnerved by Sam’s angry tone.
I thought a minute. “Debbie, how were you able to reach him so easily?”
She looked nervously at Maggie, who again nodded.
“After Micki was kidnapped, a girlfriend called me who still works for Novak. She told me that Novak was in a total rage that he could be on the hook for Micki. She gave me his cell number—in case I needed it.”
Sam looked at me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask the next question in front of Sam, but what the hell—I needed his help if I was ever going to figure the whole thing out.
“Did he say anything else other than what you’ve just told us?”
I caught her furtive glance at Sam.
“Sam’s okay—he’s on our side,” I said.
Sam was “the law,” and she still looked uncomfortable. “He wants to meet with you—just you, me, and him alone, when you can travel.”
“No fucking way!” Sam burst out.
“Clovis, set it up,” I replied with equal emphasis. “I’m just fine.”
34
“JACK, I CAN’T let you do this. Novak’s a prime suspect in Micki’s abduction and now yours. What if he told Debbie where to find you? Who better to know? He wants to get his hands on you—and Debbie, too.”
I tried to interrupt, but Sam held up his hand.
“Hear me out. Novak is worse than a thug. He’s been heavily involved in the sex trade for years. I’m talking about little girls being sold, raped, and abused. And not just girls he brings over from Eastern Europe—twelve year olds have been abducted right here in Arkansas. His guys target malls, concerts, and theaters—anywhere young teenagers are likely to hang out. This isn’t some guy in a grey suit stealing money from other guys in grey suits. I’m talking about a murderer and a pimp—a man who would just as soon cut your throat as look at you. You’d be a sitting duck. Micki has been terrified he would snatch Debbie, and now you’re going to hand her over on a silver platter? If something were to happen, Micki will kill you if Novak doesn’t.”
“Okay, I won’t ask Debbie to go, but remember, it was Moira who just tried to kill Micki and me and frame Novak for it. I don’t think for a minute that Novak hired Moira, but he might just know who did. Who better to know? Clovis has been all over town trying to find out who’s responsible, and he’s turned up zip. So it’s time to go to the source. If he hadn’t volunteered, I would have found a way to ask him. Novak’s not stupid. If something happens to me, he’ll be in jail for the rest of his life.”
What could he say? He knew I was right.
“Clovis will be in charge of arrangements, and I won’t go unless he’s satisfied.”
Debbie spoke up. She seemed to have gotten a second wind. “I’m going, too. He doesn’t frighten me. He’d be a fool to do something in plain view, and Novak’s no fool.”
Clovis was ready.
“I’ll coordinate everything with the Little Rock and Dallas police. Whoever is behind all this has no qualms about killing. Novak wants this meeting because, for once, he’s scared. Someone is trying to set him up for a murder rap—most likely the same someone who’s moving in on his operation. Micki and Jack are alive today because we got lucky twice. We can’t risk giving someone a third bite at the apple.” He paused and threw me a bone. “Who knows? Jack here is pretty good on his feet—maybe Novak’ll slip, and you’ll finally get him.”
Sam twirled the pen in his hand, staring at the blood pressure machine. The tension was palpable. I heard a little noise, and realized that Eric had slipped in and was sitting silent and unnoticed in the corner.
Now he rose, his countenance one of both dismay and disgust. “Are all of you crazy? I feel like I’m in a bad dream.” With that, he stalked out.
We stared at the door in silence and regret for a few seconds, before Sam recovered and said, “He may be right—we may all be crazy, but we can’t just do nothing. And Clovis is right about one thing. So far, we’ve got zip. God help us all if something goes wrong. Jack, you get to deal with Micki—have fun.”
Clovis and Debbie left to make the arrangements, Sam to worry some more. Maggie and I sat waiting while the painstaking hospital checkout process lumbered forward.
I looked at Maggie. “You’ve been quiet.”
Maggie was too proper to cry in public, but her eyes were full.
“It’s just you and me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s with you and this death wish? If Beth were here she’d be going through the roof. First, it’s Micki, and now you who’ve barely escaped death. And what’s your response? You fly off to Dallas to meet with the head of the Russian Mob?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Leave Little Rock and nev
er come back. Every time you set foot in this town you dance with death. We have a nice thing going in DC. Walter’s foundation is doing good work. You have a thriving antitrust practice. Why come here and get yourself killed?” Now the floodgates were open.
I wrapped her in my arms. “Maggie, let’s get out of here. I’ll explain why this is all so important. I promise.”
We’d been at the hospital for more than three hours, and I was ready to leave. I left the papers on the bed and walked through the doors of the emergency room to find Clovis and Debbie waiting.
“Wait a minute. Has the doctor signed the orders? Can you just leave?”
“He’ll get around to it. Now he doesn’t have to hurry. I’ve had a tough day, and Maggie and I both need a drink. You can stay, but we’re leaving.” I wondered idly why Americans feel so bound by hospital bureaucracy. I know it’s all about liability, but, jeez, why does it have to take so interminably long?
Clovis looked rattled, but said he’d bring the Tahoe around. We drove to the Armitage mostly in silence, each of us occupied with our own thoughts. I gave Clovis the key card to my room and suggested he and Debbie continue to work out the details of tomorrow’s trip. Maggie and I found a quiet corner in the bar. She ordered a Glenlivet, no ice. I had no idea what was in my system but figured a glass of pinot noir couldn’t do it too much harm.
Maggie excused herself to “freshen up”—the correct Englishwoman had returned. I thought about what I wanted to say to my best friend, my business associate, and the one person I could always trust.
After she had settled back into in her chair I took a sip of wine and said, “The long and the short of it is that I came here because Doug Stewart was a friend of Angie’s. I had no reservations about Micki representing him. I came more out of loyalty and the need for a little change of scenery, not because of some death wish.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it. But this thing’s such a dog’s breakfast—I admit I’m scared.” I took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
